Jack shot a glance at Angus before pulling out another handgun from his boot and tossing it in his direction.

  Angus snatched it out of the air and immediately tossed it back into Jack’s hand. “I don’t need it, already got something suitable enough.” He twirled the kitchen knife and tightened his grip.

  At that, Jack nodded, took a few steps and punted the tear gas canister right back out of the window, like an elite soccer player.

  BANG!

  The front door opened, unveiling a line of paramilitary dressed assailants, covered from head to toe, wearing helmets with panels that covered their eyes, gas masks, and dark blue fatigues, while they marched in with handguns primed.

  Jack instantly kicked out a leg of the first assailant and pushed him in the direction of Angus, who quickly levied a flurry of deep cuts in weak points, like a hypnotic dance of violence, before slitting the throat of his enemy and tossing him back to the crowd to drain out.

  Utilizing both handguns, Jack fired indiscriminately at the logjam, before they toppled back over, giving view to ten other assailants outside, now brandishing assault rifles.

  Jack quickly slammed the door.

  “Now whadda' we do?!” I yelled.

  Jack pounced on top of me, as Angus hit the deck. “Duck!”

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  An endless onslaught of bullets pilfered through the cottage, shattering frames, splaying couch foam, shattered dishes, and debris everywhere, ringing out triumphantly with each ricochet.

  Finally, it came to a stop, quiet falling back on the cottage, as we held down a moment longer.

  I looked at Jack, who winced in pain, before I felt a seeping warmth from my hand upon his back. Inspecting my fingers, I found his crimson blood plastered across them and scrambled to find the wound. “You’re hit!” I cried.

  “It’s okay,” Jack groaned, rolling over. “Just get me an Advil.”

  “Jack! Let me help you!” I chattered more frantically.

  Angus popped up from the floor and scampered to the middle of the room, yanking floorboards up without reservation.

  I looked with wide eyes as the expression of the handsomely weathered face had features that turned up with slight delight, something scarcely found in his perennially scowling jowl.

  Angus pulled up a silicon case and placed it on the floor next to him, before quickly opening it and retrieving separate pieces of metal, his hands working quickly, almost magically, as he assembled a large weapon in no time. Heaving it up with two hands, he sauntered to the door and shot me a wink.

  “Just sit tight girl, this'll be over in a moment's time.”

  “Alright ya bastards,” he yelled, “I'm comin' out!” At that, he kicked open the hole littered door and fire off what looked like tiny explosive rounds, in a staccato of bursts. The ground evaporated into smoke, fire, and dust, as the assailants were tossed about and blown carelessly to the wind. I watched through some holes in the side of the cottage wall in terrified awe, as Angus made quick work of our enemies.

  After a few moments, the battlefield looked like desolate craters spanning the surface of the moon, as I helped Jack to his feet. “We have to get you somewhere.”

  “It's nothing, really,” Jack moaned, ripping off a piece of old drapery that remained tattered by another window and wrapping it tightly around his shoulder without assistance. “We'll get to it later,” he added nonchalantly,

  “Let me help,” I said, tying the end into a tight knot, and sighing. “This is ridiculous.”

  “We don't have time,” Jack said, watching Angus walk back into the cottage, holding a dangling piece of metal from a chain tightly in his fist.

  “What's that?” I asked.

  Angus sighed and tossed it over to Jack's waiting hands.

  I looked over Jack's shoulder and inspected it. “No...” I whispered, looking at blood smeared dog tags resting in Jack's palm.

  “Soldiers...” Jack said. “American soldiers.”