Malte Heissler

November 1st, 1943

Makeshift SS Headquarters, Paris, France

---

After two months in my new position as Gruppenführer, there was one word I had learned to hate: paperwork.

For every potential lead I found, for near every order I gave, I had to file paperwork that’d be sent directly to Grünfeld. I’d been right to ask about it in retrospect. I may have been better at pencil pushing than fighting it but that didn’t mean it was any less exhausting.

But, thankfully, with the extra workload came extra perks and abilities I didn’t have before. What Grünfeld had told me remained true; I was given much more freedom to operate and even had seven soldiers placed under my direct command to be used in whatever lead I may find if I needed them.

“Sir!” my eyes snapped to the doors, where the voice came from.

“Come in,” I said, curious.

My interest only piqued when two of the soldiers under my command, Reiger and Honigmann, dragged in another soldier, this one part of the general Wehrmacht. The man was on his knees, brown hair mottled and messy with sweat streaking his face as he stared at the ground.

“What happened?” I asked, standing up from behind the desk and placing the pen I’d been holding on top of the paper.

Reiger quickly secured his grip on the man as he responded, “We found him writing letters to an unknown source divulging information that is both important to the war effort and that an infantryman wouldn’t know, sir.”

“I was writing a letter to my superior,” the man grunted, face turning upwards and brown eyes gazing into mine.

I stared at the three, brows furrowing. I glanced at the two soldiers on either flank, “Do you have the letter?”

Honigmann nodded, fishing into one of his pockets while keeping a firm handle on the man, “I grabbed it from his hands when we found him.”

The soldier then pulled out a crinkled white paper, crumpled into a ball, handing it over, “Didn’t read much but enough to know that it’s definitely suspicious.”

I unwrapped the paper, skimming over the words. What they said was true, at least regarding the suspicious information. Some of the knowledge here would only be accessible to those in commanding ranks, with details that would be very useful to any partisan cell.

What made it even more incriminating was that it was addressed to a mysterious “Mr. E”; no sign of military presence or even that the paper was meant to go through the military system at all.

I stared at the man, then back to the paper.

“What’s your name, soldier?” I asked.

The man blinked in surprise, “Marc, sir. Marc Rahmer.”

“Let the man go.”

My two subordinates stared at me with wide eyes in surprise, though Honigmann seemed to be a bit less startled, with Reiger pitching in, “Are you sure, sir? This all feels a bit too suspicious to just leave alone.”

“Look at him,” I gave a dismissive wave towards Rahmer, knowing that anything short of seeming to not care would set off alarms, “He’s just a lowly soldier. He couldn’t know anything dangerous. The note here doesn’t even have any special knowledge, just troop movements.”

I could almost see Reiger’s jaw slamming into the ground with surprise, “But sir, I-”

“You question your superior?” I levelled Reiger with a cold stare.

Reiger didn’t dare reply, simply nodding and reluctantly letting the man go. Honigmann followed suit, leaving Rahmer to get to his feet and straighten his uniform.

“Thank you,” the man muttered as he composed himself, Reiger and Honigmann flanking him.

I handed him back the note, “Now get back to your post. We need all the men we can get.”

Rahmer quickly walked out of my office, closing the door behind him, leaving me and my confused subordinates behind me.

“Sir, are you really going to let a man this suspicious get away?” Reiger spoke up.

I scoffed, glancing at him, “Of course not. I’m not stupid. He’s more useful to me if he believes himself inconspicuous.”

Honigmann spoke from his side, slowly blinking in confusion, “I’m… not quite sure I follow.”

“In all likelihood, Mr. Rahmer is just an informant, meaning he won’t have much useful knowledge in terms of Resistance operations and locations.”

Honigmann nodded, showing that he was following along.

“But he needs to get information to the Resistance somehow, whether it be through a messenger or himself. Which is why I want you two to keep an eye on him.”

“Well, did the letter contain anything that pointed to the rebel’s location. I didn’t read it all since I didn’t want to see any classified information. If it does, we could just strike them there and not have to wait,” Reiger offered as he turned around, opening the door and glancing around.

“No. Like I said, it just had troop movements. If it had any clue to their location, I would’ve just done that,” I walked back to my desk, sitting down and giving the paperwork in front of me the stinkeye, “Assign someone to watch over him or do it yourselves. If he makes a move, I need to know.”

“Yes, sir,” Honigmann nodded, “You will.”

I picked up the pen from the paper, getting back to filing reports, “Good.”

Konrad Feldpetzer

November 1st, 1943

The Parisian Underground, France

---

“Achilles, how much until the next shipment comes in?” Erhardt asked, consulting a checklist in his hand with a pencil in the other.

The Frenchman first responded with a noncommittal grunt, not taking his eyes off the paperwork on his desk. After a second, he glanced up at a calendar pinned to the wall, “‘Bout a month.”

“Good, good,” Erhardt tapped his bottom lip with the pencil’s eraser, “Our foodstuffs should last ‘till then if we’re careful. We’re good on ammunition and small arms, I believe.”

Another grunt from Achilles confirmed it.

Us three were in the workshop. Erhardt and Achilles were doing inventory while I was doing the lifting crates filled with raw materials. They were heavy; so much so that I oftentimes found myself dragging them.

Why was I moving crates alone? I’d sort of established myself as the lifting man. For the past two months, I’d been lifting heavy objects and helping move supplies. It was the bulk of my day, really, just carrying crates upon crates.

It also fit in to how my recollection of October was… fuzzy, to say the least. It’d all pass with a blur. Resistance hits had been reigned in for whatever reason and with the higher-ups not having to plan raids every few days they had more time to properly organize, which was how I’d even managed to spend so much time lifting in the first place.

It was totally not because I’m trying to avoid Annette. Nope. Not at all.

There’s a completely different reason as to why I’ve pushed my sleep schedule forward to minimize time spent together in the room. A very, very good reason.

Just let me think of it first.

“Konrad, you okay?” Erhardt’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, “Your face is… awfully red. You straining yourself?”

I shook my head, leaning backwards to accommodate the weight in my arms, “I’m fine.”

My voice definitely didn’t sound fine. Hearing my cracked excuse for one actually made me notice a few other issues; namely that my legs felt like they’d give out at any moment along with my arms.

“On second thought…”

Erhardt snorted, “I thought so. You’re free to relax for a bit, but come back soon to finish off the remaining crates.”

He quickly counted them with the tip of his pencil, “Just three. Shouldn’t be too much of a fuss.”

“I will,” I nodded, placing the crate I was carrying on the ground. I stretched for a moment, the room silent apart from the scribbling of pencils.

Erhardt hummed, “Why don’t you grab something to eat? You’ve been moving crates the entire morning. Speaking of, when was the last time you ate? I haven’t seen you much in the cafeteria.”

“Uh…” I blankly blinked. Food had sort of gone under the radar, especially so when Annette began frequenting the cafeteria halfway through October.

“The day before yesterday?” I weakly offered.

Erhardt clicked his tongue, “Well go eat something.”

“Sure thing,” I quickly hurried out of the room as the man asked Achilles another question. Right. Food. Only issue? I knew Annette would be in the cafeteria at this time of day, and I already knew it’d be distracting.

I took my time to reach the area, stopping by our room to see if, by God’s blessing, Annette was in her bed. Maybe I was lucky and she’d be working instead? A nervous feeling wormed its way into my stomach as I neared the cafeteria.

All the while, I tried to stamp it out. I was well aware how stupid it all was, considering the fact that I’d interacted with her for over a month with little issue.

When I finally reached the cafeteria, I peeked in.

And near immediately, my eyes found Annette sat at a table. She was facing away from me, seemingly talking with an older man. I frowned, scanning the rest of the room. Thankfully, I found my two other acquaintances sitting in a corner, Wolfram with a book in his hands as he sat on a barrel and Nico smoking a cigar on the floor.

For once, I was actually looking forward to Wolfram’s borderline delusional rants. It’d help keep my mind, eyes, and ears on the eccentric man and off Annette.

I quickly snagged myself a plate with some sort of canned meat on it – I think pork – and rushed over before my eyes could begin drifting towards her.

Niko was the first one to notice me. Instead of a wave, he put a finger over his lips next to the cigar, gesturing to Wolfram next to him.

Confused, I glanced at the man. He seemed pretty engrossed in his reading, so I assumed that the reason. Until I read the title of the book he was reading.

Der Kommunistisches Manifest. The Communist Manifesto.

I had to hold back the urge to facepalm so hard I’d slam my hand through my skull.

Sitting next to Niko, placing the tray on my lap, I leaned over and whispered, “Where did he even get that? I don’t think he had that yesterday.”

“He didn’t,” Niko rumbled, “I genuinely don’t know where he found it.”

It looked way too clean for it to be a find in the trashbin, where it’d most likely be located.

“What are the chances he appropriated it from some man’s bookshelf?” I snorted at the idea.

Niko shook his head, “I doubt that. The building would probably be burnt to the ground by the Nazis in that case.”

“Oh, hey Konrad!”

Wolfram’s loud voice with no sort of warning made me jump to such a degree that I nearly tipped over the tray in my lap. Niko didn’t even react apart from his expression of exhaustion making him look about a decade older than he actually was.

“Hello,” I gestured to the book, “Where’d you find that?”

“Oh, this?” Wolfram glanced down to it, “Found it in a bookstore in a shelf. Seemed like the owner had forgotten to take it off, so I spared him financial ruin by the fascists and swiped it.”

I lightly elbowed Niko with a snigger.

“So, apart from… that, do you have any other hobbies?”

“A few. The number got cut in half after I became an ideological crusader and a criminal by proxy. Can’t really go on walks in the park as a wanted man,” he shrugged, closing the book and glancing down at us.

Niko hummed, taking the cigar out of his mouth and holding it, “Could you regale us with tales of your time in nature instead of the mindless jargon in that hellish book? It’s like pouring dirt in a gas tank, honestly.”

Wolfram reached down and gently patted Niko’s head, much to the latter’s chagrin, “It’s okay: I don’t expect a simple engineer to understand such great works.”

“You say that but can’t even clean an engine like a ‘simple mechanic’,” Niko retorted, putting the cigar back into his mouth.

I sat back and watched the two take jabs at each other, taking a bite of my processed meat. It was… oddly relaxing, really. It felt almost like we’d been best of friends since childhood, and not just met a few months ago like in reality.

Despite Wolfram’s borderline delusions or Niko’s blunt manner, it was fun.

Of course, it all came crashing down when I spotted Annette walking over. Or maybe crashing up? Is that a thing? Point is, the butterflies in my stomach decided that it was a good idea to not only fly but ram into the walls at that moment.

“Hello there,” both Wolfram and Niko paused when Annette stood over us, staring down at me.

I felt like a child looking up at a schoolteacher despite the fact that I was a solid head taller than her at full height.

“Hello,” Niko interjected before Wolfram could form a phrase, “and the ‘Red Hammer’ says hi too. He just has a special way of saying it.”

“Do you all mind if I borrow Konrad for a moment?”

Ah shit.

“What for?” Wolfram asked.

Annette glanced at him, “Private.”

My face totally wasn’t going tomato red just now.

Wolfram gave a smug whistle, Niko opting to respond, “He’s yours. We were just talking.”

“Good. Come on,” she gestured at me.

“Make sure no one takes it,” I mumbled, placing the tray on the ground. Niko gave a two-fingered salute.

With legs feeling weaker than matchsticks, I got to my feet.

As Annette began walking away with me in tow, I heard Wolfram shout, “Tell us who your lady friend is when we get back!”

If my face wasn’t smoldering before it was now.

“So – uh – what do you need?” I asked after I tried gulping down my nervousness.

Annette shrugged, “I don’t need anything. Erhardt asked me to come get you. Something about a briefing.”

Knowing that it was a professional thing helped me calm down a bit, though still not by much. At least the butterflies weren’t going berserk anymore. I couldn’t help but stare at Annette, even if I had enough mind to be discreet.

We walked back to the workshop in silence, where I’d left the rest of the crates.

Things looked the same as I had left them, with Erhardt in the room as well. Achilles was nowhere to be seen, though, probably eating.

Instead of Achilles, I counted about four other people in the room barring Erhardt. I even recognized Maxime from my last strike. They were all idling about until Annette and I reached the room, with Erhardt sitting on one of the smaller crates I’d moved.

“I believe that’s everyone,” Erhardt said as I walked inside, closing the door behind me.

“So what’s going on? Another hit?” a partisan I didn’t recognize asked.

Erhardt shook his head, “No, no. Similar, though. I got you all here because we need to do a check-up with one of our informants in the fascist ranks as well as get some fresh intel. Things have gotten complicated recently, so I can’t simply sneak in wearing a uniform and trade cards like I used to.”

Maxime spoke up, “Complicated in what way?”

Erhardt gave a helpless shrug, “I really don’t know enough to tell you. That’s why I have to reach the informant so they can pass on the info we need. I just know that the leash in this arrondissement got way shorter.”

He began to pace a bit as he spoke, “We’ll be going in disguise, with me as the kommandant and Konrad, Maxime, and Hugo in uniform as Wehrmacht soldiers.”

The man pointed at me, Maxime, and one of the other Partisans with a scruffy beard and shaggy brown hair, who I assumed was Hugo

“Annette and Marc will act as hidden back-ups in case things get messy, though they hopefully won’t. Me with a pistol and three bolt-action-wielding gunners won’t be much use against some of the automatics the fascists field if things do go south.”

“Wait, so are we doing this today?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

Erhardt shook his head, “No, I need to check that the outfits fit well enough beforehand.”

He snapped opened the crate, gesturing for us to get closer, “So grab your uniforms and try them on. The last thing we need is for someone to mess up in the middle of it.”