Martin hummed, casually conversing with the officers in the crowd, watching where Lautiz is, as well as keeping track of where everyone else is. He tips his head back, raising a hand and listening to the sound of the music. He didn't need to be told when to act. As the music struck it's high point. And the firing began his other hand snaked under his dress jacket. The man directly to his left blinked turning to look at him. And got a face full of Martin's fist. And a second later the bayonet sword a full 23 inches long, almost a short sword really, came whistling through the air. And bit deep into the officers stomach. The tip appearing out his back even from how deep Martin had buried it. Martin North is on his feet a second later. And saws the blade out of the side of the man stomach. Viscera and blood pouring out. He very nearly cut the man in two above the waist. He ripped the blade free, ignoring the looks on the mens faces around the table he sat at. He lashed out again, the rounded tip of the blade catching another officer across the face. It's mostly superficial but it gets the man off his ass, and stumbling away. Right into the line of fire of one of the guns that are roaring.

Martin turned, and with an almost dance-like move brought the short sword up from below and cleaved a mans face in two. He turned again, and pushed the table as one of the officers grabbed for his silver plated pistol, for some reason he had kept it and it's loaded. The table ramming into the officers stomach, bending him over it. Martin heaved up and pinned the man to the table with the sword bayonet. he tugged, but the blade is stuck. He grabs the pistol from the spasming officers hand, and joins the MG42 and other guns in firing into the group, emptying the magazine of the small compact PPK pistol. Then fishing quickly in the pockets of the man he took it from for a second magazine. He throws the gun away, when he finds none and tears his short sword from the mans back with a crunch of bone as it slides free.

With a flick of the blade he spins around. He'd killed two and assisted in one. As he turns about searching for another target. His suit is flecked with blood, the short sword dripping with it. Gun fire from outside draws his attention, and as the MG42 stops roaring, he goes to check the front door leaving the rest to the others in the room. he looked outside hoping it wasn't a surprise german back up crew. Only to see Nordheim gunning down some of those who managed to escape. He lowered the blade giving it a flick even. "Okay...this was a good beginning." He used his jacket to clean the blade then tossed it into the middle of the pile of bodies. there were no insignia on it to lead back to him, he'd made sure of that a long time ago. No one would look twice at another bloody German uniform when they came through here. He slid the short sword away again, "We better get the fuck out of here. No matter hwo stealthy we think we are. This much action is going to attract attention. And if the Wehrmacht or the Gestapo don't know about it in an hour then the local contingent will soon." He pushed open the door and made his way outside, heading for their get away vehicle.