A full moon shone down on the train as it pulled into a station in southern Germany. Light snow had begun to fall, and cold had seeped right through Sergeant Olsen's jacket, made worse by the fact that it was wet. The civilian clothing was nowhere near as weatherproof as the flight jacket he had been shot down in. Without a change of clothes, he felt the time he could afford to spend on this mission had just gotten shorter—the last thing anyone back at Stalag 13 wanted to deal with was someone coming down with a cold, as colds and flus and sinus infections were dropping prisoners and guards like flies that season. He couldn't stay in those clothes for very long, and frankly, he didn't want to.

Olsen swore to himself as he left the train car, cold, wet clothes clinging to his skin. He had failed to stop the train from leaving Hammelburg, but he still had a chance to get the cargo that he was ordered to retrieve—an Underground operative said to be scheduled for interrogation and likely execution. The next challenge was going to be bringing the man back up to Stalag 13 so he could be evacuated to Britain, but Olsen would figure that out as he went along. His gloves were soaking wet, and his hands were stiffening as the freezing air struck them. Grunting, he stripped the gloves off, though it changed nothing about how they felt. They dried pretty quickly, but that just made them more uncomfortable. Cuts and scrapes stung all over his body as he began walking away from the train. I fell. I fell and that's going to cost me this mission.

He was ordered to go because he had been nearest to the Hammelburg train station at the time. Colonel Hogan said that the Gestapo had been tight-lipped about this operative's arrest and only a few hours prior had figured out the bare minimum of what was going. Without delay, Olsen was given a set of civilian clothes and sent on his way.

He tried to stop the train. No luck. To make matters worse, he stumbled and fell into a pile of slush and gravel while he was running to get on the train when he realized there was no stopping it. Shaking his head, Olsen tried to pull himself together, though with every pulse, his wounds stung to the point where he wanted to scream. Just stop thinking about it. Where are you? Olsen kept to the shadows as he got onto the platform and looked up at a sign. Augsburg. Okay. We've got friends in Augsburg. That's good.

Olsen froze when he heard doors slamming, and looked further up the train to see two men in black trenchcoats and hats leading a bound, gagged, and blindfolded man off of the train. The two men's red, white, and black swastika pins glinted in the light of the lampposts on the platform as they guided the man off. Swallowing hard, Olsen followed close behind, but not too close.

The two Gestapo agents walked quickly with their prisoner away from the train station and into the city. It was very late at night, but Olsen didn't want to attract the attention of anyone who happened to be awake. He kept a good distance between himself and the Gestapo agents, frantically trying to think of a way to get their attention and distract them from the operative. Preferably somewhere quiet and isolated.

The snow came down heavier as the night went on. Olsen avoided streetlamps as he continued following the two agents. Their office is downtown, but we're heading toward the woods on the southwest side of the city. Are they just going to execute him? Olsen quickened his pace, heart pounding faster and harder. He still stayed far behind, though he realized that in the darkness, he risked hitting the operative if he tried to take a shot at the agents. I gotta get closer. I'm risking my neck either way, but either I get that operative or I don't.

It looked as though the agents were looking for a spot where they could execute the man without attracting any attention. The woods were a perfect place for that. Questions about why the agents bothered to take the operative to Augsburg in the first place poked Olsen's mind repeatedly, but he continued to tell himself that he needed to finish the mission first, and ask his questions later. Gradually, he got closer to the agents and the operative. Olsen looked down, seeing that the operative was dragging his right leg. Damn it… I gotta get him back to Stalag 13 with an injury.

Olsen became aware of how cold he was again as he kept trailing the three men ahead. Once they were further away from the city, he pulled a Walther P38 handgun from a holster hidden under his wet jacket. He hoped and prayed the gun hadn't been damaged from his fall or the melted snow. He walked closer and closer with the gun drawn, hands shaking from cold and nerves. Just let me make these shots—

He barely had time to react when a figure leaped from the inky shadows of the woods, barreling into one of the agents and rolling with him in the snow. Olsen took advantage of the shock and confusion to shoot the second agent before he could shoot at his companion's attacker. The agent toppled to the snow-covered ground, and Olsen sprinted over to the operative.

"You're gonna be alright, you're gonna be alright…" Olsen muttered, frantically cutting the man free from his bindings. He looked over at where the mysterious attacker had the first Gestapo agent pinned down. Both were shrouded in darkness. Heart thudding fast against his ribcage, Olsen got in front of the operative, who was beginning to pull himself up, moaning in German that his ankle was broken. Looking over his shoulder, Olsen responded, in German, "I will take care of you. Do not panic."

The operative breathed a "thank you," and Olsen turned back to the scene in front of him. He kept his gun trained on the attacker when he saw the figure begin to stand. "Who are you?" Olsen asked.

The figure stepped into the light of a streetlamp. He was dressed in a German Heer captain's uniform, and a tuft of light-brown hair stuck out from under his cap. When he opened his mouth to speak, there were long, sharp fangs in place of all four of his incisors. "Sergeant Olsen?"

"Reiger?" Olsen lowered his gun, breathing a heavy sigh of relief as he stood up. "I am so glad to see you, buddy." He slid the P38 in his holster before grabbing Captain Reiger in a bear-hug. "I haven't seen you since we helped you get to Stalag VII C. How are you?"

"Much better now. The League of Sorcerers was able to create a potion for me to be able to live a little more normally." Reiger smiled. "I am now sterile. I cannot turn anyone into a vampire."

"That's good. Hey, thanks for the iron supplements, by the way. Corporal Atkins has been doing a lot better."

"That is wonderful to hear," Reiger replied. "What exactly are you doing here in Augsburg?"

Olsen looked back at the operative sitting up in the snow. "This fella. The Gestapo was going to kill him. I followed them on a train here."

"Underground?"

"Yes. He's hurt, though, and I gotta get him back to Stalag 13. His cover was blown. He can't do anymore here."

The operative ran his fingers through wet, blond hair before turning to look at the two men. He looked older than both of them. "I do not appreciate you talking as if I am not here."

"Sorry," Olsen said, switching to German. "What is your name?"

"Adam Waldschmidt, but Papa Bear knows me as 'Mallard.'"

"How did you know I work for Papa Bear?" Olsen asked, giving Waldschmidt a confused look.

"You said 'Stalag 13' a few times in your conversation with your friend here," Waldschmidt replied. "I know Papa Bear operates out of there." He held his hand out, and Olsen and Reiger helped him stand. Wincing, Waldschmidt put his full weight onto Reiger. "I owe both of you my life." He looked at Reiger, sniffing. "Why do you smell of—" His face paled when he saw Reiger's teeth and squirmed as he tried to get away. "Good heavens, you are a vampire!"

"He is on our side," Olsen said. "Relax. He cannot hurt anyone."

Reiger gestured to the Gestapo agent lying in the snow. "Technically, I can hurt people, but I am incapable of turning other people into vampires."

Olsen walked over to the agent's still form. The man was dead, and blood had pooled around him from two sets of bitemarks in his neck. "Aren't you worried about getting caught, Reiger?"

"Nobody knows I am here, and if anything, it will take the blame off of the Underground if people assume an ordinary vampire is on the loose." Reiger shifted Waldschmidt. "We can dispose of the bodies in the woods."

It grew colder as the group buried the bodies of the two Gestapo agents in the forest southwest of Augsburg. The ground was frozen, so they had to bury them both in deep snow, which wasn't hard to find. With more snow coming later in the night, they weren't too worried about tracks, but Olsen did his best to cover them anyway.

Once they were out of the woods, Olsen looked at Reiger as they put Waldschmidt's arms around their shoulders. "I don't think we want to be here in the morning when the Gestapo realizes their two agents are missing. Do you have a vehicle or something we can take back up to Hammelburg?"

"I can borrow a truck from Stalag VII C. Westheimer will not mind, as long as I bring it back." Reiger glanced at Waldschmidt. "I think it is time we hear your side. If you were arrested in Hammelburg, why did the Gestapo bring you to Augsburg."

"I will tell you when you get me out of Augsburg," Waldschmidt replied. "Even just a few miles, but I cannot be caught again."

Olsen and Reiger exchanged a curious look, but both shrugged. "Alright, but we will hold you to that."

It took them about an hour to reach the prisoner-of-war camp known as Stalag VII C, which was run by members of the resistance group called the League of Gentlemen Sorcerers and Lady Witches. Olsen had never been there, but Sergeant Carter had a couple of times.

"It's really weird at first," Carter had said shortly after returning from seeing the camp for the first time. "Burkhalter would have a stroke if he saw how much fraternization goes on in Stalag VII C. Not kidding! The guards play soccer with the prisoners. They're friends with the prisoners. Heck, I even saw a guard and prisoner walking alongside each other. All of these guys could get shot for this."

"How does their commandant get away with it?" Olsen asked.

"Friends in high places," Carter replied. "It'd be nice if things were like that here. Can you imagine how much more we'd be able to get done? Quite a bit."

"I don't think you can request a transfer to this place, Andrew," Corporal Newkirk muttered while sewing up a patch in one of Sergeant Kinchloe's sweaters.

"No, but it would certainly be nice."

It would certainly be nice. Olsen looked around the compound as he, Reiger, and Waldschmidt entered. The night patrol guards were friendly, though definitely confused at seeing Olsen and Waldschmidt. After talking to one of the night guards, Reiger turned to Olsen and Waldschmidt. "We should get your leg looked at in the infirmary," Reiger said.

"We cannot afford to delay this!" Waldschmidt snapped. "I must get out of Germany!"

"Not on that leg you are not." Reiger's voice was firm. He gestured to the infirmary. "Come. We will waste time if we stand here and argue."

In the camp infirmary, Olsen breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he was given a change of clothes and told to get dressed in the storage room. It felt good to get out of his heavy, wet, freezing garments. His hair spiked a little as he attempted to dry it out. As soon as he left the storage room, Reiger appeared, holding a steaming mug.

"Here. I prepared some tea for you," Reiger said.

"Thanks." Olsen gently took the mug. "How's Waldschmidt?"

"The medics suspect one of the Gestapo agents broke Waldschmidt's right leg on purpose. He will be alright, but he needs to stay off his leg for a few weeks." Reiger sighed, glancing toward where Waldschmidt's leg was being set and cast. "I just hope he actually obeys them. He is very eager to leave."

"I can't blame him, to be honest," Olsen replied. "I'm just curious about what he's got that's so important he can't tell us until we get out of here."

"I am wondering the same thing. Once the medics are finished, we will be on our way. Commandant Westheimer was not happy about being woken up, but he granted me permission to take a vehicle anyway."

"You'll be up all night if you come with us. Are you sure you want to come? I can bring the truck back."

"I had fresh blood on a full moon. I will not be able to sleep for at least another day or two."

"Alright. You can come." Olsen looked down at his tea. "I owe you my life for saving me and Waldschmidt out there. Why were you out anyway?"

"Sometimes, I like to go for walks on the full moon, to keep watch for vampires that may not have the best of intentions. I just happened to come along the Gestapo escorting your operative, and saw you, so I decided to help."

"Well, I wouldn't even be here if I had managed to stop the train back in Hammelburg." Olsen's chest felt heavy with disappointment. "I stumbled and fell trying to get to the train station. Stumbled and fell. Can you think of a more stupid reason?"

Reiger gave him a sympathetic expression. "I can understand your frustration, but your organization is run by a man who is very good at thinking on his feet. I think he will be proud that you were able to do the same, instead of giving up when things became rough."

A small smile tugged at the edges of Olsen's lips. "I think you're right. Thanks, Reiger."

Reiger got in the driver's seat of the truck, and pulled back the canvas behind him to make sure Waldschmidt was inside and secured. The blond operative looked tired, and Olsen hoped he would sleep for the trip, but he also wanted to hear what Waldschmidt's story was. Why did the Gestapo take him to Augsburg, instead of keeping him in Hammelburg? Why did they make it seem like he was going to be questioned, then decide at what seemed like the last minute that he was to be executed?

Olsen hunched in on himself as he tried to keep warm while Reiger started the truck. "Four hours. Great," he muttered.

"Plenty of time for us to catch up," Reiger said, smirking a little. He jerked his thumb in Waldschmidt's direction. "And for him to tell us what the Gestapo wanted with him. Clearly, there was something more than just the fact that he worked for the Underground."

"Yeah," Olsen replied. He hugged himself as they drove up the pitch-black road leading north from Augsburg. In the corner of his eye, he could see Reiger giving him sad looks.

"I wish I brought a blanket for you," Reiger said. "You seem very cold."

"It's really cold. I usually find somewhere warm to hide if Hogan needs me outside at night in this weather."

"I see." Reiger returned his attention to the road. "I remember we talked briefly about this while I was sheltered with you in Stalag 13, but you never went into details about it—what made you decide to be the 'outside man?'"

Olsen shrugged. "Hogan needed someone to do it. I volunteered."

"It sounds like a very risky job."

"It is. You'd think being outside the camp means having a little more freedom than the guys inside, but it's really dangerous and honestly… very lonely. You can't trust anyone. Meeting new people isn't exciting. It's frightening, because you don't really know who they are. Going to restaurants or taverns isn't fun. It's harrowing, because you have to assume everyone there could be a spy. But it's something that has to be done if the Underground is going to succeed in any of its operations." Olsen fell silent for a moment. "Sometimes, I think Carter's right; Stalag VII C would be a better place to be if we want to get anything done."

"Stalag VII C is not the paradise Carter has painted it to be. Yes, it has its advantages in the way it is run, but the prisoners still experience the same hardships as all other POW camps. You still must be careful when people Westheimer does not know enter camp. It is not always easy getting medical supplies or food without raising suspicion from others. There are still fights, and illness and depression run rampant. Above all, nobody wants to be there. The prisoners, the guards, the staff, no one. We all just want to go home."

Olsen nodded. "Pretty much the same at Stalag 13. Everyone wants to go home, and that simple thing can make tempers flare, especially since we have a perfect escape right under us, but we can't use it. We still have a job to do, but that doesn't make being stuck there any less frustrating."

"Absolutely."

There was silence between them for the next half-hour. Eventually, Olsen opened the canvas behind him, seeing Waldschmidt sitting with his crutches on his lap. He cleared his throat, and asked in German, "Are you now comfortable telling us what your story is? We are out of Augsburg."

Waldschmidt sighed. "Yes. I will tell you. The Gestapo suspected me of having knowledge about a top-secret Sorcery Division project. They knew I was not going to talk, so they planned on killing me so a necromancer could bring me back and draw the information right from my mind." He turned around to resume facing outside, grunting and holding his left arm in the process.

"That explains why they were taking you to the woods instead of the SS office," Olsen said with a slight shudder. "Why did they not kill you in Hammelburg and bring you down to Augsburg?"

"A fresher kill allows a necromancer to access more of my memories."

"Honestly, I should have guessed that was why the Gestapo brought Waldschmidt to Augsburg," Reiger said. "Standartenführer Kaschel's headquarters is right there."

"Yeah," Olsen muttered. He glanced at Reiger. "You mentioned necromancers once or twice while you were staying with us. How bad are they?"

"Oh, very bad," Reiger replied. "Even most witches do not like them, for necromancers have no morals and seek dominate magic in all of its forms. They are the worst of the worst when it comes to magic users. Worse than the majority of vampires."

"So, running into one is bad news?"

"Very bad news. I hope you never do run into one."

Olsen nodded. "I hope I never run into one, either."

"It is not likely that you ever will, but do be careful when traveling alone in remote places."

Shuddering at the thought of running into a necromancer, Olsen hugged himself a little tighter. He looked out the window at the heavy, wet snow coming down and the darkness shrouding the forest surrounding them. "How can you see in this weather?"

Reiger shrugged. "My vision is much clearer than yours. One advantage to being a vampire. That and I have traveled this road before. I know it quite well."

"Is this the same road Veidt had taken Carter on when they took Private Lechner to Stalag VII C?"

"It is."

"So, you know there's a spot with a high avalanche risk?"

"I do. It has not snowed enough yet for that to be a concern."

"Okay. I trust you."

Reiger smiled. "I appreciate that, Olsen."

"No problem."

The sound of the engine running and the icy wind outside dominated the truck as the drive continued over the next couple of hours. Reiger broke the steady droning when he said, "We should be in Hammelburg in one more hour."

Olsen looked in the back of the truck. "One hour, Waldschmidt. We are almost there."

He could see Waldschmidt, but didn't get a response.

He's probably sleeping, Olsen thought. He went back to facing forward, but a nagging twinge started in his stomach. He put up with that feeling for another minute before pulling the canvas back again. "Waldschmidt? Hey, wake up!"

Olsen was suddenly thrown forward when Reiger abruptly stopped the truck. "We need to check on him," Reiger said, throwing open the door.

Nodding, Olsen got out as well, running around to the back and jumping inside. Waldschmidt had passed out in a position where he was hugging his chest and gripping his left arm. Panic surged in Olsen's gut. "He's had a heart attack. What do we do? Where's the nearest hospital?"

"We do not need a hospital. That, and they would probably send him back to the Gestapo anyway."

"'Don't need a hospital'—Reiger! He's dying!"

"I have equipment in the front of the truck. There is a bag with a red cross on it. Go get it."

Without hesitating, Olsen ran around to the front of the truck, and groped around in the darkness for a large bag. Once he found it, he sprinted back to where Reiger had taken off Waldschmidt's jacket and was rolling up his left sleeve.

"We do not have a lot of time—thank you." Reiger took the bag. "I can perform an emergency transfusion."

"He hasn't lost any blood, though," Olsen said.

"My own blood has healing properties, and since I am sterile, I will not turn Waldschmidt into a vampire."

"What about blood type?"

"Not something to worry about when you are a vampire. Basically, vampire blood is similar to type O, except it can be given to both positive and negative types." Reiger set about putting both ends of the transfusion kit into his arm and Waldschmidt's. "Keep watch for anyone coming, Olsen. I need at least two minutes."

"You got it." Olsen took out his gun and left the back of the truck. He paced around the truck, jumping at any slight movement. He kept looking at his watch, and wondered why two minutes felt longer than it really was. It felt like ten had gone by when he saw Reiger emerging from the back of the vehicle.

"Waldschmidt is secured. He should wake up and start feeling better once we arrive in Hammelburg," Reiger said.

Olsen felt very relieved when he hopped back into the truck next to Reiger. "Now I'm really glad you came with us. I wouldn't have known what to do other than try to get him to the nearest hospital."

"You still would have tried to do everything in your power to help him. That is all that matters." Reiger reached over to gently squeeze Olsen's shoulder before starting the truck again.

It was after one in the morning when the three men arrived in Hammelburg. Olsen was glad that this ordeal was over. There had been a few close calls, and he was happy that he had Reiger by his side for most of them.

They parked the truck not too far from the gates of Stalag 13, and went on foot to get to the tree stump tunnel entrance. Waldschmidt was exhausted and physically weak, but Olsen took comfort in the fact that he was going to be okay. At the tree stump, he looked at Reiger. "I'm sure the others will be happy to see you again. Atkins doesn't like admitting it, but he does miss you."

Reiger smirked a little. "I look forward to seeing the rest of your companions as well. You all had a way of making that cold, drafty barracks feel very cozy."

They helped Waldschmidt down the ladder. Once they were on solid ground, the older agent switched his gaze between the two men. "I do not know how to thank you. You saved my life a second time, though I doubt people would believe me if I told them a vampire was part of it."

"You do not have to mention me if you do not wish to," Reiger said.

"When I am safe in England, I probably will. I think people will be surprised and happy to know that there are good vampires out there."

Reiger looked down at the floor, but Olsen could see him blushing.

Sergeant Kinchloe came around a corner, a big smile blooming across his face. "I thought I heard familiar voices." He gave Olsen a quick handshake and hug. "Nice work." His grin widened when he saw Reiger. "Captain Reiger! I wasn't expecting you!"

"Hello, Sergeant," Reiger said. "I thought I would drop by."

"You're being too humble, buddy," Olsen said, plucking off Reiger's cap to tousle his hair. "He helped me get Mallard out of the hands of the Gestapo and saved him from a heart attack on our way back from Augsburg."

"Augsburg? Why were you in Augsburg?" Kinchloe gave them a confused look.

Olsen sighed. "I… failed to stop the train, Kinch. I fell in some slush and hitchhiked onto the train. It stopped in Augsburg. The Gestapo was going to execute Mallard and hand him over to a necromancer because he's got information on a Sorcery Division project."

"Hey, you still got him back. I'll go wake up the colonel and tell him you're back and you were successful." Kinchloe looked at Reiger. "Are you staying the night? You can if you want to."

"I wish I could, but I must get back to Stalag VII C. I borrowed one of our trucks and promised I would get it back by morning," Reiger said.

"Alright. It was nice seeing you again." Kinchloe gave him one last smile before heading up into the barracks.

Olsen turned to Reiger after Kinchloe had left. "Well, I guess this is goodbye again."

"We will see each other again." Reiger held out his hand. "I am glad we ran into each other."

"Yeah. We owe you now."

Reiger shook his head. "Think of this as payment for your hospitality all those months ago."

"Alright, alright. If you insist."

Reiger turned to the ladder, then looked over his shoulder after he started climbing up. "Until next time, Olsen."

"Be careful out there, Reiger. See you soon." Olsen stayed by the ladder, and didn't walk away until he couldn't see Reiger anymore.