Two German soldiers were patrolling the streets somewhere in the outskirts of German/Nationalist controlled Madrid
"Fuck these Spanish dogs," the taller one spat on the ground. "They've killed our genius Major."
"We don't know that," the smaller one said, tightening his grip on the Karabiner rifle he had slung over his shoulder.
"I've heard from a friend in the Panzer troops that his status remains unknown since that incident ten days ago," the taller one said, anger in his eyes. "You know what that means," he continued, "he's dead, and they're not telling us to keep morale high."
"As I said, you don't know that," the smaller one insisted in an annoyed tone.
"At least we have these Spaniards nearly where we want them. My friend told me that without Major Jaeger, their advance has slowed down, but there is still an advance. They're only three kilometers from the Republican military headquarters," the taller one boasted.
"Your friend tells you quite a lot, doesn't he?" the smaller one asked, his voice growing quieter. "Don't you know how dangerous such indiscretion has become since the incident?"
The taller one's eyebrow twitched slightly. "You're right. Let's focus on the patrol."
Five days earlier, an unknown cellar
A broad man was lying on a bed, his upper body riddled with hundreds of scars, partly illuminated by the weak light coming from an old lantern. His right shoulder, as well as part of his face, were bandaged.When the man raised himself, his shoulder came fully into view.
"Heinrich," a voice called from the other end of the room.
"General," came the hoarse reply.
"We've managed to identify the sniper, with the help of the 'friends' the Führer has sent us," Sperrle said, stepping closer to Paul. He paused for a moment before continuing. "The top sniper of the Republican army. They call him El Verdugo, which means something like the Executioner."
Paul listened to every word Sperrle said in silence.
Sperrle continued.
"Our Executioner had help," Sperrle said coldly.
Paul's eye twitched slightly and his muscles stiffened.
"Who?" Paul asked, speaking the second word since the beginning of their conversation.
"Someone from our own," Sperrle admitted, sighing in disappointment.
"What?" Paul asked in an unidentifiable voice. His body twitched slightly before he slowly stood up. First his legs, then his knees, and finally his entire upper body. Paul towered above Sperrle, with a considerable height difference.
"Who?" Paul asked again, parts of his bandages slowly darkening as blood seeped through.
"Who, Sperrle?" Paul repeated.
"We don't know yet, but it's someone from within," Sperrle said, looking away, seemingly ashamed that they had not found the traitor.
Paul's gaze was dark, his thoughts a mystery. Right at that moment, the door opened and a man stepped in, wearing a completely black German military uniform.
"General… Major, have I intruded at the wrong moment?" The man asked.
"Not at all," Paul answered. "Section Chief…"
"Heydrich," the man replied.
Normally, Paul would have been surprised by the big name. This time, he only smiled slightly and extended his hand.
The man looked somewhat taken aback, yet he smiled in return, shaking Paul's hand before doing the same with Sperrle.
"Well, I don't know how much the General has told you yet, but the main point is this: The Führer has sent the Gestapo to root out potential traitors within the Condor Legion, especially considering this wasn't the first time a traitor has been identified within the Legion. It seems foreign powers have a keen interest in this Legion, in particular… you, Major Jeager," Heydrich said, studying Paul carefully as he spoke.
"Don't misunderstand, this speaks for you, not against you," Heydrich said quickly.
"Thank you, Section Chief, and the Führer, for his special… attentiveness," Paul replied.
"I'm only performing my duty, as we all are, isn't that right?" Heydrich asked, somewhat ironically.
"Of course. I trust you will perform well, but I wish to form my own picture of your work, if you don't mind," Paul said cautiously.
There was a moment of silence; only the dim flickering of the old lamp moved inside the room.
"You are still injured, are you not? You were shot a week ago, Jeager." Sperrle said.
"I am fine. I have experienced worse," Paul replied.
Heydrich's gaze subconsciously wandered to Paul's torso. "Although I don't doubt your spirit, you should recover for a few more days. If you do, you can join us in the investigation."
"Fine, I agree, if I get your permission, General?" Paul asked.
Sperrle thought for a moment before sighing in defeat. "Do what you have to do."
Three days later. Temporary army barracks, Condor Legion, Madrid.
The night was dark. Heavy rain pounded the thin windows of the abandoned building. The wind howled outside like a hungry wolf in search of prey.
Hauptmann Muller listened to the distant thunder, screaming out in defiance while pouring himself a cup of tea. He sat on the bed of the small room he had been granted, located on the first floor of the old but spacious building.
He grabbed the fancy teacup he had bought for himself only recently, raising it toward his mouth, yet his hand was shaking the whole time. Some tea even spilled onto the floor.
The reason: He had heard of strange happenings. Disappearances. Some of the people who vanished were soldiers he did not know, but some were people he had known for years, people close to him.
Those people close to him all had two similarities: their closeness to him and their participation in several shady affairs.
He was scared shitless that he would be next, that someone would come and take him like the rest of his friends. But he couldn't leave. "There is still that person," he whispered, his shaking becoming worse.
Muller drank another sip of his tea when he saw something moving at the corner of his eye. He turned his head toward the window, the outside dark and the pane beaded with raindrops. When the thunder erupted in the distance, Muller lurched backward, dropping his teacup. Not because of the thunder, but because of the dark silhouette standing right before his window: a man clad in a completely black leather coat, his hat pulled deep over his face.
Muller shook his head frantically, his instincts screaming to flee.
He ran toward the door, unlocked it, then tore it open. He ran through, but before he could fully leave his room, he collided with something. Looking up, he realized he had not bumped into an object but into somebody.
The man outside, dressed like the figure at the window, tried to grab him, yet Muller managed to evade, fleeing back into his room and slamming the door.
For a moment there was only the sound of rain.
Then the door was broken open with a loud bang and several men dressed the same way rushed into the room, their pistols raised. Muller tried to grab his own pistol, lying on the desk beside him, yet two men tackled him, throwing him to the ground and holding him down.
Muller screamed frantically: "LET ME GO! YOU BASTARDS! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?"
"We know," a voice said from among the men.
Heydrich removed his low-slung hat, revealing his face. Behind him towered another man, his face still half covered.
Heydrich stepped closer toward the profusely sweating Muller.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? WHO SENT YOU?!" Muller screamed, almost spitting the words.
"You may not know me, but you definitely know him," Heydrich said, gesturing toward the tall man behind him.
The man stepped forward slowly, standing next to Heydrich, then removed his hat.
Muller gasped for air.
"Major Jaeger," he whispered.
It was as if someone had stolen every ounce of energy from Muller.
"He failed, after all," Muller muttered, an insanity spreading in his eyes.
"Why, why?" he continued. "WHY has he abandoned me?!"
"Who? Who abandoned you, Muller?" Heydrich asked, pressing him.
"No… he didn't abandon me. He didn't. He couldn't have," Muller spat out, a twisted smile on his face.
"FOR THE OBERST!" He screamed.
At that moment Paul blinked.
When his eyes opened they revealed a gaze of terror.
His eyes searched for something and found it, noticing something in Muller's hand.
"GRENADE! GET AWAY FROM HIM! " Paul screamed, throwing Heydrich aside and diving behind him.
A deafening explosion erupted where Muller had been lying, engulfing the two Gestapo men and Muller entirely.
Paul coughed up dust and pushed himself up from head to toe, checking that everything was still attached. He checked on Heydrich, who lay beside him, his face full of fury.
That's the second time this strange vision saved me. And it was the second time I nearly lost my life. It doesn't want me to die, Paul thought, almost beginning to laugh. This is so absurd.
"That bastard! That madman!" Heydrich shouted furiously.
More men rushed into the now-blown-out room, checking on their commander and on Paul.
"Have you heard what he shouted there at the end?"Paul asked Heydrich, while helping him up.
"I did."He said with a twisted face.
"Oh and another thing I will remeber this, major. What you just did."Heydrich said looking at Paul intensly.
"Heinrich, please."Paul said, shacking Heydrich's hand.
I gained another madman friend, Paul thought.
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