Pilsen, Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia – November 1941
"This is the place." Jan and Elisabeth walked into an abandoned trainyard. Rust was the prominent theme: rusted tracks, rusted pipes, rusted trains. All manner of large and loud machinery, now forever silent. Seeing no sign of the resistance members on the yard, they stepped into one of the buildings. The doors were locked, although if they were to kick it down it would collapse easily. But two tracks ran through it, and their gates were open.
"Hold it right there." The voice came from the left, but they were looking into the barrel of a rifle aimed straight at their heads from an overhanging walkway. The man behind it looked down the sight, ready to shoot at any moment. Jan raised his arms to show that he meant no harm. Two more men appeared on their flanks with their guns pointed at the two Assassins. Then, the heavy, gruff voice himself came out.
A flat cap on his head, a blue plaid shirt, and dark brown trousers held up by black suspenders against his portruding stomach. He wasn't carrying a gun, but he kept one hand on his suspender belt, close to the holster on his hip. The wrinkles on his face contrasted with his hard look, his thick grey moustache reinforcing the image.
"What a warm welcome." Jan's eyes alternated between the three guns pointed at him.
"Can't be too careful at times like these," the older man said. He stopped a few paces in front of them. "Dangerous times."
"Dangerous times," Jan repeated. "So, what happens now? You'll take us prisoner?"
"You did save us from the Gestapo. For that, we thank you. But for all we know, you could be their spy."
"We saved your lives."
"Isn't that how it goes? Leak a bit of information, just enough for them to trust you. And then once you have enough information extracted, deal the killing blow. With what's been going on with our people, you'd understand our caution."
"So?"
"So, I'd like to know who I'm dealing with. Who are you? Why did you help us? What are your objectives? You can start from there. Oh, and drop your weapons."
Jan sighed and looked over to Elisabeth. Her rifle was on her back, but her hands were itching to grab it. Keeping one hand held up, Jan took out his gun and dropped it on the ground. He kicked it towards the nearest resistance member.
"You too, miss."
Elisabeth didn't respond. Jan nudged her with his elbow. "It's fine. Come on.'
Begrudglingly, she unslung her rifle and threw it on the ground. The old man smiled. "Go on. Tell us what you're here for. We have all the time in the world, and the place to ourselves."
"We're looking for something. Something that the Nazis are also looking for. But we need the Resistance's help to find it." Jan looked at their eyes each in turn to show his determination. "One thing you can be sure of: the Nazis are our enemies. We want what you want."
"And what might that be?" the old man asked.
"Their defeat."
"You can say so, but those are just words. Like I said, you helped us and all. But it could've just been a trick."
"So, how can we prove ourselves?"
"How will you be helping us in our fight?"
"My partners and I possess a specific set of skills." Jan flexed the muscles in his finger, feeling the hidden blade under his wrist. "We're experts in not being seen."
"Spies? Assassins?"
Jan smirked. "Something like that, yes."
"Best way to flush the rats is see if they'll kill other rats." He paused before continuing. "Lukas Miete. Know him?"
Jan shook his head. Neither he nor Elisabeth had ever heard of that name.
"He's an officer with the SS. Cold bastard. Cruel. He's the brains of the local Gestapo operations. We know he's the source of most of the information that's taking out the other cells. End him, and then we'll talk."
"Sounds simple enough."
"Confident, are we? To make sure there's no trickery involved, I'm sending one of my guys with you. Kristián."
The man on his left lowered his gun and stepped forward.
"This is Kristián. He'll tag along with you."
"With all due respect, we have very specific training. Having him will just slow us down."
"If you want our help, he goes. If not, this'll be the end."
Jan sighed. Kristián looked young, maybe as young as him. Well-kempt hair, brown jacket, grey trousers, and a blue shirt. His face was clean-shaven, and he had a look of determination and seriousness. Zeal, even.
"Alright, we'll take him along."
"Good." The old man turned his attention to Kristián and began speaking Czech with him. He replied, nodded, and the conversation ended. "See you when you're done."
The three of them walked out of the building and headed towards the car where Kevin was waiting. Jan walked next to Elisabeth, while Kristián walked slightly farther.
"How do you suppose we'll communicate with him if he doesn't even understand us?" Jan said in German, not bothering to whisper.
"I understand you," he answered.
Jan and Elisabeth stopped in their tracks and stared at him. Well, at least the communication problem's done, he thought to himself. "Good then, we can communicate easily."
"Afraid I'll 'slow you down'?" he said mockingly. "Don't underestimate me just because I'm Czech."
"What? I never said anything like that. It's not because you're Czech."
Kristián scoffed. "Sure. It's because of your 'special training.' Gestapo training, huh?"
"Why, you little–". Jan raised his fist, but Elisabeth held it down.
"Believe what you want," she said, not even turning to look at him. "Just do your job."
When they came to the car, Kristián put his hand on his gun as Kevin came into view. Jan told him to relax, but he kept his hand where it was. Jan took the front seat, telling Kevin what had happened and then drove off.
"Where are we going?" Jan asked.
"The Gestapo headquarters." His eyes were going from one point to another in the car, as if looking for a bomb or a secret weapon. "That's where Miete works. We wait until he comes out, then follow him."
"Oh, back again. How lovely."
They went on driving back into the city silently. Elisabeth gazed out the window, Kevin kept his eyes on the road, Jan was a little sleepy. But Kristián was tense throughout, and beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. He kept his hand on his gun, and his eyes flitted from the window, to Elisabeth, to Jan, and then to Kevin. But most of all, he kept his eyes on Kevin who sat right in front of him.
"Why isn't he saying anything?"
"Because he can't," Jan said. "That's a little insensitive of you."
"What do you mean he can't?"
"He can't. Was born that way. He can understand you, though. He's not deaf."
Kevin looked at the rearview mirror and gave a nod. Kristián didn't ask anymore questions, but he didn't stop anything else. They stopped across the Gestapo headquarters, a few metres before the café they were waiting in the day before.
They waited silently for some time, until finally a humble-looking bespectacled man with finely combed hair came out of the building and into a waiting car. He wore the uniform of an SS officer with a patch on his arm denoting his rank: Obersturmführer. He looked ill-fitted to it, with his awkward and timid natural appearance.
"That's him," Kristián said. "That's Miete."
"Let's follow them. Keep some distance." At Jan's words, Kevin shifted the gears and they started moving. They followed them through the city, keeping at a safe distance. They zigzagged across the streets, each one more unknown than the last.
"Where are you going…?"
After what seemed like more than an hour's drive, Miete's car turned right into a cemetery. Kevin stopped the car outside.
"A cemetery," commented Elisabeth.
"A fitting place for Nazis." Jan chuckled, but no one else was in the mood for humour apparently.
"Let's get in there and kill him."
"Alright. Elisabeth, Kristián, and I will go. Kevin, can you cover our exit?"
He nodded, turned off the engine, took his rifle, and took a hidden position outside. Jan and the rest of the strike team made their way to a building at the edge of the cemetery. The cemetery was guarded by a wall around it, the top covered in sharp spikes. At the corners, the perimeter wall joined the building wall. That's where Jan and the others headed.
Without a word, the two Assassins started climbing. Kristián stood still, wondering at their speed and agility. Before Kristián had even climbed half the wall, the two Assassins were on the roof. Elisabeth scouted the cemetery while Jan helped Kristián up.
"Looks like Miete's at the the building at the far end of the cemetery. The one with the stairs going down."
"Probably the basement or catacombs," commented Kristián.
As they were making note of how many guards were posted and where, an armoured car drove past the building and into the cemetery. Jan and the others jumped for cover on the rooftop and observed the car as it made its way to the building Miete was in. When it stopped, the back doors opened and the Nazis dragged out two men, one bloodied and beaten.
"Shit," muttered Kristián. "That's Marek and Zikmund."
"Friends of yours?"
"They're with the resistance too. We gotta help them."
"Hold your horses," Jan told him. "If we rush it, they won't be the only ones in the hands of the Nazis."
Crouching on the far side of the roof, they made their way closer to where Miete was. They lay flat on the tiles, not even daring to peek at where Miete and the two Czech fighters were. They could just barely make out what was being said. One of the soldiers was reporting to Miete.
"Obersturmführer!We caught these two on their way. Fell right into our trap."
"Very good. What are your names?"
"Jdi do hajzlu!" shouted one of them, followed by a spit. Then, a loud thud and crack as a soldier punched him to the ground.
Miete sighed. "You people are all without manners. I was just being polite. What did you find?"
"We found this on him. Besides that, only weapons and ammunition."
"It's in Czech?"
"Not just Czech, obersturmführer. We believe it's a code."
"Marek!"
"Y-yes, sir?"
"Why the hell's Marek so obedient to this bastard?" muttered Kristián. Elisabeth told him to quiet down.
"Translate."
"Like we'd ever tell you! Better kill us now," shouted the other one, who must be Zikmund.
Just then, Mieke chuckled. "If only that were the case. Marek, go ahead."
"Y-yes, sir." Marek then proceeded to narrate the contents of whatever they had been carrying. Instructions and orders for resistance cells to lay low. A guide to operations while the Gestapo are hunting them. A partial chain of command.
"What the hell are you doing, Marek?"
"You're not so stupid as to not know what he's doing?" Miete's tone was not one of satisfaction or gloating, but cold and contemptuous. "What did my man say? You 'fell right into our trap'? My dear rebel, you were trapped from the beginning."
Silence, as his words dawned on Zikmund. "No, that can't be true! Marek- Marek, tell me this isn't true. He's lying, isn't he?"
"I'm sorry," said Marek silently. "I'm sorry."
"Zrádce!"
"We have what we need," Miete continued. "Kill him."
"Wait!" Marek shouted. "He's of no danger to us. Just take him prisoner. You can get more information out of him that way. You don't have to kill him."
"You don't get to tell us what to do, Marek. Remember your place."
Shuffling boots. A rifle being cocked.
"Jdi do–"
A gunshot split the air.
"Zmrdi! Zrádce!"
Before the trio could do anything, Kristián was standing on the roof. He started shooting at the group in the cemetery and hit one of the guards in the shoulder. He fell down bleeding, clutching at the wound.
Jan and Elisabeth exchanged glances. Damn it, they said through their eyes. "The car!" Elisabeth shouted. Miete and his bodyguards were headed straight for the cars. Jan nodded and bounded over the roof and dropped into the cemetery.
He made his way through the tombstones, dodging gunfire and taking down soldiers with his blades and pistol. Elisabeth started shooting from the roof too, covering him as much as she could. She pulled Kristián down, so both of them were now in cover.
Jan kept his attention forward. He had cut down three soldiers. Four more stood around Miete, shielding and protecting him. They shot at him, but he dodged them and hid behind the tombstones. They were almost at the armoured car, its open doors waiting to take Miete in and drive away forever. Jan had to act fast.
He took out his knife and steadied himself. Taking a deep breath and clearing his mind, letting the gunshots fall into the background, he closed his eyes. Then he stood up and threw his knife. It flew through the air, spinning as it did before it hit the mark: the closest soldier's forehead. He fell to the ground, his lifeless eyes still stuck looking at the knife between them.
Jan crouched back into cover and unslung his rifle. Miete wasn't even ten paces away from the armoured car. After another barrage of shots before they had to reload, Jan came out of cover and started shooting. But not at the guards. Out of three shots, one hit Miete right in the back of his leg. Miete shouted in pain and fell headfirst to the ground. His soldiers were trying to get him back up.
Jan shot another one in the heart as he was looking at his fallen commander. The next shot went wide, but the one after that hit another in the shoulder. The final soldier, seeing he was all by himself, abandoned his commander and took cover behind a nearby tombstone. He emptied his magazine trying to hit Jan. He ducked again to reload. Taking the chance, Jan climbed out of his cover, ran as fast as his legs could carry him, and jumped over the tombstone, landing straight on the soldier's back and burying his blades deep in his neck.
As the life seeped out of him, a car door opened behind him. The driver came out with his gun and started shooting at Jan. He rolled away, taking the dead soldier's knife. In the blink of an eye, the knife was flying through the air and landed in the driver's arm. The driver shouted, before Jan shot him dead. Jan went over to Miete, who was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.
"Who the hell are you?" he cursed, his face bulging with rage and fear mixed together. "Do you know who I am?"
Jan hit his face as hard as he could. Miete started coughing blood, and one of his teeth fell out. Jan dragged him by his collar back to the entrance to the stairs, where almost a dozen soldiers were dead or dying. The eerie, silent cemetery was now loud with the moans of coming death. Elisabeth and Kristián were headed the same way.
Marek was cowering in a corner, wailing with his hands in front of his face. Kristián rushed over towards him, holding his gun ahead of him with a face as hard as stone. Jan dragged Miete along as the two Assassins followed Kristián.
"Remember me?" asked Kristián. "Huh?!"
Marek lowered his hands and his eyes widened in recognition. When he spoke, he was stuttering. "Kristián?"
"That's right," he answered, chuckling. He picked Marek up by the collar and started shaking him voilently. "What the hell did they offer you, huh? Money? How much? Or girls, was it girls?"
"You're sorry. You're sorry, huh?" Kristián threw him down and pointed at Zikmund's corpse. "You think your damned sorry's gonna bring him back?!"
Kristián put the barrel of his gun to Marek's forehead. "What the hell did they offer you? Tell me, or I'll splatter your brains all over this wall."
Marek closed his eyes and answered. "50,000 kronen."
Kristián pushed the barrel deeper into his forehead. "So, it was money. You filthy traitor. Did you get that money? Too bad you won't be able to spend it. Was it worth it, huh?"
"Please, Kristián! It wasn't out of greed. I needed the money. You know I do. Please."
"And for that, you killed Zikmund? How many others have died because of your 'need'?"
"I'm sorry, please. Please, don't kill me. Just let me go. I won't ever come back. I'll leave the country. I won't collaborate with the Nazis anymore. Just let met go." Marek was crying now, sobbing loudly in the otherwise silent graveyard. Jan and Elisabeth only watched as it happened.
"Do you really want to kill another Czech?" he asked in between sobs. "That's what the Germans want."
"But… but you deserve to die." Kristián wavered. The grip on his gun loosened, and he took a few steps back. "It's the punishment you deserve… but I can't take the life of a fellow Czech…"
Marek looked up apprehensively. His eyes were still red as he looked straight into Kristián's eyes. Kristián was torn. He stood there, gun half-raised as he went back and forth between his options.
"I can't kill you…" he finally said, his eyes full of anguish and hatred. Jan couldn't help but wonder. Was it hatred at Marek, or at himself?
Elisabeth spoke. "Then I'll kill him." Before any of them could react, Elisabeth raised her rifle and shot Marek straight in the face.
"What the hell?!" Kristián shouted, falling back and sliding away from Marek's corpse. "I said I couldn't kill him! What did you do that for?"
"You didn't. I did. I can't stand traitors." She turned around and approched the still unconscious Miete. "Come on, we still have him to take care of."
Kristián brought himself up and approached Miete, holding his gun firmly to try and regain his composure. "Let's kill him and be done with it."
Jan stopped him. "Wait a minute. Your friend Marek might not have been the only traitor. I say we bring him back. You can interrogate him for more information."
Kristián looked wide-eyed at him. "You're right. Yes, let's do that. C-come on." He dragged away Miete towards the car. "Maybe you Germans aren't all so bad after all."
Elisabeth followed behind, observing their surroundings and keeping her rifle ready. Jan lingered for a few moments. His gaze went from Elisabeth to Marek's destroyed face, and back to her. It's war, he thought. The Templars, the Nazis are even crueler. Repeating that to himself, he followed them back to the car.
Sorry for the delayed update! I've just started a new job and it's been really busy. But I hope you enjoy this new chapter!
Jdi do hajzlu – Czech for "piss off". Literally "go into a bog".
Kronen – Czech currency. Kronen is actually the German plural. The Czech plural would be koruny (singular koruna).
Obersturmführer – literally "Senior Storm Leader". Rank used by several Nazi organisations. Led a unit of around 50-100 men, so somewhat analogous to a lieutenant.
Zmrdi – Czech for "bastards".
Zrádce – Czech for "traitor".