Alexi scowled over at Klaus, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the shack and sharpening his knives. He had his long wool over coat flipped up at the collar to protect him from the blasting wind, pulling on the hooked hood of it as well as he turned away from the German to look out a shattered window at the windswept and desolate landscape.

"You know, they say that if you do that too much, your face will get stuck that way." Came the German's musings from behind him, along with the hiss of steel.

"Why do you care if I'm stuck scowling at you?" Alexi snapped his temper no better for the howling of the winds.

"I don't. But others might." Shrugged Klaus, getting to his feet. "Cheer up Kolechin, we saved lives today." As he spoke he sheathed his wrist blade, and clicked his concealed pistol to make sure it was loaded.

"Cheer up? Cheer up?" Seethed Alexi, whirling on him. "How am I supposed to cheer up when I am currently squatting in the ruins of my own cities? How am I supposed to cheer up when there's a war raging right over there," he pointed "And how am I supposed to cheer up when there's a German, who I'm supposed to hate, standing right in front of me that I can't kill?"

"It's not the race of the man that determines who we kill." Klaus said after a moment. His easy going manner had flown out the window, along with Alexi's patience. "It's the man himself. You would do well to remember that."

"And those soldiers? You went up and killed them all because they were all evil men who were going to kill innocents? Not because they were German?"

"That, there was no time to judge them." Klaus said shortly. "They had to die. And they had already chosen the darker path, the others had a chance at the light and we gave it to them."

"I can't believe you!" Alexi said, laughing hollowly. "Your supposed to be one of the nobler members of our Brotherhood, and yet in a moment you shed your own precious Arian-" he was cut off as Klaus slammed him against the wall, gripping him by the throat with one hand and the hidden blade pricking at his stomach.

"Do not compare me to them" He snarled in Alexi's face, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. "I am not like them." He let the words sink in, and then he shoved Alexi away from him and sheathed his blade. "Go to sleep. Tomorrow we are to enter France. There is a man there who is to die." Then he left the shack, intending to sleep elsewhere. Alexi watched as flurries of snow landed on the strong shoulders of the other man, Klaus's standard issued black overcoat standing out in stark comparison to the snow before he walked towards the ruins, where it blended with the charred beams and the heaps of ashes and rubble.

Shaking his head, Alexi turned away, picking up his knap sack, and following. Four eyes were better than two, and they could keep better watch if he came with him. He followed Klaus into the wreckage. The German Assassin was picking his way through the rubble nimbly, never touching the beams or the stones. The Russian did his best to copy him, and doing pretty well considering he was carrying the supplies that they both needed. Klaus never looked back once as he walked; stopping in what must be the ruins of a downstairs.

"This will do." He nodded. There was a half a stair case to his left, a burnt carpet on the floor, and rubble scattered over everything. There was an overhang made up of the roof and the floor of the second floor, and under here it was bare of any snow. Alexi nodded, dropping the sack in the overhang. Next he crouched by it, pulling the strings and untying it. He pulled out a bed roll, unraveling it and flipping onto his back onto it, crossing his arms and legs. After making sure Klaus was still there, and still awake, he closed his eyes, and let himself be dragged down into the blackness of sleep.

Klaus was standing in the remains of a door frame, arms folded and shoulders hunched against the wind as he looked out over the wreckage that had once been a small, decent town. Reduced to rubble by his supposed kin. He spat into the snow in disgust, damning those who led his homeland to the fires of hell and the blades of the Brotherhood as he did so. After a moment he reached into his pocket, pulling out the crumpled paper in it and unfolding it. On it was written one name in spidery black handwriting, seeming to burn through the pale paper.

Lieut-Col. Holtz. Klaus smirked, crumpled up the paper and putting it away, turning his dark eyes back onto the horizon.

"We are coming."

That dawn saw the two Assassins leaving the ruined village by way of two motorcycles they stole from a German motor pool. Klaus, knowing the way, had taken the lead and was currently racing down the dirt and mud road at a precarious speed. Alexi followed a few bike lengths behind him, keeping him in sight but not to close. Mud flew up from the tires as they road, splattering the snow on either side of the roads as well as themselves. But they didn't care; being clean didn't matter in these times.

Klaus occasionally checked the road signs they passed on their way, but didn't pay too much attention to them. They were heading to a town that would have a train. Once there, they could ditch the bikes and take the train the rest of the way to France. There, they would begin their hunt.

The wind that blasted them as they road was cold and icy, heralding a cold winter yet to come although only light snows lay on the ground about them. Alexi felt his nose turning red from the cold as he gripped the handles tighter, the roar of the engine muffling the wind in his ears as it blew his hood down. Leaning forward on his handles, he increased his speed to pull up alongside Klaus, and then slowly pass him. He smirked at Klaus, who raised an eyebrow at him, before returning to the driving.

Klaus watched as Alexi passed him, but he didn't worry. Alexi didn't know where to go, Klaus did. Klaus honked the horn after awhile, getting Alexi's attention. Alexi turned to look over his shoulder.

"This way." Called Klaus, turning his motorcycle to the left sharply and plowing across a field there, the grass snapping brittly under the rubber tires. Alexi was forced to stop his own and turn it before following Klaus off road. The German led the way through the field. As he did so, he reflected slightly on the events of the past few days.

He and Alexi had been assigned to one another by the Master Assassin, Master Modarelli, over a week ago. They worked semi well together, in the field at least. On the road they didn't talk much. It was the down time that was the worst. There was very little of that, but when there was it was often filled with arguing and tension. They had started off on the wrong foot when they first met, Alexi trying to kill Klaus for being a German before realizing who he was. Ever since then things hadn't been very smooth between them. Klaus decided that, if they were to work together for the duration of this war, then that would have to be fixed. But not now, right now there was a train to catch, and a man to kill.