I woke the next morning to dark sky. The sun hadn't came out today and I could hear the rain hitting the cobbles outside as the wind rocked the house. "We won't get the letter today." Marco told me, "The weathers too bad."
I scowled, wanting to leave but knowing that it would be suicide to be caught out in this storm. I was prepared to go back to sleep, days like this were a waste of time but there was a knock on the door. Surprised, I glanced at Marco as he opened it and pulled someone in, a young boy soaking wet and shivering to the core. He had a sodden letter in his grasp and he handed it to Marco, his finger tips were blue.
"Y-y-your post-t." The boy managed, rain drops dripping off his nose. Marco thanked the boy and I said, "Here, have this." I tossed the boy my cloak, concealing the severed head behind me. The boy caught the cloak and then dropped it; his hands were shaking with cold. He stuttered a thank you and then was gone back into the raging storm. I sat up as Marco ripped the letter open and read it. I watched as he read it, his eyes darting from line to line. His worried look become more increased and frantic as he continued. It seemed to take forever, but he finally lowered the letter and turned to me his face pale.
"What." I asked, worried, "What does it say."
Marco cleared his throat, "He says he sent the two greatest assassins he could find because he needs one for his following mission."
"That's unfair." I grumbled thinking about how Marco had made the kill.
Marco shook his head, "You don't understand, August."
"You're right, I don't." I snapped folding my arms, "Whats the worst?"
"Only one of us can come back." Marco said, "Only one of us can go back alive."