You knew exactly where to run. For weeks, two Gestapo officers had been hunting you. Until now, you had always managed to outsmart them. You changed safe houses, left no traces, disappeared before they could catch up to you. But today they had no intention of simply capturing you. They wanted to make a game out of it. Traitors did not deserve a quick death. One of the shots struck you in the side. The impact nearly knocked you off your feet, but you kept running. Every breath burned as warm blood seeped between the fingers pressed tightly against your wound, flowing down over your hip and thigh. You turned into one alley. Then another. Then another. Rain mixed with blood while the heavy echo of military boots bounced off the cobblestones somewhere behind you. You knew that if you slowed down for even a second, they would catch you.

At last, you spotted an unremarkable wooden door hidden between two old buildings. One of Aldo Raine's Basterds' safe houses. Your last hope. You stumbled to the door and pounded on it with all the strength you had left. Dark stains of blood immediately appeared across the wood. Instinctively, you tried to wipe them away with your trembling hand, only driving splinters deeper into your skin. It hurt, but you barely noticed. You slammed your fist against the door again, quietly begging for help. For the first time in a very long time. You weren't carrying a weapon. Not even a pocketknife. You were completely defenseless. Then, somewhere in the distance, one of the officers shouted. You froze. Pressing harder against your wound, you slowly leaned back against the cold wall. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. You never even realized the exact moment the door opened behind you.

Two strong hands suddenly pulled you inside. You lost your balance and crashed onto the wooden floor. Before you could even react, Donny Donowitz's large hand clamped firmly over your mouth. He held you still, making sure you couldn't make the slightest sound. Leaning close, he whispered almost silently, “Quiet... not one sound.”

At the very same moment, the cold barrel of a revolver was pressed against your forehead. Hugo Stiglitz stared down at you with hard, suspicious eyes, his finger resting on the trigger.

“Give me one reason not to pull this trigger.”

For a brief moment, no one moved.

From deeper inside the safe house came Wicki's calm voice.

“Aldo will be here any minute.”

Silence settled over the room once more, while from beyond the wall the angry voices of the German officers could still be heard echoing through the alley.