The fist slammed down into Klaus’ face, knocking him back down. Lying crumpled on the concrete floor of the abandoned factory, his vision swimming from the pain. The darkness around him bore down from all sides, broken only by the few beams of light sneaking in through the cracks of the ceiling.

Albrecht stood over him with a menacing leer on his face. “You thought you could hide from me, Klaus? Thought I wouldn’t find you?” Albrecht’s voice was a low growl, laced with mockery. “There is no possible way that this ends in anything else than your death.”

“Please,” Klaus gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, stop.”

Albrecht chuckled, a chilling sound that echoed through the empty factory. “Stop? Oh no, Klaus, the fun is only just beginning. You should not have put a password on the files you sent. Until you unlock those files, this beating will continue.”

Albrecht’s fists descended again, and no matter how Klaus moved they continued to strike his body sending fresh jolts of agony through his battered body. Time seemed to blur, the blows merging into a single, unending torment. But even as he struggled to protect himself, Klaus couldn’t help but feel something was not quite right.

Finally, Albrecht paused, wiping sweat from his brow. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you, mein dummkopf?” He reached into his coat and pulled out a sword, its blade catching the weak light from above.

If Klaus had been terrified before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. Frantically thrusting his arms up to block Albrecht’s swing downwards. The blade barely slowed as it cut through the ropes binding his arms together. Scrambling backward, Klaus’ eyes darted, searching the darkness for anything that he could use as a weapon. Finally, he found a rusted metal spar, and he gasped for it.

Klaus’ relief at finally being armed turned to confusion as he saw a familiar figure step from the darkness behind Albrecht.

“Here, let me see that,” Franz said, his voice calm and steady.

Albrecht handed the sword over without hesitation, a triumphant sneer on his lips. As soon as the hilt left his hands, Franz moved with lightning speed, turning the blade back on the German gangster. The sneer froze on Albrecht’s face, transforming into a mask of shock and pain as the sword plunged down into his chest.

Franz twisted the blade, then pulled it free, Albrecht’s body crumpling to the floor. Blood pooled around the fallen man, and Franz wiped the blade clean with a rag he seemed to pull from nowhere. His expression not changing, Franz turned to Klaus, who was still half-sprawled across the floor, too stunned to move.

“Don’t worry, Klaus. You have a long, long journey ahead of you yet.” Franz’s voice was almost gentle. “And with a little training, you’ll be killing with the best of them in no time.” He handed the sword to Klaus, gesturing for him to drop the makeshift weapon he had to take the hilt.

“Go on,” Franze urged. “Give it a try.”

Klaus stared down at Albrecht’s lifeless body, his mind a blur. The sword strained in his grip. When he could resist the pull no further, he plunged it down into Albrecht’s chest. The flesh parted with sickening ease, and Klaus felt a grim satisfaction as he raised the sword and drove it down again. Each blow let the next come faster, smoother, and without the hesitation of the one before. Gradually Albrecht’s corpse became only so much meat.

Klaus stepped back, breathing heavily, his eyes seeking Franz. The older man nodded approvingly. “Good. Very good. Now you understand.”

As if being granted permission, Klaus dropped the sword. The clang of metal against concrete echoed through the empty factory. Reality came rushing back to him, as first the sword, then Franz, and finally, the factory itself dissolved into so much red smoke. He had already lived this. While he hadn’t killed Albrecht himself, it had been Franz’s seeking to protect him that had led to the death of Albrecht and the others. Red smoke swirled away in a breeze that he could not feel, leaving only darkness and the realization that Klaus would not be able to go back to the life he had been living the night before last. Though he did not yet know what was in store next, Klaus had a feeling that, deep down, his life now would be one of far more violence and no guarantee of survival.

And he would do whatever it took to endure.

Klaus woke up in a sweat, blankets somehow having become tangled around him in the middle of the night. Still in the clothes of last night, his sheets and pillows were smeared with dirt and dried blood. Wiping his forehead caused some of it to flake away from his face. Rolling onto his side, Klaus felt a hard lump jabbing into his hip. Shifting the other way, he groggily reached down into his pocket.

The grenade from last night.

Instantly awake, Klaus gently pulled the explosive out from under the sheets to set it on the side table next to his bed. Breathing out, he sat up and again rubbed his face while his heart gradually stopped trying to escape his chest. What the hell was he going to do with a grenade?

It was at that point that the smell hit him. Surging upright out of the bed, he rushed to the bathroom. Flinging the toilet-seat open, Klaus thrust his head down towards the bowl as vomit came bursting out of his mouth. He heaved several times over the next few minutes.

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Finally when it seemed like his stomach was truly empty, Klaus slumped back down on the floor to lean against his bathroom sink. So many people had died last night. Even most people he knew would agree that they had been some of the worst of what humanity had to offer in this city, they were still men. Men who were now dead. And Klaus had been a part of that.

Pushing morbid memories aside for the moment, he began turning over the strangeness of last night. The whirlwind of his capture, torture, and almost death. The stranger Franz; how he moved and killed so easily, and with a sword at that. Most of all, the apparently real healing potions. He only had to glance at the small mirror that hung alongside the doorway to see how starkly his new scars stood out against his still-pale face and arms. The events of last night could not possibly have been real, yet they had happened all the same.

Eventually, Klaus made his way out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom. He stripped his bed, tossing the sheets into a pile on his floor. Frowning at seeing the red and brown stained pillows, he resolved to throw them out and get new ones.

Once he was done with his bed, Klaus pulled his own shredded clothes off, adding them to the pile on the floor. Naked for the first time since the violence of last night, Klaus was dismayed to see the scars that now were on his face and arms traced themselves in jagged lines over his entire body. While not a vain man by any stretch, the fact was that he now looked like he had lost a fight with a drunken wood-chipper wielding steak knives.

Much like the memories from last night, he pushed the thoughts about his body away as best he could. Striding over to his shower, he set it as hot as he could. Checking with his hand several times, it finally reached the uncomfortable scalding that he felt would be needed to wash the blood and dirt from his body.

While he would much rather take his time getting clean, Klaus knew that he could not. Franz had said that he would be coming by in the morning and, based on the sun beginning to appear beyond his window, he could be arriving at any time.

Scrubbing as hard as he could, Klaus removed every bit of blood and dirt that he could see on his body. When he stepped from the shower, his skin glowed pink from the heat, making the white scars stand out that much more.

After getting dressed in some of his more comfortable clothes, Klaus made his way to the kitchen. The table was still cluttered with his player character notes and dirty plates, but the thing that immediately seized his attention was the dagger lying off to the side. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. While he remembered the brutal simplicity of the blade, the steel itself seemed a bit different from the cooking implements he had used in the past. Perhaps it was simply that this was designed to be a weapon first and foremost.

A heavy knock came on his door.

Before he knew what he was doing, Klaus was gripping the dagger close and moving a quietly as he could to look through the eyehole of his door into the hallway. Franz looked much as he had last night, though he was standing back and with both hands open and empty in clear view.

Disengaging the lock he did not remember setting last night, Klaus opened the door to let Franz inside.

“Good morning,” Franz said in greeting, eyes staring into Klaus’ face before locking onto the dagger still gripped firmly in his fist. He nodded in approval. “Those instincts will serve you well. You never know when someone might be a threat. Luckly for you,” he grinned, “I am quite the opposite. You mind setting that down so we can talk?”

“Right. Sure.” Klaus loosened his grip and gestured Franz over to his kitchen table. Pushing things aside to make room, he set the dagger down and motioned for Franz to sit. As he sat down himself, Klaus rubbed his eyes again.

“The dreams will be the worst over the next few days,” said Franz before Klaus could ask any of the many questions on his mind. “Then they will gradually get better.”

“Will they ever go away altogether?”

Franz shook his head sadly. “No, they likely won’t. But if they ever do, you will have another problem.”

The strange man went silent. Eyes looking around Klaus’ apartment, he seemed to be taking in as much as he could, yet was also seeming to be avoiding talking about what had happened the previous night. Unfortunately for Franz, Klaus had long ago grown used to silence. The quiet hours and days in the hospital bed had helped instill in him a patience for conversation that he had yet to see equaled by anyone else.

Finally Franz himself could take the silence no longer.

“Your patience reminds me a bit of him.” Before Klaus could interject to ask who, Franz was already shaking his head. “Later. We have a few things to address first, then we will have a good breakfast and talk the rest of it out. Well, I will talk. You will listen.” He paused, eyes going down to the dirty plates. “I’m assuming you haven’t eaten yet, boy?”

“No,” Klaus shook his head at the dirty plates, “I just haven’t cleaned up from yesterday yet.”

“That is fine. I know a delightful place nearby, we will go there in a minute. But first, I wanted to put your mind at ease. The women that we saved last night? They are safe and sound at the place I have been staying. I also,” he continued before Klaus could ask a question, “checked in on your family before I came here. They are safe and unharmed. Whatever you did last night seemed to have done the trick to keep them from coming to the attention of the Blood Eagles. Now, that brings us to the question you have to answer before we go any further. Do you want the answers to all your questions, or do you want to go back to your life from before last night?”

“Is that really an option?”

“Yes,” Franz nodded, “though you will keep the memories of what happened, we will go our separate ways and I will not bother you again.”

After Franz’s response, Klaus took a long minute to consider. What did he want? A not-so-insignificant part of him yearned to return to his life of yesterday. A life were he worked a job that he enjoyed, with a man he respected, and was making strides toward becoming a doctor that would be able to help the people that needed it most. A life where he spent weekends with his friends playing games and pretending to be heroes, but never having to deal with the darker sides of Volksturm.

But that really wasn’t possible anymore.

Dr. Halter was dead, and his future as a doctor had likely died with him. And though he still had his friends, Klaus did not think he could return to those weekends of fun and games after what he had experienced last night. At the very least it would take him a long time to do so. Before he gave his answer, he had one last thing to ask.

“A question, before I give my answer?” With Franz’s nod to continue, Klaus asked, “What would you do if you were in my situation?”

“Knowing what I know now?” Franz asked.

“Sure.”

“Boy,” Franz said with a large grin on his face, “I would have already said yes and been out the door and on my way to that breakfast I told you about.”

“Alright,” Klaus said, making up his mind. “Where is this breakfast place you keep mentioning?”

If it was possible, Franz’s grin got even wider.

“Boy, you are going to love it.”