I extracted my MP 40 and aimed it at the wall the spy was hiding behind. It was time to snuff out the rat.

I shot at it continuously with one handed, don’t try this at home kids, the recoil on this thing was tremendous. But I didn't let up, I had more than enough bullets in this machine to spare and if it was a little roughhousing the spy wanted then I’d give it to him good.

“Who are you!” I yelled, stopping my assault momentarily to let him hear me. I got nothing in return, so he wasn’t the talking type, I could fix that. “I thought you wanted to talk!” I peeked over the wall, and another two shots fired over my head. I skid across the floor when I fell back to dodge them, then rolled over to position myself on the other side of my wall cover. Then I yelled in German, “Das war unhöflich!”

He grunted, loud and clear. I translated that noise to him understanding me, which was as good a start as any.

“Ich weiß, dass du ein Spiel mit mir spielst,” I followed with, he seemed to like German instead of English then.

Beside me was an opening out of the building site, it was more of a hole in the wall, but you get my gist. I took the chance to dash out of it, running outside the perimeter to reach the side the spy was on. I managed to catch a glimpse of his back running up the metal stairs to the second floor.

Seeing him run like that made me a little trigger happy, so I followed him up there, shooting until I found a new place for cover. This facility wasn’t much of a playing field, it was far too fragile to have any real fun.

I was now practically spitting distance away from the spy. It would be too easy to keep firing towards his general direction until he had no choice but to surrender. Unless he had something up his sleeve.

Just as I was about to shoot, he finally spoke.

“You’re pretty good for a scout!”

It was no surprise that the moment I heard his voice it would throw me back into the mines of Shinkolobew. Back then I used to get upset by the mud I collected on my boots after patrolling the area around my tent for some fresh air. Now I occasionally forget to dodge a bullet and got annoyed at the blood staining my clothes.

“Sigma,” my eyes widened, I needed to know that what I was hearing was true and not some delusion of madness. War could play on a person’s mind, and I didn’t have time for tricks.

Sigma whistled, he walked out of the half wall he was standing behind, he had his arms up in a defensive position, ready in case I made any sudden movements. I stood up too, then my knees wobbled, struggling to stand firm. I had no words for this moment, so I held my tongue and prayed Sigma was meeting me with good intentions.

“Seelenschlucker,” he had the same bedroom voice I would hear over the frequency in the mines, and I’ve never heard someone make Seelenscklucker sound so sexy. God must have gifted Sigma with that voice, there was no other explanation for it. “… I’ll be honest I didn’t think you’d make it this far when I first met you, I’m surprised,”

“You’re ... you're ..." My lip was quivering. I bit on it, then sighed loudly. "A real … bastard,” I slapped my hand on my grazed shoulder, remembering that it was bleeding freely. In the heat of battle it was easy to forget wounds from the adrenaline rush a fight could give you. I was a sucker for that feeling, no doubt about that.

Sigma approached me, the game was off, I put my weapon down and allowed him to come over. “I didn’t realise you were this bitchy, I barely grazed you,” out of spite I almost removed my hand to let my blood flow freely to show him what he did. But that wasn’t necessary.

Sigma knew exactly what he had done to me. He left his mark, next to the other battle wounds I now carried on my body. “I had to make sure you were the real deal, Slee-Len-Scklu-Cker,” he was being nonchalant, waving his pistol in the air as he gestured my codename with his hand.

I looked at Sigma point blank, there was no smile on his face, but I could spot a tease when I heard one, “Are you teasing me?” he cracked a smile, then rubbed it away with his hand immediately. Did I just make him smile?

“It’s just a mouthful of a name, and it doesn’t suite you either,” he grunted, turning away. He holstered his pistol, tucking it down the strap on his muscular thigh. He wore a tight fit stealth suit that left little to the imagination, not that I was complaining. “I’ve heard stories,” Ah yes, the stories.

No one got a title without a few stories to back it up. During my raids before I joined the Normandy front lines, a lot of blood was spilled, and I was once caught strangling a Nazi with my own bare hands along with a violet splash of red on my face during a set up that went sideways. A Nazi officer escaped having seen my face, and so, Seelenscklucker was born.

Ultimately, I was fine with it. The whole story circulating amongst the officers helped me get switched from a spy to a field combat in the first place. And I haven’t regretted it since.

“What did you think of those stories?” I asked Sigma, keeping a close eye on his facial expression. I don’t know what he’d heard about me, but something inside me hoped the rumours impressed Sigma. I couldn’t help it, I wanted him to be impressed with me, even after all this time I still held high regards for this man.

His dark eyes lowered, and I saw something soft wash over him. “You’ve become vicious. I see war has changed you, especially this one, it’s easy to become consumed in this sort of battlefield. I mean, I barely recognised you when you walked through the door just then,” Was he … concerned?

“Are you judging me? I’m a soldier, just like you, who are you to tell me about my choices?” My eyes couldn’t focus on him, somehow, I found myself paralysed by Sigma’s words. It was like he was talking right through me.

“No, you’re not a soldier. A soldier follows the mission, you follow your instincts … I’ve heard the stories Lukstein, sooner or later your choices in this path are going to bother you, and you’ll realise that soon,” he said it like he knew.

I snapped at him in that moment, unable to hold my tongue, “Who knows if I’ll live long enough to be bothered by the sins I’ve committed,” nearly every day I woke up to gun shots or alarms to warn everyone of air raids. I didn’t have time to think about morality out here on the battlefield, I thought about victory, and guiding my unit towards it.

All that mattered was the mission, at least that much of my training from the OSS has remained.

Sigma was turning from me now, ready to make my leave. Was this all he had come here for, to berate me? I drew my machine gun, aiming it at his back. This was a dishonourable act, to pull the trigger now would only prove his point. I was no Judas, damnit. I inhaled sharply, lowering my weapon.

I wasn’t the vicious monster he was alluding me to be. I was a soldier, and killing Sigma was not my mission. Nor did I hope it ever would be.

“Don’t ever do that again,” his words were final, and there was a killer look in his eyes I couldn’t quite describe, "before I leave I wanted to tell you about what the Nazis are planning next …” we talked briefly after that, Sigma told me the location of a number of German camps of which I memorised in my head. His intel did my unit a great service as we marched onwards in the war.

It took a couple months but, we come through.

When Normandy was successfully taken over in June, and the operation was over and done with. Sigma was no where to be seen during the victory celebrations, but that was just his style. And he did it seamlessly … fading in and out of my life like the ghost he was.

He really drove me crazy sometimes.

.

.

Lukstein’s German:

Das war unhöflich: That was rude

Ich weiß, dass du ein Spiel mit mir spielst: I know that you are playing a game with me