No time to fool around. You launch yourself from your tent, revolver in hand. Before the German soldiers have any time to react, you fire. Your bullet slices through the warming desert air and embeds itself with a thunk into the chest of the nearest soldier.
The other two soldiers roar, raising their rifles in your direction, but they have made the mistake of turning their attention away from your companions. With the speed of an Old West gunslinger, Esme brings her own pistol out of its holster and up, and the middle soldier falls. Meanwhile, Abdul has launched himself onto the remaining Nazi. His enormous arm muscles bulge as he throttles his prey, squeezing the life out of the last of the soldiers.
After the final soldier has fallen still, Esme turns to you and waves cheerfully. "Morning," she says, as if nothing has happened at all. "What a marvelous start to the day. Three dead Nazis, and now we have a truck."
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