Klaus Rommel's Story

Anxious to know what was afoot, I got up and followed him. He was standing in the middle of the room, his face pale. "Come outside with me," he said in a tight voice. We went into my room. "I have just had to tell your mother," he began slowly, "that I shall be dead in a quarter of an hour." He was calm as he continued: "To die by the hand of one's own people is hard. But the house is surrounded and Hitler is charging me with high treason. 'In view of my services in Africa'," he quoted sarcastically, "I am to have the chance of dying by poison. The two generals have brought it with them. It's fatal in three seconds. If I accept, none of the usual steps will be taken against my family, that is against you. They will also leave my staff alone."
"Do you believe it?" I interrupted. "Yes," he replied. "I believe it. It is very much in their interest to see that the affair does not come out into the open. By the way, I have been charged to put you under a promise of the strictest silence. If a single word of this comes out, they will no longer feel themselves bound by the agreement."
I tried again. "Can't we defend ourselves…" He cut me off short. "There's no point," he said. "It's better for one to die than for all of us to be killed in a shooting affray. Anyway, we've practically no ammunition."

Klaus Rommel shivered a little as he placed the papers and the diary into his personal lockbox, his grandfather's account of his great-grandfather's death echoing in his mind. When did his grandfather give his father these? What did his father think of them? Their famed ancestor, the one who brought so much respect of their family name in Germany and throughout Nazi Europe, had been executed for treason, the rest of his family and staff saved only by Rommel's previous service. Erwin Rommel had been innocent and that should have relieved him, but his great grandfather still wanted to arrest the Führer and put him on trial for war crimes and treason. He had defied Nazi racial policy and treated the enemy with dignity.

Klaus was lost in thought as he dressed himself for the military exercises in about five minutes, pondering on the diary. His family and history claimed that General Erwin Rommel was a firm believer in National Socialism, but that wasn't the case. However, for the life of him, he didn't know what to do with the information. He had settled upon ignoring it for now. He had his future career to think about. Still he was looking at the past in a whole new light.

Luke rummaged around in his badly overstuffed coat pockets looking for the timetable, but it was something of a lost effort. How have I managed to accumulate so many loyalty cards? Haircuts, milkshakes, bagels, about three different coffee shops...

Giving up he racked his brains and found, rattling around somewhere, the inkling the first class on a Monday was History with Mr Kalvis. Kalvis was one of the few professors Luke was able to name from memory...he was certainly a memorable character from the somewhat amusing and highly contrived likeness to Hitler. That, he decided, should make for a gentle start to the morning! Assuming he was right about the class that is.

He pulled out his phone again and flicked through the contacts trying to determine who would be the best person to ask. The first name to catch his eye was Rommel, Klaus. Luke hadn't spoken to him that many times, but early impressions suggested that he was Luke's kind of guy. Intelligent, pro-active, striking, the kind of person who'd make you look good just by hanging around with you. Luke had heard someone say that Klaus came from an important family too, and he was inclined to believe it, since a lot of the 'elite' families preferred to send their kids to England for education, and Kolonia in particular.

Hitting 'dial' he put the phone to his ear and waited.

"Klaus?" he began, "Hey...hey it's Luke. Luke from Delahei campus. Are you on your way to class mate? It's Kalvis first thing isn't it?"

He kept walking briskly towards the humanities wing of the academy, already hedging his bets on his first guess.

The military drills were tough, but Klaus found them satisfying. His muscles ached pleasantly and he could still feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He had changed out of his training clothes and into a slightly more formal uniform, an iron cross beneath his neck and a bronze eagle over his front pocket. At his name, he looked up. He smiled slightly. He looked familiar.

"Klaus?" he began, "Hey...hey it's Luke. Luke from Delahei campus. Are you on your way to class mate? It's Kalvis first thing isn't it?"

"Guten Tag, Luke. How is, er, fashion design?" he asked the other student as he made his way to history class. Truthfully, it escaped him why anyone would be interested in designing different outfits as a career. Personally, he didn't see much point. He preferred simple, practical clothes himself, though, at times, he could appreciate the different fashions the opposite sex tried out.

He made small talk with Luke until he sat down near the front of the class, next to Alexandra Himmler-Schellenburg. He knew the woman, but he wasn't close to her. He stared at the teacher Truthfully, he felt Mr. Kelvis was ridiculous. The man seemed to try so hard to emulate the old Führer that he forgot to be himself. Klaus admired his great-grandfather, of course, but he still considered himself his own person, even if his great-grandfather's thoughts led him to question a few things...

"Kolonia Professor," Viktor ceased walking at the call out from the professor of the class he would be attending at this time,pure habit brought him to military 'at ease'. If he had to guess, the call out was probably due to his own tardiness. Regardless of the situation, he knew that the man was effectively his CO during this time period. Despite that, he refused to salute, class was one thing, combat was an entirely different thing. "Sorry for the tardiness, Administration needed to finalize some things." The weak excuse was offered merely to cut off an immediate outburst.

If anything, he's just going to throw a fit and try to embarrass me so no one even thinks about being late again. Viktor internally shrugged at the notion, essentially it was the same nonsense every rookie put up with during day one basic. Due to a lack of orders, he kept standing in place while awaiting further address. In a way, he expected to spent the entirety of class standing in this manner because it's what he'd do to a recruit. With that very thought in mind surveyed the classroom and those inside. The first set he noticed were the princess-Himmel something- and the Luftwaffen pilot from earlier. Next to catch his eye was some pretty boy that seemed oddly conscious of certain occupants of the room...presumably due to social status matters. There was also a young man, roughly his height and vaguely similar to those of the acclaimed Desert Fox. If nothing else, the mans bore the face of one often awake for extended periods...a thinker perhaps? Beyond that he noted characters similar to those of any real social hierarchy and for the most part none of them truly stood out, a fact he found rather disappointing.

Finishing up the classroom line up was of course the professor-Hitler 2- complete with same stupid haircut and mustache. The man strut around like a peacock, clearly a man proud of himself. However there was something in his attitude that clearly separated his pride from the blonde girl. Clearly there was some deeper issue or obsession that drove him, either way 'Vladimir' could only infer that 'Viktor' was confronting a fanatic.

Alexandra turned her head to watch the dark-haired Slavic girl walking in. As with everyone, she knew who the girl was. Not personally, naturally, but by name and face. When Oren's eyes flashed over her face Alexandra watched a familiar glint of hatred in her eyes. All Alex responded with was a smirk of acknowledgement. She knew what Oren was thinking, and the young woman found herself amused by the fact that she too would appreciate ripping the mustache right out of Klavis's face. A thought that often entertained many of the people who knew the man.

It gave Alexandra great pleasure to know that she could knock down Klavis at her whim for she knew that he would dare not strike back. After all, she did report back to her father on how the instructors were doing in the school. Not that she would sink that low to let personal quarrels with any of them affect their reports.

Once more she let her thoughts stray to the Kovalenko girl. Unlike most other members of the Nazi Elite, Alexandra found a certain sort of respect for the Soviets. The Slavs, the Russians. Even when scores of them had been cut down, those right behind them continued to charge on to fight. No matter how many the Germans killed, two more would replace every one lost in battle. It was a morbid yet fascinating display of expendable human resources that the Third Reich could only dream of having.

And as she looked over Oren, she could see the strength those people had in the dark-haired girl. Whereas most of the Aryan Elite of the Reich would have looked at Kovalenko and seen only a dirty, scarred Slav, Alexandra saw someone with fight and strength. A waste. Not a waste for someone like Oren to have such traits, but for someone with those traits like Oren to be merely used for medial and mindless work. This was the way things were, certainly, but if given a chance Alexandra had no doubt that someone like Oren could be turned into a valuable member of the Reich. The lord knew that the Wehrmacht could do with more of those people.

She pondered briefly in Darren Hanley could fill such a role. He was already growing into the Luftwaffe. But he didn't seem fit to become a fighter pilot. He was too... finicky. Too nervous. Both eager to try and make those above him approve of him but yet too afraid of screwing up to try. He was impressionable. All things that made her think that she had the perfect job for him, no matter how taboo it may have been.

So many thoughts and she wasn't half through.

Her eyes shot down to Klaus Rommel. He held a special place on her scoreboard. He knew what she thought of him. The Great-Grandson of a traitor. The Great-Grandson of a man who had tried to end the beginning of the great Empire they had today. She didn't like him much. She could see his great-grandfather inside of him.

Luke was somewhat liften by the fact that the Rommel guy had remembered his area of speciality.

"It's going well thanks!" he replied, "You heard of D-Cubed at all? Belgian fashion house, they're doing a show for unity week in the Art Centre. The theme looks pretty military so, I dunno, you might find it interesting. Mind you, I suppose you army guys have got something impressive planned this week, right?"

Once they arrived in class Luke moved to his usual place, trying his best not to make eye contact with Mr Kalvis just because he knew it would be difficult not to burst into laughter. If that was how the Erstefuhrer looked, it's a wonder a whole nation came to take him seriously...

He coughed to retain his composure and looked over at Klaus, who has sat down next to Alexandria. Now that girl was something else. People in sever uniform was scarcely an unusual sight in Kolonia, but to see someone so young in an SS outfit, and know that they weilded potentially so much power and influence...it did feel a bit disconcerted at the best of times. Everyone always talked about how the SS had all this secret technology and ways and means - he wondered uncomfortably if she could hear his thoughts or something. Hopefully not, considering what he's just been thinking about Hitler!

"Very good." Andrius nodded at Viktor as he apologised. "Well I don't believe in excuses or inductions, so just take a seat and we shall proceed."

Before stepping into the classroom, Andrius gave the young man one last suspicious glance. There was something slightly distinctive about him. He looked eastern European, yet his accent was markedly German. Almost perfect German, no real regional lilt to it at all. Yet his decorations spoke volumes, so Andrius was inclined to withold judgement upon him until he knew a little more about him. No point unwittingly dressing down an important student.

He made his way to the front of class and hit a button next to the whiteboard to beging the recorder which would replicate his board marking digitally for students to review later. Turning to face the class, he raised his right and greeted them with a crisp, "Heil Freumann".

At that moment one of the lesserborn serfs entered the room with his desk victuals. His face dropped into a contemptful frown, which deepened as the grl gave her explanation.

"Two things about that piece of information you've given me Freulein." he said sternly, "Firstly, it is exactly what you would tell me if you were merely lazy and slow. Secondly, it is a matter of supreme indifference to me why you are late or what the affairs are in the kitchen. Now please provide everyone in the room with a copy of C. Kholler from the bookshelf and waste no more of our time."

He turned his gaze away from Oren dismissively and stood behind his desk, dead centre to the class and began to address them.

"I trust you have all checked your bulletins this morning and are aware that this is the 70th celebration of Unity Week. For this reason we are going to put the Roman Empire on hold, and review the events which this week is in place to honour and commemorate. Now..."

He turned to the whiteboard and began to write.

"You've all studied this so I expect quick answers, just call it out if you know. What was the year in which the allies surrendered?"

There was hardly a delay in the reply, as every student in the room said "1945".

"Seventy years ago today." Andrius affirmed. "And when did the countries of Europe accept unity under the Nazi empire."

This time the answere was more mumbled and varied.

"A week later, with the hanging of the war criminal Winston Churchill. OK, a more difficult one now, let's think about some of the heroes we celebrate this week. Who was the commander of the Army Group Vistula famously decorated on Hitler's birthday only two weeks before the Nazi victory...?"

The cold, harsh tone of the SS woman’s parting sentence made Darren wince. He’d let her get to him. She got his weak side and sunk her claws into it. He wouldn’t be able to shake her off him now. She saw how uncomfortable the whole conversation made him. Even if it was brief. The SS had power, a hell of a lot of it. She could do whatever she liked with him and Darren would have to follow orders. If he didn’t? Well, he shuddered at what might become of him. The SS want’s you gone and no one asks questions, why would they? Shaking his head he walked into the classroom behind everyone else.

Darren spied a lone desk near the back of the class. He made a beeline for it and snapped it up before anyone else could. He would rather not draw any more attention to himself. He’d hate to ruin all the fun for the pure Nazis on his first day back. Slumping into the chair he relaxed himself. If he had to listen to Hitler junior babble on for a while he should at least be comfortable.

Darren’s mind was drawn to an email he had received earlier from his superior officer, General der Flieger Schafer. Schafer seemed to be the only person in Kolonia that didn't care if Darren was an lower born or not. He only cared about flying skills. He wanted the best regardless of background, and Darren was damn good. Schafer had sent Darren an email informing him that he shall be taking part in a flyover of the college campus for the Unity Day celebrations.

Darren was of course honored at the prospect. He was scheduled to perform a squad flyover in formation and a few minutes solo trickery. Or showing off as General Schafer had worded it. Daren was excited to get back in the cockpit. The last 2 months had been spent learning the theory of aerial combat. Now he could put it all to use.

Waking from his daydream he realised a dark haired girl walk in. She was lower born too. She must have been, who else would do the dirty work for the ‘pures’. He enjoyed the thought that he wasn't alone in here. There were no other lesser born in the Luftwaffe campus. Everyone there was a student of something. Whether it be engineering or aerodynamics they were all students.

As he zoned back into the actual class itself he heard the lecturer parroting away dates and names. All very exciting stuff. Eventually Darren came to rest his eyes on the back of the SS womans head. He should at least find out her name. Better to know the name of thine enemy right? And even though she made him feel uncomfortable, he found her very intriguing.

Klaus only listened half-heartedly to Luke. He watched him glance at Alexandra in fear, but he showed no emotion other than a friendly smile of greeting to her. Beneath the surface, however, he was putting together a puzzle which he only now had the pieces to solve. The girl had always seemed to hate him. He had had no idea why for a long time, but after finding his great grandfather's diary, he now understood. She suspected him as a potential traitor, which was natural, considering her job. He had heard rumors of the SS and their secrets. His Great Grandfather alluded to a "Final Solution" to the "Jewish Problem" in his journal entries. He suspected something dire, something that would be hidden by SS secrecy. He wondered how much she knew.

He watched the servant enter the room. She was Slavic by the looks of her. Her name was Oren Kovalenko if he recalled correctly. He had detected the looks of hatred she gave him and the others and it made him slightly uncomfortable, though he understood it. At the professor's question, he could not help but smile slightly. He raised his hand and proceeded to answer dutifully.

"Sir. Army Group Vistula was first proposed by General Heinz Guderian. The new Army Group Vistula was duly formed from an assortment of rebuilt, new and existing units. Guderian intended to propose Field-Marshal Maximilian von Weichs as commander. However, the Führer appointed Heinrich Himmler. Himmler, an administrator and organizer who lacked any real military knowledge, proved inadequate to the task; General Gotthard Heinrici replaced Himmler as commander of Army Group Vistula on 20 March, subsequent to its participation in the German offensive codenamed Operation Solstice. Command shifted from Heinrici to Kurt von Tippelskirch as acting commander for Kurt Student who would later take commander of the Army Group near the end of the war.

However, Kurt von Tippelskirch was awarded and decorated, not Kurt Student, for his successful leadership. So, while it would be correct to say Kurt Student was in command when the army group was decorated, its success was mostly due to Kurt von Tippelskirch according to historical records. The previous two commanders failed: Heinrici for retreating in batte against the Führer's orders, and Himmler thanks to his military inexperience. After the end of the war, the Wehrmacht retained its autonomy within the Reich."

He paused for a moment and asked, almost to himself.

"Was the Führer mistaken and misused Heinrich Himmler, who was proven to be quite skilled as the leader of the SS and known for good organisational skills and for selecting highly competent subordinates, but not military leadership? Or did the Führer see something in Himmler which he failed to live up to? I confess that I have a hard time figuring it out. What is your opinion, Professor? Could the Führer ever be mistaken or could the Reichsführer have failed?"

Katherina, often called Kate by the native English-speakers at the school or Katrin by the German majority, rushed quickly into class. By her rather disheveled appearance and the fact that her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, it was obvious she had just come from early morning flight practice.

Her uniform was a cross between Alexandra's and Darren's. Like Alexandra's, it was fitted and had the two components of the shorter pencil skirt, white blouse, and black heels. On her upper right arm was the customary red swastika armband and on her head was a sidecap. Fortunately the fabric that all parts of the dress uniform were made out of were much lighter and breathable material than the older wool used.

She took her seat quickly, refusing to make eye contact with Kalvis for fear of bursting out in laughter. Oddly enough, he'd probably be the only on not laughing. The Black Eagle looked up at the teacher, shrugging as an excuse. Most of her instructors knew that she would often be at least a few minutes late when she had their class first. She gave a quick nod to Darren at the back of the classroom and a smirk to Alexandra. The two came from influential and high families in the Reich.

She spared a glance and Klaus and Luke. Neither she particularly cared for. Klaus because he was just... strange, and Luke just wasn't her taste.

Viktor managed to keep his face impassive for Professor Kalvis's answer in regards to his tardiness. He kept this stone visage as he searched for a seat relatively out of the way yet not interfere with what learning should be talking place in class. On the inside however, Vladimir felt his heart pumping like crazy. Had he made a mistake in his judgement call, and if so what other mistakes had he made due to his assumptions on the basic precepts of Nazi society? The worries were swiftly put to rest when a woman quite similar to those back home stepped in. Unsurprisingly her own excuse was promptly dismissed in a fashion he found rather insulting then ordered to fetch books for her fellow students.

A slight tensing in his own jaw was all he could allow as expression at this difference in treatment. But for the sake of his cover, he had to let this one slide. This did little to change the fact that he was rather close to a set of the books himself. To that end he merely grabbed the nearby pile before venturing towards a seat rather close to the back. As 'Viktor' he justified the action as accelerating the process of the learning environment. After all the SS were known for their loyalty to ruler and nation, what better way to express this-right now- than attempting to optimize the time spent in class? To further that end, he passed down portions of the pile he'd grabbed on the trip to his own seat before sitting himself down.

Kalvis wasted no time in asking a question he couldn't answer. Such matters hadn't been deemed worth covering at any point in his rather focused education. Luckily, the brainy looking student from before stepped in and provided an answer. This ultimately meant he wouldn't have to be called on to answer. One thing he didn't expect though was the kids question at the end...was he seriously questioning Nazi leadership foundation? If he had to guess based off the reaction of some of his fellow students, this was a sensitive topic. In regards to it, he knew as an SS he could endorse neither Hitler nor Himmler being at fault even though he knew Hitler was not Aryan and thus should be the more likely candidate in the 'genetic sense'.

Viktor felt himself standing, and he couldn't keep himself from shaking. From here on out he was flying blind and scared, even though he kept his face neutral. "If I may," Viktor kept his voiced crisp and short. Something of an attempt to disguise nerves while utilizing the occasional quiver in his voice.

"In regards to the Führer und the Reichsführer," at this point the uncertainty in his voice gave way to an iron hard tone. In a way those two were 'the enemy' more than anyone else. After all his years fighting hatred could only be the expected reaction towards their names. 'Vladimir' was forced to gulp down his feelings, 'Viktor' even swallowed to mirror that statement.

"Attempting to say one or the other was insufficient or wrong is clearly not the instance. After all even if a leader is completely optimal, the past seventy years being the herald of that genius. A sub-par subordinate could make a mistake and said mistake is then blamed upon the leader since the incompetence of a lesser resulted in the leader responding perfectly to the wrong circumstance. Furthermore regardless of the excellence of an order, a subordinate can easily make a mistake in execution...something a civilian would also mistake as the fault of the leader. Also one needs to account for the fact being underestimated is the greatest asset in war, and given the excellence of our Intelligence Division the whole matter could have been a facade."

At this point Viktor forced himself into his seat again, jaw locked closed. In all honesty having to defend people like Hitler and Himmler went against everything he was taught. But from a military standpoint, he knew first hand that his points would be valid to those from an outside perspective. Despite his own opinion: Hitler was incompetent at best in matters military and Himmler while talented was too ambitious and self-absorbed for his own good.

Andrius had been poised with his pen against the whiteboard waiting for a short answer. When Klaus began to speak he paused, and turned slowly, fixing the young man with an enigmatic glare, compelling him to complete his contribution. When Klaus seemed to pause Andrius opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the students continued out-loud musings.

With a mixture of indignation and confusion he weighed up how to respond to Klaus, when almost without delay someone else spoke up in riposte, and Andrius was surprised to notice it was the new student, Viktor. His brow slowly raised in curiosity as the newcomer's analysis unfolded, and he nodded slightly in approval, taking a moment only to make brief, unassuming eye contact with Katherina who walked in late, for acceptable reasons Andrius was well aware of.

"Very interesting." Andrius said when Viktor concluded. "That any of Hitler's decisions could have been a facade - a feign - is a fascinating and plausible conjecture. That the merit of any decision is weighed by the longstanding results, this is a certainty. For example, we know from Himmler's later writings that he would have happily united with the British and Americans to go to war against Russia and crush communism forever. We know also that the invasion of Russia was, on the bare face of the matter, well and truly routed. Yet we consider what may have happened if there had been no invasion. Would the Wermacht have been so at liberty to drive the allies west into the sea with Ivan clawing at our backs? So do we owe the Nazi victory in Europe to the Nazi defeat in Russia? If so, is this a matter of luck rather than judgement?

The question is academic. Charles Darwin teaches us that as many varied ways there are to be alive, there are far many more ways to be dead. Why do all gazelle's run from lions? No doubt many gazelles have been born who did not run from lions, but those gazelles did not live to propogate their genes. Is there a scenario where the Nazis did not invade Russia and ten million German lives were not lost in that campaign? Yes, but that scenario is not the one which prevailed to propogate it's legacy. In the same way, I promise you that ten generations from now, people may ask 'Why is there no society which is no Nazi?', and the answer shall be..."

He paused, looking upwards in pride, a smile crossing his face. "...there were such societies, but they did not survive to pass on their weakness."

A few seconds of silence passed and Andrius Kalvis was lost in his thoughts, before his gaze fell and he cleared his throat, turning back to the whiteboard.

"In any case," he said, "the answer to my question was 'Heinrich Himmler', one of the heroes we will be hearing much about this week."

He turned and looked down at Alexandria with a soft smile. "Such modesty, my dear, that you were not first to extoll you're honoured Grandfather's name. He would be proud that you are not so modest in your achievements as you are with your silence in class."

Darren sat at the back of the classroom trying hid best to stay awake. None of this really interested him. He didn't want to know about the past. The past had been decided. Anything he learned here would do him no good. At least that was the attitude he was taking. Darren felt he was wasting his time here, he could be out on the tarmac, breathing in the air stained with the smell of burning jet fuel. Not sitting in a classroom learning history from this Hitler wannabee.

Darren sometimes got the feeling that his instructors didn't want him to pass. He needed to complete a certain number of hours just to qualify for the next term. With his current schedule filled with civilian classes he was going to struggle to find enough time to get one or two flights a week at this rate. It all felt rather unfair, but what else had Darren ever known other than the feeling of being treated less than the rest.

Darren shook his head and looked around the classroom again. He noticed that Katherina had entered the room. He gave her a short nod back and an awkward smile. She was one of the best pilots in the school, if not the best. She always seemed to get one up on everyone, but this year Darren was going to try give her a run for her money. He needed to pull out everything he knew to compete with her. He knew he could do it, even if very few others did.

Alexandra found herself with a small smile on her face. To others, it would have appeared as though she were happy with the memory of her grandfather's achievements. To Klaus, however, it might have seemed much more triumphant rather than happy. In their country, she was more powerful. She was the granddaughter of Heinrich Himmler, daughter of the leader of the SS and one of the few most powerful men in the entire Reich. He couldn't even begin to think of touching her.

"Danke, Professor. I've often been told that he would be proud of me," She said, her expression and voice completely flawless in their message. She adjusted herself in her seat and flashed Klaus a challenging look.

Klaus smiled politely at Alexandra. While she may have known the truth about his great grandfather, or at least, what he was blamed for, he knew for a fact that Himmler was a glorified bureaucrat whose only contribution to history was ensuring the State ran smoothly without internal dissent along with his role in making the Final Solution a reality, a waste in military resources in his opinion.

"She takes after him, Professor," he stated diplomatically. At face value, it was a compliment, but truthfully, he had a role opinion of Himmler and the SS as a whole. They had no business interfering with the Wermacht. It was their blunders and interference that allowed Russia to remain a threat to the Reich.

Vladimir's head was beginning to throb at the class activity and was fairly certain something of a grudge might have been thrown around. That or he'd imagined lightning shoot from Alexandra's eyes when the Klaus boy began talking. The female pilot only made things worse, oh god no...another one the dreading thought quickly flickered across his mind. Something about the pilot from before and her mannerisms gave him the sinking feeling that he was looking at a more specialized version of Alexandra. Wait, could a princess even specialize...well maybe it was more of a I'm the best damn pilot here and have the pedigree to back it upfeeling. A bit more searching brought the word confidence to mind, whereas Alexandra definitely felt more spoiled. He had to keep from gripping his head and sighing, things were looking impossibly difficult already.

The fact that he had such an extended thought at "Vladimir" however was not good for the mission, he needed some time to refocus. The biggest question was how to do so when he felt like a landmine was under every step...he began missing the front line. Bullets and explosions were easy since they clearly gave you an enemy but here he was a fish out of water. He felt himself unconsciously swallow, his breathing was hastened and shallow and his hear rate elevated. But "Viktor" was not holding much longer, but "Vladimir" had finally gotten an idea...some of his artificial scars from "surgery" hadn't fully closed yet.

The tricky part was he needed one to go and look bad while not actually risking his own health. Sadly, there weren't any like that he'd be able to readily and stealthily rupture. Sweat began beading on his forehead at this point due to the only apparent option...he'd have to rupture the one on his left side that ended all to close to his liver. The issue was he didn't know how deep the cut was thus making bleeding out a possibility but fortunately today left plenty of chances for him to move "unnaturally" and explain the incident.

He moved his left hand over the stitch in question, trying to keep to motion small and avoid suspicion. When the hand felt the area under his coat,he quickly pulsed the fingers out with utmost force. He felt a series of little pops,success and a patch of moisture began forming near immediately. He clenched his hand at this point,both to act as a staunch and simulate real panic...something he didn't need to pretend at this point. This razor thin wire brought about new focus, and "Vladimir" once more became "Viktor".

"Apologies," Viktor winced with his attempt to stand a motion the was mostly leaning up to his feet while on the desk held his weight. "It would appear I-," the room suddenly spun as vertigo messed with his senses,"-I have blown a stitch." He shifted his shaking left hand to make the growing patch on his jacket more visible. Experience told him at this point that his life was in no immediate danger (the cut went deep but was very precise and avoided being serious), but he was still unofficially recovering. Ultimately, he knew his action was incredibly stupid but short of praiseworthy incompetence in the class's response he'd be well within safe limits.