IMPRISONED
Hans knew full well that once he was on trial, he would be found guilty and sentenced for life. He co-operated as he was handcuffed, read his rights and shoved into the police van. He was then dragged out and searched, before being frog marched into one of the jail cells. The barred door slammed in his face, and Hans' eyes struggled to adjust to the poor visibility in the poorly lit room. He gagged at the stench of mould and mildew that was present. He squinted to discover that all he had was a small bench pressed against the wall, and a hard surface with a thin, threadbare blanket spread across it that apparently was supposed to work as a bed.
He sat on the bed, if it could be called that, and crossed his legs. This room reminded him unpleasantly of his time at Tante Ursula's, which made his stomach churn.
Fortunately, if everything went according to plan, he wouldn't be staying in there for very long…
*Scene change*
Hans threw his head back and laughed. Oh, it was too easy! He had already handsomely bribed two of the guards (and contrary to popular belief, Hans Gruber was a man of his word - when it suited him, that is) into letting him out. The third, a woman in her 30s, he'd simply flirted with, then knocked her out when she ended up (rather reluctantly) rejecting him.
So here he was, crouching in the shadows of Germany's most unforgiving part of town, his sharp eyes surveying the scene around him. The coast was clear. No-one would find him for ages.
So, what to do? He could, theoretically, go back to the Volksfrei and start another attack. Except, now that he'd foolishly blurted out his name, and it was forever on CCTV footage, the police would be onto him in seconds. It wouldn't be long before people figured out he'd escaped. Best to keep his whereabouts a mystery for a while, then strike when the people were least expecting it.
So, he prowled through the shadows, hoodie drawn over his face to keep most of it concealed, brown eyes scanning the area for any boys in blue, or anyone who took too much notice of him. Fortunately, he was in a rather sparsely populated area, and the few people he happened across were going about their business. Shady business as well - Hans couldn't help but smirk at the sight of a group of young men running out of an abandoned shop with suspicious bulges protruding from their oversized sweatshirts. They were probably too concerned over not getting caught to bust him themselves. However, he still turned his face away subtly and gave no sign that he saw what they were doing.
Nobody noticed the terrorist in their midst for the entire duration of the long walk to Karl's place.