blitz·krieg
  (blĭts′krēg′)
n.
A swift, sudden military offensive, usually by combined air and mobile land forces.

Blitz. Werner first heard the word in high school history, in one of the rare moments he gave the instructor his full attention. Short for blitzkrieg, or “lightning warfare”, a military tactic used by Germany’s military forces during their offensive front at the beginning of World War Two. It was characterized by a sudden, rapid motorized attack, giving the opponent no time to react. He couldn’t think of a more fitting nickname for himself when he joined the crew. The strategy applied to the entire group, really. Most of the time, they were in and out, loaded down with cash, before the police had the chance to respond. If something held the bag-men up inside, well, even the slowest response team would make it in time. That's when Werner earned his share.

Perhaps it was fitting, then, that he was driving a car manufactured in the very same country that produced the blitzkrieg doctrine. The 2015 BMW M5 rolled down the broken streets of Chicago’s downtown, the whine of its twin turbo DOHC V8 piston engine barely audible over the roar of the big city as the manual gearbox downshifted into second. If Werner was to design a car for heists, this would be it. Unless you were a car fanatic, nothing stood out about the M5. Silver paint, executive-style body, four doors. It looked like the daily driver of a businessman; before Werner stole the car, it actually was. Hell, it looked like every other BMW on the line, another cookie-cutter German automobile. Cops would look at it and forget they ever saw it. The M5 was all about what was beneath the exterior, the powertrain, chassis, and suspension.

Werner knew it was a sin, driving the car in the slow, heavy morning traffic. He could feel through the gear lever the drivetrain yearning to be pushed to the limits, urging him to slam down the accelerator, shift into third, and scream past every daily commuter. It was moments like these where Werner found it difficult to restrain himself, but he managed. Sitting on top of 575 ponies and only pushing 30 mph for him was the equivalent of trying convince a starving man to take a handful of rice from the bag. He bravely trudged on, thankful he was at least out of the cold for now. The midwestern climate took its toll on the Las Vegas native, his body not nearly as adapted to the weather as his northern companions. The mechanic sat in the M5, heat on full blast, wrapped in a heavy black parka and a with a nasty cold. He’d done work in Chicago before, albeit in the summer, so he knew the roads of the windy city quite well, but he never felt any love for the place. Werner would give anything to be back in warm weather, even if it meant flying halfway across the world, a task he hadn’t undertaken until joining the new crew; that first flight was quite an experience. 

Werner banished thoughts of sandy beaches and empty desert roads from his mind and returned to the task at hand. Pick up the gang. Meet Angelo and the others. The congested roads finally cleared enough to allow some amount of speed, but he didn’t dare exceed the speed limit. No sense in getting the police department’s attention before a job even starts. Hell, he was already taking a risk driving the stolen car, even after swapping the plates and the VIN changed. Still, his connections didn’t reach very deep in Chicago, so he was forced to take what he could get his hands on. He finally reached his destination, Trump International Hotel & Tower, right next to the Loop. Werner wasn’t sure if anyone stayed in the monument to excess, but he knew Jim, Juan, and James agreed to meet in the area, while Charlotte, Angelo, and Mike would convene elsewhere and regroup with the rest. 

After a minute or two of searching, Werner spotted the three men and pulled to the side of the road and gave them a brief, two-fingered wave, hand still on the leather steering wheel. “Jim. Juan. James,” Werner greeted them each as they entered the car, his voice slightly hoarse. “Where to?”