A/N: I forgot all of this stuff in the first chapter, I was in such a rush to post it after I finished! Let's see... I wrote the first chapter based off a post I was composing for a roleplay. The post ended up a couple pages long, but it only actually appears in Chapter Two. (All of the content up to the first break.) This fiction is M for the violence, which is not my usual thing. I don't even read horror, but I decided to try my hand at writing it. I'd love any and all feedback, since the rating limits the amount of people who will end up reading this. That makes it particularly important... PLEASE leave a review. Thanks!

Lani Lenore: Thank you very much, I'm glad you're enjoying it! (Thanks for the review!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing. Hellsing is (c) Kohta Hirano.

"Any questions?"

The office remained silent, neither of the two addressed holding any doubts about their mission plan. It was clear: infiltrate, destroy, and walk out as plain as day. No idiot could mess that up. Well, as far as Enrico Maxwell was concerned, this pair couldn't. They were killing machines… most of the time.

Yumiko sat in her chair, eyes wide, wringing her hands. Not again. I told them never again. Why does this keep happening? Foggy dreams of steel dripping red came back to haunt her… she wanted no more guilt. Nobody should have to die at Yumie's hands. It was too cruel.

"Good. Your car will be here in ten minutes or so. Show those monsters the mercy of Death himself." He walked out, chuckling. 'The mercy of Death' was a little "private joke" between the members of Section XIII, because Death has no mercy; neither do they. Yumiko was too absorbed in her own fears to see Maxwell go, and Heinkel remained leaning against the wall, arms crossed, sunglasses sliding down her nose.

They remained in silence for a moment, and then Yumiko couldn't stand it. "What'll I do, Heinkel? I... I don't want to kill anyone anymore." she sunk down a little farther in her stiff wooden chair, ovals of tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "I don't care WHAT they did, nobody deserves that kind of punishment." She put her face in her hands, and shuddered. "I don't want anymore nightmares." She quietly began to sob, hands unconsciously smashing her glasses farther into her face.

Silently, Heinkel took three steps to the distressed young woman. With the creak and sigh of leather and the rustling of cloth, she crouched down in front of the nun, and reached out with a callused hand. Yumiko dropped her own two hands at the other's touch. Heinkel tipped the nun's chin so they were eye to eye. "Vat's your name?" Yumiko searched her friend's face in confusion. "I said, vat's your name?"

"T-Tagaki Y-Yumiko...er... I mean, Yumiko Tagaki?" The lapse only served to worsen her mood. She had left her old culture behind; only Yumie clung to their heritage. Am I forgetting who I am?

"Da. Not Yumie. That's her name. You are two very different people. Yumie slays heretics, her God-given duty. Yumiko doesn't kill, Yumie does." Yumiko nodded, finally understanding. "Jetzt entspannen Sie sich." The German was beyond the other woman, but she smiled weakly and carefully removed her glasses to wipe her eyes. The familiar feeling of helplessness washed over her, and she tried to keep it at bay. As long as no one tried to hurt her while they were off, she'd be fine.

Heinkel rocked back onto her heels; relieved the girl wasn't going to cry. No, that wasn't fair; the girl was in fact a woman. A haunted one at that. She remained crouched in front of her friend as the nun dried her tears, then they both hung in the comfortable silence of the plain office. Heinkel let it go as long as she possibly could, then abruptly stood up. "It's time. We haf to go. Yumie und I haf a job to do."

Yumiko nodded and stood up, following after the assassin like a ghost.

Heinkel's boots crunched over the brightly colored leaves that littered the ground. She could faintly pick up the sound of Yumiko's simple shoes as the young woman followed. The nun had been silent for almost the entire trip, only the occasional subdued "Thank you," when someone opened a door for her.

The assassin judged the distance to their target, then abruptly stopped in her tracks. This was as far as she could safely bring Yumiko. She felt a painful pang of regret as the young nun almost crashed into her from behind. Poor frau. Heinkel reached into her long grey coat, brushing her hand over the leather holsters that crisscrossed her black priest's clothing. Her hand came to rest on a very special belt, and she flicked open the catch. From behind her came Yumiko's nervous voice, "H-Heinkel?"

"This ist as far as you can come." The tall blonde pulled Yumie's ebony-sheathed sword from the black depths of her coat, long red cords dragging on the leaves underfoot. Yumiko swallowed hard, and Heinkel heard the snapping of brittle sticks and leaves as she took a step back. "Take off your glasses, Yumiko." The nun reached up with shaking fingers and slipped the lenses from her face, then folded the earpieces and placed them in Heinkel's outstretched palm. The assassin gently tucked them away in an inner pocket, grey eyes impassive behind her own dark glasses. " Ready?"

"Y-Yes"

Fast as lightning, Heinkel whirled around, striking Yumiko across the face with the fist that still clutched the woman's sword. The nun hit the ground, hard, sending up a swirl of fiery leaves. The katana landed next to her with a soft thud.

"Gute Nacht."

Yumie groaned as her world faded into focus. Above her spread a murky grey sky, bordered by trees with tangerine and crimson foliage. She rolled onto her side, and brought a hand up to gingerly inspect her throbbing jaw. She hissed at the painful contact, then used her other elbow to prop herself up. Her eyes flicked to the sword by her side, and the hand prodding her jaw darted out to fasten onto the hilt instead. One thing was for sure; she wasn't in Rome. Her services were rarely required in Italy.

Her eyes searched the road that stretched away, off into the distance. A dark figure was walking down it at a brisk pace, heading away from her. Heinkel. The berserker leapt to her feet and jogged to catch up, then easily fell in step with her partner. "Do you have to hit so hard?"

The German woman only shrugged.

Yumie sighed, then opened her mouth. However, Heinkel was far ahead of her. "Today's date ist the 24th of September, 1998." The dark haired woman groaned.

"How long…?"

"Three veeks."

"Really?"

"Da. In any case, we are in France. Down this road lies a complex, where eine gruppe of fanatics who vish to summon the Devil are preparing eine ceremony. They intend to sacrifice catholic virgins to Satan in order to coax him to rise. Apparently the Jewish and Christian vomen did not do the trick." Yumie shrugged. They deserved it. The faint whisper of wind brushed the pair's hair, the chill lost on them. Heinkel was wearing layers, and no amount of cold could deter the berserker.

"So what is our job?" Yumie slung the blade over her shoulder, right hand resting lazily on the hilt. The crimson cords danced in the breeze, hitting against her leg. The partners walked as they spoke, trudging to a beat marked by the timely crackling of dead leaves.

"We secure the vomen, and silence the Satanists." Heinkel reached into a coat, drawing a revolver from its holster. Some fiddling produced a handful of rounds, and she popped the chamber to load it. The bullets slid into their respective holes, one by one. Heinkel continued on in silence, head bent over her task.

Yumie tightened her grip on her weapon, and then drew it with the hiss of steel. She held it up to the light, inspecting it for any damage that may have occurred during her sleep. The weapon was flawless, made of the finest steel… her fear was illogical. It glinted in the light, throwing a reflection onto the multicolored ground. Lovingly, she ran her palm over the flat of the blade, letting the chill of the cold metal envelop her soul. The fire of redemption must stay dim until the proper time.

The assassin beside her clicked the revolver back together, and it vanished inside her long coat. Next to emerge was the German woman's favorite: her pair of semi-automatic pistols. She angled both guns away from her, enabling her to see right through the chambers of the empty weapons. Once she was assured they were empty, she transferred both to one hand, and produced two full clips. She slammed both into their respective magazines with well-oiled smoothness, and pushed the locks in with the palm of her hand. Her thumb and forefinger cocked one and then the other.

The wooden walls of the compound faded into view, and both increased their speed. Yumie didn't bother to ask if the blasphemers were armed; it did not matter. She would send them to Hell all the same. Heinkel jogged to keep up with the berserker's frenzied pace, and both broke into the clearing simultaneously.

They were met by a tall wooden wall.

"Damn!"

Both scuffled to a stop and stared up at the primitive obstacle. Maybe twenty feet in height, the wooden barrier seemed to surround the complex. It was comprised of sturdy logs, lashed together to eliminate any gaps or footholds. Heinkel inspected the barrier without a word, and was only roused from her observation by the faint clang of metal. She sighed, and addressed her friend. "Halt." Yumie did so, and turned to look quizzically at Heinkel over her shoulder. "There's no vay you're going to be able to slice through that much vood."

"How else do you propose we get inside?" Yumie let the tip of the blade hover over the dust that still was settling from their hurried stop.

"We find ein gate." Heinkel moved closer to the wall, until she had to look straight up to see the top. It's not too far. Ve'll make it. She knew exactly what Yumie's reply to her solution would be; in fact, she was counting on it.

"I don't have time for this." Yumie took a step back, and then another. Heinkel watched impassively as she launched herself at the log barrier, leaping halfway up its height. The sword thudded into the wood, and Yumie flipped around the handle once, then used her momentum to propel herself over the top. A yank on the cord that was still in her hand caused the blade to follow, and both woman and weapon disappeared from view.

Heinkel only had a few moments to wait before the berserker's head poked over the top, and sighed down at her. "Gah. One second." Some scuffling, and then the katana sailed over the sharpened wooden crown, the strings clutched in Yumie's fingers causing it to arc with surprising force back into the outer face of the wall. Heinkel dashed towards the barrier, running up a couple feet and grabbing on to the makeshift handhold. From there she could reach Yumie's outstretched hand, and the berserker pulled her over the top of the sharpened wooden stakes.

"Here." Heinkel handed the katana back to Yumie, and quickly inspected their new surroundings. She knew the dark-haired woman couldn't contain herself for much longer, and time was of the essence. They stood on a hastily constructed walkway, nearly fifteen feet off the ground. The complex itself was bare, wooden-walled buildings devoid of any personality. Dusty and rocky, the ground seemed determined to complete the dank picture. "No guards…" Maybe the ceremony hast already begun? The assassin frowned, suspicious, and raised her guns to chest level. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Yumie starting to shake. Not yet!

"Where are those foul dogs?" She did not bother sheathing her sword, but simply walked off the edge of the walkway with the naked blade. Heinkel followed, bending her knees to absorb the impact. Pain was slowly losing its hold on Yumie, a sure sign that she in turn was losing any grip she may have ever had. Yumiko got all the sanity…

The berserker stalked down the row of buildings, the light of righteousness burning in her eyes. Heinkel shrugged and swept after her, willing to do it Yumie's way. Ve go in big then. The place was as empty as an American ghost town, which only seemed to infuriate her partner more. "Where ARE they, the SLIME?" They heard the chanting first, heresy spilling from lips to a haunting rhythm. Then came the hooded figures, winding out of a door in a long line. They trudged slowly, every movement in time to their satanic words. Unnoticed, the section XII agents froze, outraged and disgusted, both being fairly fluent in Latin.

Rise up from your Prison and claim your Kingdom, great Lord of Destruction!

"CEASE, BLASPHEMOUS MONGRELS!"

Yumie's cry tore through the melody, and the black-cloaked men and women turned their faces towards the interruption. Heinkel calmly stepped forward, scorn breathing life into her speech. "You are pathetic pieces of vorthless scum, delusional and impure. God will haf no mercy on you, and neither vill the Vatican." She raised both guns and smiled lazily.

"Now be gute sinners und die quietly." She squeezed the triggers, and two hooded figures' heads exploded in a shower of crimson. The line broke, some running for their lives, others dashing to engage the enemy.

A blur zipped past her, throwing itself upon the dark figures. Silver trails laced Heinkel's vision, and crimson splattered across the ground, droplets forming lacy patterns on the black leather of her boots. The form was rudely smeared as the assassin dashed off, knowing Yumie could handle the bulk of the heretics. It was her own job to finish off the stragglers, and locate the prisoners.

The time had finally come.

The sinners screamed and cried, attempting to flee from impending justice. There was no time to run; there was no time to even react. She was too fast for them, flitting through the crowd like Death himself, littering the ground with the fallen. The blade moved like lightning, and the air sung from its passing. They were one in that moment, hot steel and cold flesh.

A man collapsed on the ground, hands trying to stem the violent fountain of red that had sprouted from his chest. Another stood still in shock, then watched his torso slide off his legs, showering the dry earth with crimson life. A wild-eyed woman threw herself at the berserker, and she erupted in an explosion of viscera, showering her comrades with innards. Yumie whirled and leapt, the star in a ballet of retribution. Each jump ended in a splash of scarlet, the ground covered in the blood of God's enemies.

In and out, around and through, the katana spiraled and twisted, regardless of age or gender. They all had done wrong, and must be punished. No mercy. The last, begging mongrel met his swift end with a whirl of her shoulders, and suddenly all was quiet. The Berserker froze, dark hair swishing to a stop. Yumie looked down, and smiled pleasantly at her crimson dress, such an improvement from the usual blue. Her sword too had dressed to match, all traces of silver gone, and the long cords dripping and heavy.

No longer was the wood plain, as well. Bright splashes soaked into the untreated lumber, darkening the walls to a deep cherry. Here and there a corpse marred the color, breaking the uniform paint. Yumie took a wet step forward, and narrowly missed placing her foot on a discarded arm. It's owner lay nearby, weeping as her pathetic life drained away. The woman's killer drifted over, blocking out the grey sky with her jeering face.

"What's wrong heretic? Something pains you?"

The weeping continued, what was left of her wracking with sobs. Yumie grinned, and slowly brought the blade around to hover over the prone Satanist's heaving chest. The woman still managed to scream in terror, and Yumie laughed from the sheer joy of it all.

"Now, go and see the devil you love so much."

The woman only had time to draw breath before the ruby end was upon her.

Heinkel's heart raced as she thundered around the corner, gaining on the escaping target. He darted around one building and then another, hoping to lose her, but only in vain. She skidded into the clear space between the circle of buildings and the wall, eyes darting around behind her sunglasses to find the robed figure. She found him without much effort. He had scrambled halfway up the wall, the wild look of a trapped animal in his eyes. His fingers bled from scrabbling at the surface.

The semi-autos entered her field of vision as she aimed, and the weapons flared twice. He fell screaming to the hard ground, writhing in pain and panic. She jogged over, and planted a shot in his head without hesitation. "Wit loff from the Vatican."

He lay still, and she sped off to catch a fleeting vision she'd seen out of the corner of her eye. It led her on a merry chase, until the fleet-footed assassin overtook the cloaked and hooded figure. Heinkel slammed him into a wall, holding him in place with a firm grip on his collar. This forced her to temporarily drop a gun, but this wouldn't take long. He trembled in fear.

"Do you understand English?"

A shaky nod.

"Do you speak it?"

A jerking shake of his head.

"Gute enough. Where are the vomen?"

He stared at her in terror, and she shook him a bit.

"WHERE are the Catholic vomen? Tell me and I vill show you mercy."

He blinked, and opened his mouth. "Dans le bâtiment A23." The reply caused her to shuffle through her limited knowledge of French, and she drew a blank. It was all right. Plain guesswork could deduce what he meant. She impassively brought her arm up and around, pressing her remaining gun into his forehead. He shrieked, and wiggled in her grasp, breaking into a sweat. "Vous avez dit que vous me montreriez la pitié!" Heinkel could only guess at his meaning, but any killer recognized that tone. "Why!"

She shrugged impassively, and tensed her finger on the trigger. "No true believer vould deal wit blasphemers, you pathetic little dummkopf. Auf Wiedersehen." She turned her face as not to dirty her lenses, and pulled the trigger. Warmth spilled over her neck and cheek, soaking into the priest's collar she wore. The corpse limply slid to the floor, smearing the rough wood. Heinkel picked up her gun, and her eyes flicked over the number painted over the door. A17. Still a vays. She jogged down the row, carefully checking each number as she passed.

A19, A21, A23! Heinkel inspected the door, shrugged, and slammed into it with a foot. It took three tries before the door gave enough to be ready to break. She backed up, and then charged forward, ramming her shoulder into the splintered surface. It exploded inward, and the momentum forced Heinkel into a roll. A faint stab of pain in her shoulder briefly caught her attention, but it disappeared under the influence of battle. She came up on one knee, guns blazing. The guards had little time to move before the shots erupted in their chests, sending both to the floor with a cry.

Three young women were clutching each other in the corner, hanging on for dear life. Heinkel trudged over to them, absently kicking a body out of the way. "It's alright. You're safe now." One of the three looked up, and wept in gratitude.

"Thank you! Oh, we knew God would not abandon us!"

The second joined in, but the third girl stared at Heinkel in horror. "Y-Your arm!" The other two looked up as well, and one shrieked, while the other looked sick. Heinkel turned her head to inspect her shoulder, and nearly brushed her nose on a huge shard of wood protruding from her shoulder. The pain hit her in a staggering wave as the adrenaline wore off, and she nearly stumbled to the floor. Her hand flew to the wound, probing. She winced, and gritted her teeth. It's bad. Very bad.

She blinked, and suddenly she was on the ground, and three young heads stared worriedly down at her. Slowly, Heinkel shoved herself into a sitting position, and fastened her hand around the jagged stake. At the first tug it became evident that removing it would be dangerous.

"Es verletzt wie der Teufel!" The three girls looked at each other in confusion. Heinkel stood up, and gestured painfully to the ex-captives. "It vill be fine. Hand me mine veapons und follow." One of them did so, and Heinkel tucked the empty guns into their holsters. No way she could reload at the moment. She drew the revolver with her left, and walked out of the room and into the afternoon sun at a brisk pace. Those three must keep hope.


Yumie unceremoniously tugged the katana from the woman's shredded chest. Her task was done. The cleansing word of God had been delivered.

She cracked her back, and scanned the bodies for life. Nothing. The dry, barren earth was in fact no longer dry, but covered with a slick layer of reddish mud. Her footing was unstable, so she took special care with each step, and worked her way to the edge of the massacre. She located a clean piece of black material on a fallen foe, and slowly wiped away the flaking burgundy from her weapon, restoring it to its natural blue-silver sheen. She slipped it back into its sheath, and smiled at the hiss of metal on metal.

Yumie leaned against a red wall, in-between two terror-stricken corpses. This elicited a chuckle from her, and then she closed her eyes. Area secure. Waves of ease and cat-like satisfaction washed over her. Oh yes, I am most definitely the cat that caught the mou-, er, mice. She breathed deeply, the tension slipping from her shoulders. Now all there was to do was wait for Heinkel.

-Is it over?- Yumiko's groggy voice whispered from the back of her consciousness.

Yes. For now. Yumie grinned, relishing Yumiko's uncertain voice. Yes, Yumiko… my bane, my love, and myself. She would do anything to protect her other half. But, then again, they never saw eye-to-eye. Personally, she felt Yumiko was useless, a fragile being who could not handle any stress, and unfit for defending their God in battle. Yumiko seemed to think of her as a monster, a creature that only killed in blind rages. What a terrible misconception.

Her rages were anything but blind.

The blood-soaked stupor slowly settled over her, gently turning the edges of her vision black. Yumie sighed, content. She'd only slept four times in her life; twice as a child, once as a teenager, and once as an adult. Maybe she should make that two as an adult. The few times she'd been allowed to do it had been wonderful. Only a second. There's nothing to worry about… it's safe, and Yumiko's glasses are with Heinkel. Yum…i…ko…

She tried to open her eyes, but the darkness suddenly surrounded her. This was not the grey softness of sleep, but a deeper, suffocating chasm. This was just like… Impossible! The glasses! I don't have them on!

-What's… what's going on?- Yumiko's voice questioned, sleepily.

I don't know! Fight it, Yumiko! STAY INSIDE! I DON'T WANT YOU TO SEE THIS! Her mental cry was desperate, but she could not seem to move her lips, or any other part of herself, for that matter. Was this possible? Was she… going back to sleep?

YUMIKO!

-Yumie? What is it? Is it time to wake up? –

Slowly, the red-clad figure blinked, opening beautiful brown eyes that had somehow become wider, less severe. Inside the recesses of her mind, another voice screamed for her to close her eyes, to run away.

-NO! DON'T LOOK! -

But it was far too late for that.

Each step was fire.

The sweat stood out on Heinkel's forehead, and it took everything she had to keep going. I've got to reach Yumie. The slaughter ought to be over… I need her to get us back to the helicopter. One foot in front of the other. The three girls trailed behind, still nervous and jumpy. They'd encountered no resistance, a blessing from God.

In what felt like hours, they finally reached the first splatter of blood. The girls gasped, and Heinkel growled for them to stay behind, and to waait until she came for them. They did not need to see this. She was the one who served her God, and was paid to have nightmares.

So it was alone that she painfully trudged into the clearing, and came upon a sight that would haunt her nights for years afterward.

Initially, it was too much for her overworked brain to comprehend. Dazedly, she wondered why Yumie had decided to play with fingerpaints, because she'd gone and gotten red all over the walls, the ground, and the lumps. Lumps? Oh, Mein Gott. The "lumps" were fragments of men and women, strewn across the clearing. Severed faces stared up at her with expressions of utter terror, heretical eyes glazed over with the film of death. Heinkel looked down, and noted with detached interest that there was a shoe lying next to her, and the late owner had neglected to remove his foot from the leather.

She also discovered that she was very close to being sick.

Now normally, this would have had little effect on her, but the shoulder wound was starting to make her faint, and quite dizzy. I'm losing lots oft blood. The dazzling burgundy coating seemed to cover the world, and briefly Heinkel wondered if it was the destruction, or if her vision was turning crimson. It took some squinting before she could pick out Yumie. The berserker seemed to be leaning against a wall, eyes closed, breathing steady. The assassin began to make her way across the slaughter to her partner, carefully avoiding innards here, a stained cloth there.

Heinkel made it about halfway when Yumie opened her eyes. The berserker looked around in confusion, and then a look of petrified horror claimed her face. The sheathed katana slid from her limp fingers, and clattered to the ground. Yumie began to tremble, then looked down at her own bloody hands.

Then Yumie screamed. A high, piercing shriek.

Heinkel picked up her pace, then froze when she realized what was happening. That isn't Yumie. She felt the color drain from her face, and she staggered back, nearly trodding on a butchered corpse. No… it can't be! The glasses were a comforting weight in her pocket, the key to the change. Not anymore. Gute Gott. The assassin froze, mind in turmoil, body suspended.

Yumiko's head whipped to the side, only to see the body leaning against the wall. She screamed again, and backpedaled, only to lose her balance and fall into the ruby lap of the corpse behind her. She thrashed and writhed, screeching at the top of her lungs, trying to free herself from invisible hands. Heinkel launched forward, falling to her knees in front of the hysterical nun. "Yumiko! Stop, Yumiko!" She reached out and grabbed the woman's wrists, pulling her off the dead man. The nun sobbed, trembling and speaking a mile-a-minute in a panicked, high-pitched voice. "Yumiko! Listen to me! You haf to calm down und come vith me!"

"Heinkel!" Yumiko threw herself on her friend, the only rock in her sea of terror. She clutched the woman tightly, sobbing into her bloody shirt. "Heinkel-Heinkel-Heinkel-…" The assassin grimaced at the eruption of pain and wooziness from her grip and the rapid movements. Fainting was starting to become an unwelcome possibility. They had to get out of here before she collapsed. First, she carefully collected Yumie's katana in her bad hand. Then Heinkel hooked her good arm under Yumiko's hold on her waist, gaining her own grasp upon the woman. She staggered to her feet, dragging the nun with her.

"Yumiko, listen carefully. I'm going to take you avay. Close your eyes, und DO NOT LOOK." Yumiko nodded without removing her face from Heinkel's shirtfront, and they began their journey back to the girls. The going was slow, Heinkel taking extra care to find a clear path for both her and Yumiko to follow. Occasionally they had to pause so Heinkel could stop her world from spinning, but then the terrified nun would whimper, and they would continue on.

In what seemed like an eternity, they left the massacre behind.

The girls gasped upon seeing them, gathering around like buzzards.

"She's covered in… blood!"

"Oh, my Lord!"

"Is she hurt?"

"Nein." Heinkel ducked her head, and whispered to Yumiko, who had gone limp in her arms. "Come on, freund, you need to valk. Yumiko?" The nun had fainted, traumatized. There was only one thing for it. God, give me strength. Heinkel let the blade drop to the ground. "You, pick that up." The indicated girl did so, nervously clutching it to her chest. It slowly stained her virginal white dress cherry.

Heinkel knelt down, and let Yumiko slip into a prone position. She slid her bad arm under the woman's legs, and the other snaked around the nun's back. Heinkel lurched back up, putting as much weight as she could on her left arm, sparing her right. Still, the limb felt like it might leave its socket. She grunted in exertion and strain, blinking sweat out of her eyes. It would take a miracle to make this work. I vill MAKE it vork.

Jack Grenning sat back in his pilot's chair, absently puffing on a cigarette. The headphones were on his head, but the radio was silent. No passing aircraft had noticed anything out of the ordinary. Thank goodness. He put his feet up, careful not to accidentally flip a switch or push a button. Maybe he could catch a nap.

The figures in the distance immediately nullified that option.

There were five. Three were walking, each one clad in brilliant white. Another stumbled along in front of them, holding the fifth. He didn't recognize the three in white, but assumed them to be the hostages. The tall blonde was Heinkel, and she was carrying that sweet nun. Both were drenched in red.

He managed to tangle himself in cords in his struggle to spring out of the helicopter, and hopped around desperately on one foot in order to free himself. After banging his head three times, he managed to half leap, half fall onto the leafy ground, just in time to see the tall blonde figure collapse. The three girls in white cried out, falling to their knees to attend to the pair. Jack set off at a fast jog, toting the medical kit. I hope I'm not too late!

The legs of a man in jeans and cowboy boots were the last things Heinkel saw before she gave way to exhaustion. Safe. Thank Gott.