Předmostí u Přerova, Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia – March 1942

"Must be around a company's strength in there," Jan said, squinting his eyes from the top of the pine tree. He was crouching on one of the larger branches. Kevin was not five metres away in a different tree. Together, they looked down into the SS encampment crawling with soldiers, heavy equipment, and forced labourers – a combination of Czechs, Slovaks, and Jews.

There's the entrance, Kevin signed. He wasn't referring to the entrance to the camp, but rather the entrance to their real objective: the cave opening on the cliffside at the far edge. The whole camp was in a flurry of activity, but the centre of it all was the cave. Weapons and ammunition were brought in, while bags of dirt and rock were brought out. The resistance was here to free their comrades, but the Assassins' prize was the information – and hopefully artefacts – in the cave.

A dozen men always guarding it, Kevin continued. Not to mention patrols.

We knew it was going to be heavily guarded, Jan signed back. Let's go back.

They didn't slide down. It was still too close to the camp. Instead, they started jumping from branch to branch. It was a relatively terrifying experience. All it'd take was just one branch on the verge of snapping to send him falling down below. So far, he's been managing. In no small part due to Kevin's constant help. He'd point to branches he knew were safe if he saw Jan hesitating. Finally, they reached where Elisabeth, the Czechoslovak leader Vit, Kristián, and a bunch of other resistance members were waiting.

"So, how's it looking?" asked Kristián as they landed on the forest floor. He was smiling but tense, and slightly shaking from a combination of excitement and anxiety. For the last few months, he'd been their main partner in jobs involving the Czechoslovak resistance. It didn't take too long for him to become their main advocate either.

"I'd say a hundred and fifty men. Around a company's worth." Jan brushed off the leaves on his coat."We can still go with the plan."

Kristián nodded excitedly. Raising his rifle, he and Vit went to rally their men. Kevin clasped Jan's shoulder before heading deeper into the forest.

"See you on the walls," Elisabeth said in goodbye as she went the other direction, unslinging her rifle.

Now all they had to do was wait. They were hopelessly outnumbered. Around a dozen men on each team, and there were only three. But they had two advantages: the element of surprise, and the element of Assassins. As darkness enveloped the forest, Jan began moving through the underbrush. He made his way to the edge of the forest, not ten metres from the walls. It was much louder here. The noises of digging, mining, heavy machinery, and shouting. It must've been near midnight, but the Nazis were still working the labourers to the bone. Just as Jan was about to jump out of the bushes, two soldiers walked in front of him.

"Here is good, don't you think?"

"I suppose. It's just to bury the dead labourers. We don't have to be too meticulous about it."

"Don't let Lasch hear you say that. He'll bury you along with them. Wants things neat and tidy, after all."

They had their backs to him. A perfect opportunity. Jan took in a deepth breath and cleared his mind. When speed was required, he wouldn't think through the battle. He'd flow through it, and that required him to empty his mind. The noises faded into the background, distinct but distant. He closed his eyes and the world receded from his vision. And then he pounced.

Each of his blades found a neck. The two soldiers could only widen their eyes and gurgle the blood that started to seep through their mouths. Jan pulled out his blood-slick blades and pushed them down onto the ground, dying, wanting to scream, but unable to. Like a spirit in the night, he covered the distance to the walls in the split of a second. Using his speed, he climbed up and over the top of the wall.

He landed next to the sentry on guard. He was just turning his head towards Jan when he planted his blade in his jaw. Jan pulled out his blade and threw him over the wall. He climbed down and felt his way through the darkness to reach the foundations of the wall. Feeling the cold, hard concerete, he crouched and took out the improvised explosives the resistance had made and attached them to the wall.

He went along the wall, attaching more of the explosives and slitting the throats of any soldier who was unfortunate enough to pass him. He could not use his gun, nor could he risk letting them use their guns or their throats. A gunshot or a scream would expose him.

As he placed the final explosive, he looked around. Guards were still crawling over the walls, but some parts of the wall were less guarded than others. Must be Elisabeth's work. If Elisabeth was done, then it was about time. He ran into a nearby building and closed the door behind him. Something fell on the ground, and he turned around. A soldier was smoking a cigarette, and his mouth was agape. His gun was on the table.

The soldier reached for it just as Jan's knife found the side of his head. He fell onto the floor on his side, blood bleeding from his ears. Jan crouched below the single window across the table and opened his watch. 00:45. He covered his ears and closed his eyes. The noise was gone from the world, and then it ripped it apart. Jan was blown back by the force of the explosion and fell onto the floor next to the corpse. He shook his head and stood up, taking out his gun.

He stepped out into the camp and was greeted by chaos. The walls that had been standing around the camp just a few minutes ago had massive holes along it. Some parts completely collapsed, limbs of buried soldiers poking out in between the rubble. Blood and bodies were strewn all over ground near the walls. And the tranquility of the night was shattered by gunfire.

The resistance had begun moving in, two dozen of them streaming into the camp from the holes in the wall. They were shooting down fleeing soldiers like rats in a cage, still disoriented from the explosions. Jan raised his gun and joined the fray.

One shot. One dead. Another shot. A soldier fell on his knees, grasping his arm. Another shot silenced him forever. They quickly moved through the camp, and soon half was under their control. A squad of soldiers held their ground, hiding behind sandbags with the still-standing wall behind them. Three resistance members fell dead to the ground as the machine gun unleashed its bullets.

But it didn't last long. A specter descended on them from behind, jumping from the wall and landing in their midst. They could only look at the intruder before two fell back, their necks red with blood. Another fell, a gunshot to his head. And another, falling over the sandbags. Jan led the resistance in charging their position, overwhelming the squad and killing them all. When he reached her, Elisabeth was wiping her blades on the sleeves of a dead soldier.

The soldiers retreated. The opening of the cave was fortified by another, thicker and better defended wall. Those that survived the initial onslaught of the rebels regrouped and took their positions at the battlements. Heaving and battered, they took out everything they had in the armoury: machine guns, grenades, and anti-materiel rilfes. The barrels of their weapons jutting out from the tops of the walls were like pikes that led no man through.

From their position, the soldiers exchanged fire with the rebels and managed to hold them off. A few rebels fell, either dead or dying, and were promptly dragged away. Before they knew what was happening, the battlefield was empty. There was only rubble, corpses, and fire. The eerie silence that followed the heavy gunfire, explosions, and screams unsettled them. Their brows were wet with cold sweat and their eyes picked up every little movement, real or not.

"Are they gone?" asked one of them, lifting up his slightly overzied helmet. "Where did they go?"

No answer came, either from his comrades nor the battlefield. Their breathing ragged, their hearts beating so loudly that their ears felt it, an answer finally came.

A lone figure appeared out of the smoke and dust. Clothed in a black coat that reached his legs, the man steadily moved forward. A hood was pulled over his head. His eyes were hidden by the beak that extended over his face. He held no weapon in his hands as he came to a stop. The soldiers all aimed their barrels at him, his confidence and presence more terrifying than the entire attack had been.

"Halt!" a sergeant shouted. "Stop right there, rebel. Drop your weapons, if you have any, and surrender!"

He did not answer. He did not even move. It was as if he had turned into a stone, as frozen as the corpses strewn behind him. When he tilted his head up, all the men jumped and aimed their weapons once more. It wasn't enough to see his eyes, but his mouth was visible. And then he smirked.

Gunfire erupted from their sides. Men on their flanks fell dead from the bullets that rained down on them. The sergeant saw rebels approaching from both left and right as his men scrambled to meet the incoming threat. But he remembered the lone figure who had approached the wall and aimed his submachine gun at him.

Except, he wasn't there anymore. It took him a split second to realise that the figure was running straight at them, towards the wall. What, he thinks he can climb up? He'd be a sitting duck. All the more perfect for the soldiers.

"Kill him!" he shouted to his nearest men.

But the spot the soldiers shot at was empty before the bullets hit. Instead, the lone rebel was now in front of him, having jumped over the battlements. The sergeant caught a glimpse of the man's eyes – cold, hard, and ruthless – as the blade embedded itself in his neck. The lone figure left his vision, to be replaced by the clear, blue sky. His ears were ringing, but within it were screams, shots, and the sound of blades swishing through the air. His head fell sidewards, and he could just see the man drive his blade through a soldier's heart before the sergeant's life ebbed away.

The battle was over. Two dozen SS soldiers lay dead on the walls and on the cave floor. Their positions were taken over by the rebels, who kept a close watch from the battlements just in case reinforcements came. Half a dozen of the enemy were kneeling with their hands behind their head, battered and bloodied. In contrast to their defeated and fearful faces, the rebels pointing their weapons at them were smiling and celebrating.

"Vítězství!" Kristián shouted at him in greeting, his face caked with dirt and sweat. "A great victory, my friend."

"A great victory indeed. How many people did you free?"

"Two hundred, at least. We're still counting. Some were wounded, caught in the explosions and crossfire. A few unfortunately didn't survive. But at least most of them did."

Jan nodded, turning his eyes to the exhausted but grateful haggard men resting near the mouth of the cave, drinking the little water the resistance brought with them.

"What about their commander?" he asked Kristián, walking deeper into the cave.

"He's holed up in his office, a little bit further in," he said, pointing to a lit spot in the distance. "We didn't shoot or anything, just like you asked. But what will you do?"

"I just want to have a little talk with him."

They passed the captured soldiers, who eyed Jan with fear and awe.

"What shall we do with them?" Kristián asked.

"Kill them."

Kristián stopped in his tracks. "What? Just kill them, like that?"

"They're not useful. They're unlikely to give us anything useful. And I don't think the resistance is in a position to keep prisoners."

Jan left Kristián to deal with the prisoners as he went to where the commander was oh-so-courageously holding out. Kevin, Elisabeth, and four resistance members were keeping their weapons trained on the door.

"Fire!" came Kristián's order from the mouth of the cave. A volley of shots came after, followed by the sound of corpses falling onto the ground.

"He's still holed up in there?" Jan asked Elisabeth.

"Yes. And I think there's one more in there. His bodyguard or adjutant maybe."

"We don't want the Czechoslovaks to know about this. We can handle this ourselves."

He turned to the four resistance members and told them that they didn't need anymore help. He thanked them and they left towards the entrance of the cave. That left the three Assassins cornering the small room built into the rock.

"Explosives should do," Elisabeth said.

Jan turned to Kevin, who nodded and walked cautiously towards the door. He took out one of the improvised explosives out of his bag and stuck it onto the door. He quickly ran back and gestured. Ten seconds. They took cover behind some nearby crates and waited for the explosion.

When it came, it rocked the entire cave. At one point, Jan was concerned that the stalactites jutting out of the ceiling would fall down and kill them. The explosion prompted some of the resistance members to come. Jan left Elisabeth to deal with them and went in through the hole that used to be the door with Kevin.

File cabinets, books, and papers were strewn all over the room. True enough, there were two people in the room: their commander and his bodyguard. When the bodyguard recovered and saw Jan, he raised his gun. But Jan's bullet had gone through his forehead, and he slumped back onto the wall, his head bleeding.

"You must be Lasch," Jan said, approaching the commander. He crawled back towards the corner, eyeing Jan with a mixture of terror and hatred.

"You think you won, Assassin? Ha! This is only a minor setback. The Templar Order shall–"

Jan kicked him square in the face, causing blood to come out of his nose. Jan pulled him up by the collar and held his wristblade to Lasch's neck.

"Let me rephrase that. Are you Lasch?" Jan smiled as sweetly as he could.

"Y-yes," stammered out Lasch, his eyes bloodshot.

"Good." Jan disengaged his blade. Lasch relaxed a little. He didn't see Jan's fist coming from the side, hitting his jaw. He fell to the ground, blood seeping from his nose and mouth. Jan dragged him by the collar and put him on a chair.

"Tie him up," he told Kevin as he went to take a look at the documents strewn around the room.

On the desk were strewn dozens of reports from the excavation, interspersed among thick books on history and archaeology. Something reflecting light caught Jan's eye at the foot of the desk. It was a lighter. It was a good thing they broke in when they did.

"Thought you could burn it all, huh?" Jan said as he lifted up the lighter for him to see.

Jan went through the documents on the desk while Elisabeth searched the rest of the room. Lasch sat calmly tied up on the chair with Kevin menacingly standing next to him, rifle at the ready. The documents were numerous and finding something actionable proved to be like finding a needle in a haystack. But buried beneath two thick books on Czech history, Jan found gold.

"What is it?" Elisabeth asked as she came to Jan's side.

"Something about a map, and a key. Seems they found both here a few months ago."

"A map and key to what?"

"That I don't know, but we can ask our little friend here." Their eyes moved to the bloodied Lasch. The three Assassins now stood around the commander.

"W-what?"

"What's the map and key the documents talked about?" Jan asked in front of him.

"I don't know anything about that. I'm just a field officer."

Elisabeth started choking him. "Don't play with me. Just one flick and my wristblade will go straight into your throat."

"Easy," Jan said. Elisabeth pulled back her hand and Lasch started laughing. He must've been trying to sound confident and strong, but the uneven and ragged laughter only made him sound nervous.

"You Assassins are so- so quick to violence! Even if I knew anything, what makes you think that I-I'll tell you?"

There was the sound of crunching bone as Elisabeth's fist met Lasch's jaw.

"Look, do you know something or don't you?"

"I told you, damn it!" He spit out blood. "I don't know anything."

"Then you're useless. He's all yours."

"W-w-wait!"

"Do you have something for me now?"

"It's a m-map, to a weapons vault."

"A weapons vault?" Jan couldn't see why they'd spend so many resources on something like that. After all, Nazi Germany is practically a war factory.

"Y-yes. The ancient texts say that Those Who Came Before held great power. Weapons of unimaginable destruction, leagues beyond our own technology."

"'Those Who Came Before'?" Jan asked.

"What? Don't tell me you don't know?"

The Assassins looked at each other. They had never heard anything about that. Lasch laughed but was promptly silenced by the tip of Elisabeth's blade on his neck.

"Enough laughing and start talking," she threatened.

"'Those Who Came Before'. It's exactly like that. A powerful race that came before humanity. Millennia before we were even here, They had raised great cities and empires throughout the world. Our technology today doesn't even compare to what they had then. We are like children to them."

"Sounds like a lot of occultist mumbo jumbo," Jan said. "You expect me to believe that sort of story? If they were so great, where are they now? And besides, I've never even heard of them."

"That's exactly what we wanted you all to believe. The Templar Order is a great organisation, far greater than you rats! All discoveries were hidden, covered up. Only the enlightened should have access to that knowledge."

"And now you're saying you've found a map to the vault. And the key too?"

"And they want to end the war once and for all, with weapons that the Allies can't hope to match," Elisabeth commented.

"Then where are they? The map and key."

"I-I don't know."

Jan sighed. "Look. It took a lot to get here. You wouldn't believe how hard it was. Do you know the problem with you Templars? Every time we get a lead, you all just decided to bite a little pill in your mouth and kill yourself, leaving us with nothing to go on. I bet you even have one in your mouth right now."

Jan could see him gulp. He continued.

"But you know something interesting? You're not dead. You're very much alive, in fact. So, the question is, Herr Lasch, why aren't you dead?"

Jan looked straight into his eyes. Eyes that tried to pierce through all the facades people build, to go directly to their heart.

"You're afraid, aren't you? Of dying."

Silence, but Lasch's expression had changed. There was no more confidence, no more smugness in his face. All that was left was resignation and despair, like the face of a child who had been caught stealing cookies from the kitchen.

"And if you want to keep living, then tell us where they are now."

"T-t-they're going to kill me," he stammered. "I can't tell you."

"Don't worry, they won't."

Lasch looked up, his eyes fearful and nervous. But within his mind, a small flicker of hope, hope at staying alive, had arisen. And Jan could see it. Finally, Lasch sighed and resigned himself to his fate.

"It is with Heydrich."

Their hearts dropped when the name came. Heydrich. The most powerful man in the Nazi-occupied country. The commander of legions of German soldiers and SS and Templar monsters. It just had to be him.

"We can't get it from Heydrich," Elisabeth said.

It's practically impossible, agreed Kevin.

"Then," Jan said after thinking for a while, "we'll go straight to it. Lasch, where is the vault?"

"I don't know."

"Don't play dumb with me, tell us what you know now, or we'll make sure your death is as slow and painful as it can be!"

Jan didn't realise that his voice was rising until the words had left his mouth.

"I-I swear! I don't know anything! The map was not yet deciphered when I sent it to headquarters."

"Looks like he's telling the truth," Elisabeth said. "Guess we have no choice."

Jan cursed under his breath. How were they going to take the map and key from the most secure place in all of Czechoslovakia? All under the nose of the most powerful and well-protected man?

"Fine."

Lasch relaxed. "I-I've told you everything. You won't let them kill me, right? Assassins are known for their word."

Jan chuckled. A few minutes ago, he was spouting Templar ideology and mocking them, but now he's asking for their protection.

"Yeah, Lasch," he said, putting a hand on Lasch's shoulder. "We won't let them kill you."

Lasch smiled. But in the split second before she shot him, the colour in his face drained away. Elisabeth made sure to miss his heart, to allow him to live just a shorter while before they killed him. He collapsed on the chair, eyes going wild and blood seeping from under the ropes that tied him. His eyes flew from Assassin to Assassin, in them a mixture of contempt, confusion, fear. And then she shot him in the face.

The two men sat in the bushes, their skin itchy from the foliage and their skin covered in a thin layer of sweat from the heat. They had been waiting for hours, but Heydrich's car had not come by.

"Jozef," called out Kubiš. "I don't think he's coming through here."

"Damn it. Let's just wait a bit longer."

It had been five months since they were airdropped back home and made contact with the resistance. Part of the Czechoslovak soldiers in exile in Britain, they had been chosen specifically to carry out Operation Arthropoid. Their objective was simple: the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich. But when their first plan had no way of succeeding, they settled on waiting for Heydrich's car to pass through the forest road between his residence and Prague. They had a cable ready to pull in front of his car and kill him there. But several hours have passed, and there was still no sign of Heydrich.

"Look, it's Lieutenant Opálka."

Lieutenant Opálka – their commander – approached them from the cover of the trees. Jozef had always found him impressive back in Britain. Opálka's hair was always neatly combed, and his face clean-shaven. He had a strong face, the kind with a well-defined jaw and chiseled features. But despite all that, his eyes were kind. All in all, Opálka was a dependable commander, and felt like a serious and dependable older brother more than a commanding officer. But the Opálka now coming towards them was not as tidy. His hair was longer, and the stubble on his chin was growing.

They saluted him when he arrived. "What's wrong, sir?" Kubiš asked.

"At ease. Looks like Heydrich's not coming here. We should go back before somebody starts suspecting something."

"But, sir, we could just wait a little more. Who knows? Maybe Heydrich will come by soon."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up. Another failure, boys. But we'll get him, for sure."

Jozef couldn't argue. They picked up their stuff and made their way back to the safehouse. To call it a safehouse was giving it more credit than it was due. It was the apartment of the Moravec family, who were sympathetic to the cause. For the last few weeks, they had graciously given them a place to sleep, eat, and plan. Jozef didn't like relying on them but not because there was anything wrong with them. It was just that by doing this, they were putting themselves in danger. And Jozef didn't want anything like that to happen to them. When they arrived in the apartment, the Moravec son Alois was standing in the doorway.

"A failure," Jozef announced. "The bastard didn't show up. I can't believe it."

"You had faulty intelligence."

That wasn't a voice they recognised. Jozef took out his gun and aimed it at the man sitting in the living room armchair. The upper half of his body was hidden by the darkness, and it was only then that Jozef realised the lights weren't on.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Calm down, Mr. Gabčík!" cried out Alois. "He's a friend."

"How did he get in here?"

"I let him in."

"What?!"

"Relax… Jozef, was it? I'm a friend." The man stood up and walked out of the shadows. His accent, his manners, his look. All undeniably German. Jozef didn't like this one bit.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you where you stand right now."

"I can give you two. One, I'll be at your throat before you take the shot. Two, my friend over there has her rifle trained on you."

Jozef turned his gun to the corner. A woman – similarly dressed to the man – was standing there, her rifle trained at him. Whatever he did, he'd get shot. He can only take one of them out. Is this how his mission is going to end? Dying at the hands of German agents in an apartment? Not even having the chance to die doing something useful for his country?

"Please calm down, Mr. Gabčík. He's an ally."

"How do you know that?" asked Opálka, who had his own gun out but wasn't pointing it at anyone.

"I confirmed it with the resistance. They vouched for him."

"We're wasting precious time here," the man said. "How about you lower that gun and let's discuss the mission like adults."

Jozef didn't dare lower his gun.

"Who are you? What the hell do you want?"

"I'm Jan Adler. We're here to help you kill Heydrich."

This chapter turned out far longer than I was planning. Sorry about that! But I didn't feel like I could omit anything. Either that, or I still have a lot more to go with my writing/editing skills. I'm starting to think the latter is more likely…

One major correction here. I've been referring to the local resistance as Czechs only. But I should've used Czechoslovak, since they were one country at the time. Even Jozef Gabčík here is a Slovak, not a Czech. An honest mistake, and one I really apologise for! (They're real people by the way. You can check them out on Wikipedia.)

Thank you for reading! Not a lot of people read this, but it's fine. I'm grateful for every single person that does read. And anyway, I feel like I have to finish this. I just have to. It've been working on it since like, what, 2014? I can't leave it unfinished forever. I wish work wasn't so busy so I could have more time to write though…

But anyway, enough with the ranting. See you next chapter! (pleas-, I mean hopefully)

Herr – sir