"You have been found guilty of the crime of desertion. The punishment for desertion is death by firing squad, to be carried out immediately." Popov sounded hoarse as he read out the conviction. So many orders had been shouted over the last week. All around him every soldier who was not needed elsewhere had been gathered to witness what happened to cowards. Having the punishment serve as a lesson to others was just an efficient use of time. "Firing squad, ready your weapons!"

Maria had already checked her rifle but she made a show of doing it again. Appearances had to be kept up after all. As everything fell apart around them the officers increasingly took refuge in insisting that everything be done by the book. Regulations provided a safe haven from thinking about just how doomed they all were. While Maria had always enjoyed flaunting her independence even she realized that right now falling in line was the best course of action. What was endearing during victory could be annoying in defeat. Annoyances where never something that the Bolsheviks had been good at tolerating.

"Ready!"

Ever since the Germans had unleashed their freaks the whole of the Red Army had found itself stuck in a cycle of retreat, dig in, retreat again. Sheer luck had saved Maria's unit from facing another of the tankmen or meeting one of the more powerful ones that they heard rumours of. Not everyone had shared that luck. The crowd was filled with new faces. As formations were broken the survivors were folded into whatever forces could take them in. At least the smart ones were. The stupid ones tried to run and all too often got caught. Which is why eight stupid men were tied to old fence posts on the other side of the field, waiting as much as Maria was for the order to be given.

"Aim!"

Maria had never really enjoyed executions. There just was not much challenge in shooting a man bound to a pole with a target marked on his shirt. That they had recently been allies rather than enemies caused her little grief though. All that running could do now was give them the illusion of freedom until the Germans finally caught up with them. It did surprise Maria a bit that Stepan was one of the men tied up across from her. He and a few of his mangy dogs had tried to steal some supplies and make a break for it. Meeting his blank stare Maria just felt annoyed. She had put a fair amount of effort and loot into staying in his good graces and now she would have to start all over again when someone rose up to replace him. In the meantime she would have to take extra care around the camp. Men who thought they were soon to die might not worry about what she would do to them if they took too many liberties. Being vaporized by the Germans was fine so long as she got to keep her dignity intact.

"Fire!"

One squeeze of the trigger and it was over. The bullet went straight through the white square of cloth that had been pinned over Stepan's heart and he slumped forward against the ropes. An officer went out to confirm that each of the condemned was indeed dead but that was just for show. None of the soldiers on the firing squad were about to waste a second bullet.

That was it. The men were ordered to disperse and return to their duties now that the message had been delivered. They were to not take a single step further in retreat than they were ordered to. Maria did not really need that warning. From the very start of the war she had not been sure if she would live to see the end of it. Might as well try and take as many Germans with her as she could rather than desperately scramble for a few more weeks of life. Not that there was anything to look forward to after death either. It was like something that one of the great writers would have said, that in Russia life and death held equal promise. Not that any of those noble ponces had known much about anything in Maria's opinion.

As Maria prepared to leave she caught Popov's eye. Under the officer's gaze she saluted perfectly, her expression utterly serious. He shook his head in disbelief and almost looked disappointed as he turned away. Perhaps he had grown so used to her antics that seeing her act as a proper soldier was a sign of just how much trouble they found themselves in. Shrugging Maria made her way from the field. She was not about to dwell on it too much.

The whole business of the retreat had cast a definite pall over the troops. Victory had been so close and now it seemed as if there was not any force in the world that could save them. Most of the men spent their every free moment trading rumours and theories about just what the Germans had made. Maria thought that it was all about as accurate as when she tried to piss standing up. A bunch of fancy names did not change what they were facing. Angry gods shattering the world of the mortals that dared to defy them. Since she had never believed in any god the fact that she was likely to die at the hands of one was almost hilarious. Almost.

No matter how powerful these Germans were Maria was not about to let them change how she lived. She had avoided thinking about the future so far and she intended to continue doing so. If her days were to be numbered then Maria was certainly going to enjoy them. Looking around she finally spotted Lev and Pyotr sharing a cigarette, shielding themselves from the wind alongside a truck. Maria joined their little huddle.

"That was a good shot." Lev commented as he exhaled a mouthful of smoke. Ever the gentleman, still finding time to pay her a compliment in the midst of all this. If there was one little hope that Maria held onto it was that he would make it out of this alive even if she did not.

"Would have been better if it had been going into a Nazi-pig but what can I do?" Maria said with a wild smile. Here, with the closest people to a family that she had in this world, Maria felt safe enough to let her irreverent humour loose. Lev and Pyotr looked far too dour for men who still had their lives.

"You'll have your chance soon enough. They won't have us retreat forever. I doubt we'll even make it all the way back home. I'm going to die in this shit hole of a country." Pyotr replied. He had a wife and child back in his village near the Black Sea. Torn between never seeing them again and wondering if they would survive the coming German storm had left Pyotr the most miserable of them.

"At least we don't have many tanks with us. That is what brings the big ones, the Battleships, down on you. Vasily, one of the survivors from that guards unit, saw one. Over three hundred men died in an instant. Just one flash of light and they were gone. No warning or anything." Lev tossed his cigarette to the ground and extinguished it with his heel.

"What use is there in standing around worrying? If it is our day to die, we die. Just like before but now, more likely." Maria wrapped an arm around Lev and squeezed his ribs. Not wanting Pyotr to feel left out she pulled him in too with her other arm.

"You have a point." Lev did not sound very convinced though.

"Of course I do. Now should we just stand around here or should we go find a bottle and forget our woes for a while? I know that none of us is on sentry duty tonight."

"Now I know that we are doomed. Maria is the one making sense." Pyotr let out a chuckle as he came to the realization. It even sounded genuine. Maria might not have liked him as much as she liked Lev but still, a friend was a friend. If she could help keeps his thoughts from the dark place it was a victory in her mind.

Arm in arm the trio went off in search of enough booze for a peaceful night. Maria was satisfied that she had been able to stave off the thunder clouds for now, though that storm would break over them soon enough. Live or die, the three of them would face it together.

Training. Somehow Patrick had hoped that with all that had been said about the incredible changes that their bodies were undergoing, the training would also be spectacular in its own way. He had been sorely disappointed. It was still too early in the process to do any physical exercises that would really challenge them so the waking hours of the First Enhanced Army had been filled with a lot of the same old standard drilling that they had received back home. Someone up above had decided that it was a good time to make sure that everyone remembered their discipline. Might have to do with the fact that a bunch of infantrymen could now blast tanks apart with a glance. That Patrick actually looked forward to the moments where they got handed the new field manuals to read said a great deal about just how tedious everything else was.

A full week had passed since Patrick's initial activation. The dose of Catalyst that they gave him every day went down a bit easier each time and he was starting to catch up with the others. While still smaller than a tankman the gap was closing rapidly, which made it a bit tricky to get a properly fitting uniform day to day. Besides the extra height none of them really felt all that different from before though. It was the little things that helped show that they had indeed changed.

Accidentally breaking the spoons at chow time. Not being able to get the stubble off when shaving. Nearly breaking some poor doctor's hand while shaking it. Worse yet was that almost all of the vices that a soldier might enjoy to pass the time were effected. There were few women at the camp and all of the enhanced men had been warned that with their new strength relationships with a regular person would be dangerous to say the least. No one really wanted to risk it yet. As for liquor and cigarettes the same improvements that rendered medication useless also impacted all forms of intoxication. Having a smoke might satisfy the craving for one but it no longer helped take off the edge. Similarly the amount of booze it took to make a tankman feel tipsy for a couple minutes was bordering on ridiculous.

That left only the mainstays of gambling and gossiping. With such a small group there were only so many times that the guys could win the same few bills off each other so the latter activity was more popular by far. It was what Patrick was doing with Top as they sat on their own outside of one of the buildings, enjoying a free hour later in the day. Soon enough it would be time for the evening bowl of sugar slop before an early bedtime. In someways it was like being a kid again, though Patrick no longer felt any desire for sweet treats. The paste had driven that off quickly enough.

"You know, I can see that I'm doing this, I can feel that I'm doing this, but I still can't believe that I'm doing this." Top said as he bent a short piece of iron rebar that he had found somewhere into a spiral with his bare hands.

"You're telling me. I'm supposed to be able to do the same thing with a solid steel beam pretty soon." Soon was a word that Patrick had been hearing a lot lately. The great worry was that his strength would outpace the ability of his body to regulate it. So until his activation was complete he had been more or less forbidden from doing anything that would endanger him. He was sure that if he had agreed to it they would have had someone spoon feed him just to be safe.

That was something that was starting to bother Patrick. Not the being treated like he was made of glass but the increasingly apparent differences between the enhanced soldiers and the normal people. Already it was affecting who tended to socialize with who. Part of it could be explained as making sure that no one got hurt while the tankmen learned to control their strength but there was an unpleasant undercurrent that Patrick could feel. As hokey sounding as it could be he did believe in the American dream and what he had heard about the enhancement process so far made it sound anything but equal.

"Been trying to figure out how to tell my wife. Started that letter a dozen times and I still don't know how to put it."

"Not like you could say much anyways. General Morton told me that he's working on getting something secure set up so that we can finally let them know what's going on. For now the censors will have a field day if you say anything more than 'I'm fine.'" At least for everyone else that was the case. Patrick had been given the opportunity to write a letter to his family explaining things, on the condition that he tell no one else about it. The worry was that all the sudden everyone would want to spill the beans to their loved ones. When Patrick had asked just why he had been given the privilege it had been let slip that his whole family were first in line for testing to see if they were like him.

Patrick honestly did not know how he wanted that to go. If any of them tested positive then at least he would have someone that he could really trust to share this journey with. Yet that would almost certainly entail them being deployed as well. Eamonn had signed up to be a soldier but the thought of their mother or one of their sisters having to face down the Germans on the battlefield filled Patrick with dread. On the other hand if none of them tested positive then they would be safe from having to join the war but the same divide between regular folks and enhanced ones would have crept right up into Patrick's own family. Should it end up being a mix of the two he could only hope that it did not drive them all apart.

"Hey, its the Kraut," Top nudged Patrick and gestured to the tankman walking nearby. Patrick did not think that he had ever seen Lupin alone. There was always someone trailing behind him, even while he took his little walks around the camp. "Still wondering what his story is. Am I the only one who finds it weird how good his English is? Its like was he supposed to be a spy or something. Against us I mean."

Before Patrick could respond the German looked over to them. There was no way that he could have heard them from that distance but Lupin began to make his way over. The men tailing him kept up while staying a respectful distance behind.

"Thank you Mr Spinelli, I often worry that my English is not up to par. I do appreciate the compliment," Lupin said once he was closer. Seeing the shocked looks on the men's faces he tapped one of his ears. "Enhanced hearing. Yours has not developed yet, but it will. As for why I speak English so well the answer is much less exciting than you would think."

If Lupin had heard the last part then he had certainly heard the first, though he seemed content to not mention it. Every time that Patrick had seen the man he almost went out of his way to be polite to everyone around him. It did not seem to be an act either. That he had been an enemy soldier was a little bewildering. Patrick just could not envision Lupin trying to kill anyone but he knew that appearances could be deceiving. Some people had a past that they were trying to atone for and he suspected that the German had a few skeletons buried away somewhere.

"Alright, so what is this unexciting answer then?" Top asked as he crossed his arms. He certainly knew how to apply the good old New York charm.

"My family owns, or at least owned, a firm that deals in chemicals. We always envisioned trying to grow larger and my father was of the opinion that foreign contracts would be a valuable path to pursue. Britain and the United States are the largest markets around so it only made sense for me to learn English during my schooling. So in the end I know English so that I could sell you things." Lupin looked bashful as he finished his story. It really was a rather mundane explanation.

"Well it worked out in the end," Patrick replied. "Never had much of a chance to talk to a German before. What's it really like over there?"

It had been a question that Patrick had been considering ever since he had signed up for the army. He had seen the the newsreels and heard enough from here and there to put together that Germany had not been a pleasant place to live even before the war. Yet Lupin did not appear to be a goosestepping drone as Patrick would have expected.

"That is a difficult question to answer," Lupin began as he took a seat on the bench beside Patrick, leaning forward so Top could hear him as well. For once the smile on his face slipped a bit. "I would think that the best way to explain it would be that it was like being in a prison. You had to assume that everything you did was being watched and that everyone you spoke to might be an informant. There was never enough of anything, not even in the army. I worked in logistics so I know better than most. The time since my defection has honestly been some of the least stressful days I've had in years."

Neither of the Americans really knew how to respond to that. It was not the answer that either had expected.

"You are both from New York, yes? I've seen it in the movies. I hope to see it in person someday." Lupin resumed displaying a cheerful demeanour as he changed the subject.

"I tell you what, you make it over there and I'll personally give you a tour of Hell's Kitchen." Patrick offered. Now it was Lupin's turn to look confused as he tried to puzzle out the name of the neighbourhood.

"A guided tour of mick central from an authentic Paddy, I'm sure he'll love it." Top piped up on the other side.

"What, should I take him round Little Italy so some greaser jackass can pick his pocket?" Patrick shot back, adding a gentle fist to Top's ribs.

"Try as I might there is just something about Americans that escapes me." Lupin shook his head as he watched the younger men trade insults.

"You'll get used to it," Patrick clapped Lupin on the shoulder. "Look at us sitting out here like a bunch of bums. You know how to play poker?" Lupin shook his head. "Its pretty easy to learn. We could always use a new player."

Lupin shrugged and got up to join them as they headed inside. Patrick was sure that he would have to defuse a few attempts at trying to get under the German's skin from some of the other guys but this was a great opportunity to find out more about just who he would be fighting. He knew of no better way to get to know a guy than taking his shirt off him in a poker game.

"This is twice you've saved my ass Werner. I'm going to have to rename one of my sons after you." Olaf said as he continued to smoke his cigarette.

Werner just smiled in return. Olaf was one of the men that Werner had saved during his heroic moment at Kursk. By chance their paths had crossed during his reassignment to the Hungarian front. It had seemed the least he could do to help his old comrade get out of another deployment. Olaf would get to return home to his wife and children soon enough. Once Werner had a chance to ask him a few questions.

That was why just the two of them were talking on their own away from the rest of the men, alongside a burnt out tank. Olaf was sitting up on the deck while Werner leaned against it. Ostensibly it was to commemorate their time together as a tank crew. It was also conveniently away from prying eyes and ears.

"Well there isn't much point in sending you back into the field right now. If I had my way more than you would be heading home right now. You'll be more useful there but I'll warn you, it's a mess. It is going to take a lot of time and effort to restore Germany to the way it was." Werner replied as he finished his own cigarette. The force of habit was stronger than any enhancement that he had received.

"So long as no one is shooting at me I'll be a happy man," Olaf chuckled then looked at Werner in a serious way. "Though truth be told when you disappeared I always thought that they had figured out one thing or another and thrown you in prison or worse. Yet here you are, a wonder weapon and hero of Germany and all that other rubbish."

Keeping his expression still Werner pulled out another cigarette to buy a moment to think. He had been hoping to approach this in a more circumspect way but Olaf had done it for him. Now it was just a matter of seeing what else the man would say. Werner did not look forward to having to kill someone whose life he had saved. It seemed like a waste all around.

"Why would you have thought that?"

"You can wipe that look off your face, I'll carry your secrets to my grave. No need to hasten that either," Olaf shook his head as Werner shifted uncomfortably. "As I said, you saved my life. If any of us were going to rat you out we would have done it right after the battle."

"Who all is still alive?" Werner knew that he would not like the answer to that question. The front had grown even worse during his time away at the project.

"Kurt took some shrapnel through the shoulder and got discharged a few months ago. Not sure where Otto ended up but he was reassigned. Everyone else is either dead or enjoying the hospitality of the Soviets." Olaf and Werner both knew that life in a Soviet prison camp would be as bad as anything that they had ever seen. Especially considering what had happened to the Soviet prisoners that had been in Germany. Himmler having Markus run around 'liquidating' prisoners was just a few more drops into a full bucket. If anything it would just give the Soviets an excuse to step up their own atrocities.

"Well at least I can make it all worth it. Not sure if we will be able to call it a win in the end, not after everything." Werner activate his halo for a moment to light his cigarette, motioning if Olaf needed the same. The other man just shook his head. There was the look of wonder in his eyes as he watched though.

"Can that thing really do all that they say?"

"Watch." Werner pointed towards another wrecked tank further out. A moment later a distortion engulfed the whole thing. When he released it there was nothing left but a bit of the track melted into the ground.

"I'll be damned. I think it is safe to say that with you and the others, we'll win. Besides its not like the Hungarians or the Romanians are going to be much challenge for you. Bunch of backstabbing pricks." Olaf spat on the ground to drive home his point.

It was true that the armies that Werner and his handful of panzermensch were being sent up against would have no chance but the scale of the mission still gave him pause. First they had to break the Red Army in Hungary, then drive on into Romania and secure the oilfields there before finally pushing onward to Odessa. By that point Markus and the main force would have theoretically made it to the Ukraine and they would join together again. Werner had not been into this part of Europe himself but he was certain that it would be slower going than anyone expected. The Carpathian mountains in Romania especially would provide ample hiding spots for Soviet soldiers and partisans alike. With the supply lines already stretched it would be hell for the men left to garrison the path behind them.

Unless of course the orders came down that, much like Markus, they were to pacify the countryside as the went along. Which might quell things in the short-term but would create nothing but problems later on. It was not work that Werner had ever enjoyed, though he had done enough of it in his time in the army.

"Ten packs of cigarettes that I make it to Odessa before Vistula crosses the Bug." Werner offered Olaf, who promptly began to laugh.

"You make that sound like a fair bet but I'll not lay anything down against you. You do have a habit of beating the odds," Olaf hopped down off the tank. "We should be heading back before anyone get too suspicious."

Following along after his comrade Werner looked at the wreckage as they passed. The first charge into the Soviet Union had been backed by the same optimism that was being projected by Hitler now. Werner could not shake the feeling that the same of reversal of fortunes was laying in wait for them. He would keep his wits about him and play it safe for now. Walking back to the rest of the soldiers he prepared himself for another night of telling tales about the scrapes that he had gotten into during his first tours in the East. At least the ones he could talk about. All to help shore up the morale of an army that felt much like he did.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel at least. It was far off but Werner could see it. They had needed a miracle and had been granted one. No amount of nervous feelings could change that.