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At one point the Nazis track him down and inquire, via wine and jacked blonde ladies, where his spear is.

“What?” says Longinus, more interested in the wine. “I lost it.”

They attempt, via methods similar to those of the Inquitision, to jog his memory.

“The wine was more effective,” says Longinus.

“‘S in Masada!” he slurs later. “Defnitly Masada, less take a field trip down there.”

The covert mission into Palestine gets messed up pretty bad by the British spit-and-leather boys.

“Actually,” he muses to a blood-gasping SS kommandant, “I think it was in Libya! Man! Sorry!”