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    I whisk through the crowded streets of Berlin, not squinting back. Gun shots fire from behind, but I dodge the bullets- unafraid. Peoples' screams and yells echo all around me, but I tear through the panic, searching for a place to hide.

    "Sie stehen! (Stop there!)" an authoritive voice bellows over the shrieking crowd.

    He's 16 ft. 3.497in., 81.29 degrees from my position, almost directly on my trail. Too close. Briskly, I vault onto a wooden bench, but before I can spring into the street, a bullet catapults past my hair- only centimeters from my right ear. All too soon, another fires, straight for my head. Dammit!

    Through the corner of my eye, I spot a young -terrified- boy 2ft. 2.561in. from me clutching a chocolate ice cream cone.

    No time to play games, I launch myself at the gasping child and kick the icy treat from his hands sending it flying in the direction of the bullet, and I backflip over the screaming boy unto the sidewalk, ducking once I landed. Chocolate spews everywhere, but I sprint into a busy intersection without a trace. I hurdle over honking cars, stomping mud -like mad- on their windshields.

    The paces behind me pursue too close to breathe, and another firearm shoots my way.

    I dive and duck behind a silver smart car, the bullet blasting through the windows making glass shatter everywhere around me.

    More screams and horror strike innocent bystanders. Crowds trample and run in all directions. Perfect, the best k-oss to blend in.

    Joining the stampede, I pilage away my pitch black trench coat, and in one swift movement, I pull a pink jacket off a panting, middle aged woman and slip it over my shoulders. I pretend to display horror on my face and run in circles like I am a headless chicken on fire.

    “Sie da! (You there!)” a strong voice screams over the panic.

    I pivot around, and stare into the eyes of the devil himself.

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