Mark was asleep on his stomach. I prodded his side with my foot. It was eight o'clock in the morning, and I was itching to go. "Mark, wake up."

Mark eventually rolled over, rubbing his face and squinting at me. "What is it?"

"Up you get. Come on. We need to get going."

"'We'?"

"Yes, 'we', kemosabe." I stopped prodding and started to head out the door. "Now get some clothes on."

Walking across the hall, I pulled the knife crate back out from under the bed. I grabbed a throwing knife and went to the living room. I replaced the switch in the pocket of the jacket and put the throwing knife in the third ring. Then I sat and waited.

A few moments later, Mark came out of Sean's room, still sleepy. "What's going on?"

"There's been a change of plans," I explained calmly. "Sean isn't waking up, and Anti has been cut off from the body. Meaning I can't just break in and bust Sean out. I have to carry him, and I can't carry someone and fight at the same time. Hell, I don't even think I can carry a grown man. I'm not that strong. So I need you."

He gave me a confused look. "But I can't fight."

"I will fight our way in and out. I just need you to run in with me and carry Sean out."

"You said it was crawling with guards."

"Well, since he can't fight when he's not in the body, Anti will be a distraction instead. He will lure most if not all of the guards away."

"Okay, so when do we leave?"

"Now." I stood up and zipped up my jacket.

"What about breakfast?"

"We'll be back in an hour. You can eat then." I grabbed two apples and tossed one to him. "To keep your stomach from growling while we're hiding."

"Do I get a knife?"

"I don't trust you with one. You'll just skewer yourself."

"Well, then." Mark followed me out the door.

After a ten minute walk, we stood on one side of the hill where I said I would meet Anti. Anti was walking down towards us. "Ready?" He asked.

"Yup," I replied. Anti nodded and started running.

Mark and I walked casually up the hill. "Don't look at the church," I said.

"Why not?"

"We don't want to look like we're doing anything. If we just glance at it, the guard will leave us alone."

We stood calmly, waiting. "Is there something we're waiting for?" Mark asked.

"A signal."

"Anti?"

"Nope. The guards."

"What?"

"Well, we'll know when they start running the other way that they're distracted."

So we watched. Three guards were in sight, keeping an eye out. One was fresh, younger than the others. He looked around with that I'm-gonna-do-this-right-dammit look common to guards on their first day. The others had more experience standing around. They looked much more bored, and one was keeping an eye on the young one more than he was looking for intruders.

Then, suddenly, one of the older ones whipped his head around to look at the building. There was shouting on the other side. The young one started to go towards it, but one of the older ones stopped him and started after it himself, leaving two guards who kept looking back. I took the chance. Grabbing Mark's sleeve, I pushed him down the other side of the hill, out of sight, and charged toward the church.

I was on the younger one before he had time to react. Grabbing the gun in his hand, I whipped my arm around his neck and held him in a headlock, throwing the gun far away. The older guard whirled to see me holding my standard knife to his companion's throat. He brought up his gun, but I could see his hesitation.

"Don't waste your bullets," I called to him from behind the young man. "There's no point in shooting your friend."

"Why not?" The man shouted, starting to aim.

"Because a dead body catches bullets too," I pointed out. "Whether this man is dead or not, you'll never get me to drop him. He'll still be my meat shield. Don't waste your bullets, and don't waste his life."

The man stayed where he was for a few moments. "What do I do, then?" He asked, imploringly.

"Put down the gun," I said. "I won't hurt either of you if I don't have to. But my friend is in there, and I'm here to get him out."

The man wasn't too happy. He kept the gun up until I warned him again and gently pressed the blade to the young one's neck, drawing a small amount of blood. Then he put the gun on the ground and stepped back.

I lowered my knife and walked forward, not releasing my hostage until my foot was planted on the gun. Then I pushed him to the guard and yelled for Mark. Mark ran past me and into the building, giving me a frightened look as he passed. I ran after him, grabbing the gun as I went to buy us time. Eventually, the young one would find his, but for now, we were safe.

When we reached the door, it was unlocked. We ran in, and found ourselves in a large room. A table sat in the middle, with names, pictures, and information on various people. Sean was right on top. The door to his room was on the right, locked. Mark walked up to it and kicked it.

The door stayed firm. I rolled my eyes. "Don't kick the middle of the door!" I yelled. "Kick it near the lock!" Mark tried a couple more times, and succeeded in kicking the door in.

The room actually didn't look half bad. There was another door that led to a bathroom. A dresser stood in one corner, a desk in another. A decent TV sat on a cabinet against one wall. A bookshelf filled with books sat against the opposite wall. Sean himself was sprawled on a bed under the one window, which was surprisingly far up on the wall.

"Jack!" Mark said, dashing over.

"Come on, Mark, grab him and let's go."

Mark flung Sean over his shoulder and came back to me, still panting from the run in. I was barely breathing hard. Yay, French horn lungs, I thought, as I led the way back to the door.

As we reached the open door, a gun fired at us. I hissed and pulled Mark to the side, out of sight. One of the bullets had grazed my arm, but barely. I pulled out my throwing knife, ready to kill one or the other. Preferably the older one. The younger one would lose his composure.

But death wasn't necessary. I only had to hit his arm. If he dropped the gun, and the other panicked, we could make it. I peered around the door and threw the knife.

My aim was true. The knife hit the older guard in the arm, piercing the muscle. Painful, but definitely not fatal. The man cried out, and the other called his name. I ran out, yelling for Mark to follow. I pulled the beautiful long-ass knife from my jacket as I charged the man, who was starting to freak out. Mark ran behind me, with Sean on his shoulder.

I reached the man as he was still trying to threaten me and slammed into him at full force. He fell backwards, and I landed on top of him. I slammed the hilt of my knife into his temple, knocking him out. CLambering off of him, I kicked the older one's gun away from him and followed Mark, who'd gotten ahead during the brief struggle. I heard more gunfire just as we passed the hill.

We got back to the apartment about half an hour after we left, mostly because we paused to catch our breaths once we were out of sight and had to take alleys to avoid Mark being seen with an unconscious man on his back. When we did get back, I felt something.

Emily. She was waking up.

I hurried to our room and stashed my knives away as fast as I could, but I could feel Emily thrash. She was half awake, groggy and terrified. She could feel the adrenaline still going through me, and it was freaking her out. Mark was across the hall, putting Sean to sleep in his own bed, so he couldn't hear me starting to fumble with my knives. Emily didn't know about the crate and I wanted to keep it that way.

I finally got the crate under the bed as the world faded to black.

Asleep, at last.