[h3][center]Jakob Norheim & Silvio Colani[/center][/h3]
[hr][hr]

"I love the smell of dead Nazis in the evening."

Jakob's words flew light as a feather over the eiry silence that had fallen over the small barhouse in Ulm, quite the contrast to the scene that had unfolded itself just a few short moments earlier. If one hadn't seen or spoken with Jakob before, you would think he was a psycopath, plain and simply. But if you had had that honour, you would still think that very same thought, only that you knew why, and that he sometimes sounded like a sane person. The silence was of course disturbed by the barmaid screaming and their heavy boots exiting the barhouse, but it was still quiet. 

Too quiet. 

As they got to their escape vehicle, Jakob threw his Bren-gun onto the flatbed of the Opel and climbed up. It would have to work, and if it didn't, Jakob was sure as hell going to make it work. He reloaded the Bren-gun, tossing the empty magazine into a satchel at his side; if they could hide the fact that they weren't using German weaponry, the better. The panzerfaust neatly hidden beneath the benches was a pleasnet surprise, though at the same time not a surprise; Jakob knew that Robert had this all planned out. "Just leave that to me, Lukasz. We need you with the Spandau more than me with the Bren."

Silvio on the other hand didn't have the pleasure of getting his hands on a well-made, German AT-weapon that would revolutionize infantry-warfare for decades to come. No, as he himself thought to himself so descriptively; [i]Yeah sure, let the Italian drive the fuckin' car.
 Because ALL Italians drives a cab in New York and New Jersey...[/i] His facial expression was rather the same, though he kept quiet and instead focused on getting the car to start. It was easy enough, thanks to the key still standing in the ignition, not that he couldn't have started it without it. 

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=En8hwp4WZVs]"Hold onto your butts, bambini, we're out of here!"[/url] Silvio shouted to those on the back of the Opel as he stepped on the pedal, forcing the German transport-truck to move from its immobile state and away from the scene of utter carnage. The Opel moved down the road Robert had pointed out to him at a speed most truck-drivers probably wouldn't feel safe with, especially not during the winter. Silvio on the contrary was in a hurry; he had a train to catch. 

And as if on a well-place queue in a theatre-production of some well-written Broadway-musical, a sizeable group of German soldiers appeared in the street right in-front of the speeding Opel-Blitz. And they were armed. "Incoming, hold on!" Silvio, contrary to common sense of a motorist, only pressed the pedal further down onto the floor as the truck sped up towards the Germans. A few of them actually stood their ground and opened fire, but most were smarter than that. In a split second, the Opel-Blitz rammed straight into the two Germans brave enough to face down a speeding truck - a really bad idea. The impact of bones and flesh getting mashed into the metal front-grill of the car sent shivers down the spine of lesser men, but Silvio kept on driving. The remaining Germans watched in horror as their comrades got run over by a truck, and promptly fired back at them. 

"Jaywalkers. Fucking hate them."