They had been activated. The time had come to leave everything behind, and now they were standing on the apartment balcony.

---

A gunshot had rung off the back of the master's head. Had scraped away the skin and then bounced off the steel plate. Her short hair had been mangled by the blast and impact of heavy, military grade ammunition from and M249 light machine gun. And then she'd turned around and smashed her forehead into the man that had shot her at nearly point blank range and knocked him out cold. The mercenaries may have opened fire on everyone, but they were there for her.

Before anyone knew what was happening. Before the shooting had even stopped, she was in her car drifting around the narrow walkways of the outdoor sections of the indoor-outdoor mall. And she had called out to her students. Two words. And they followed her immediately.

"It's time."

They had gone up to the apartment. Never mind the erratic and wild drive there, drifting around corners and through busy city intersections. Sara had raced up first and started ripping up papers and pouring grain alcohol on everything they needed to leave behind like a mobster pouring gasoline in a recently dead man's house. Connor was already on the balcony. Josh followed nervously.

The master had already left. Gone her own way to keep them safe and give them the time they needed. And when Connor started with his laptop, part of Josh's stomach sank. The large black rectangle that represented nearly everything his friend and roommate had accomplished in his college degree went flying into the open air. Then his phone.

Josh started to follow him. His phone first. And he felt all of his connections to his family go into the abyss. He thought of the first time he had said hello to everyone on his contacts list. Said hi to his mother and father, his sisters, his little brother. To Sara, to Connor. Every awkward first text and every unexpected final text.

Connor already had his wallet out. He was tossing business cards, flash drives, credit cards, all of it, one by one. Josh knew what that meant. Apprehension. They were his stability. He could do all his work, all his connections again. But he couldn't do that to money or to his identity. At least not the normal way. Not the way he'd already done it.

Josh took out his own wallet and something similar happened. The first credit card was easy enough. The business cards were fine. The empty business card style flash drive he'd kept in his wallet for years was easy. It was empty after all. The wallet itself he was more attached to, but even that drifted away. The only thing that hurt were the marks on his arm, aching like raw skin still. Even as he threw away his life.

Somewhere between hearing the voice of every bank teller and DMV worker saying hello to him as he threw their respective documents and identifying items into the abyss of the city below them and staring out into the city below, Connor had jumped and begun to vanished into the night. And it hurt his heart. What if it had all been a lie? His roommate had made the final decision so quietly that Josh hadn't noticed in time to react. He hadn't really even realized that he'd watched him prepare out of the corner of his vision. He'd stepped out of his shoes and then, barefoot, he'd run and jumped and plunged into the open air.

Josh froze. He knew Sara had probably already made it out a window. He could already smell smoke from the apartment behind him. They were both on their way and he still had a half full wallet in his hands. And the marks on his arm hurt. They ached. He was amazed that it was that moment that made him hesitate. After everything. It was then that he felt the fear of what it was he was losing.

He watched Connor drift away like he was in slow motion. Free falling, gliding like an extreme sports junky leaping off a cliff with a glide suite and a go pro. But there was no glide suite. Connor was descending so quickly he looked like he had grown two sets of arms from that angle and was gliding on wings made of human arms as he shifted from moving off and away more than down. But still down.

Josh flexed his arm one more time. It was a casual motion he had taken countless times before, before he had felt the ache of the marks on his skin. It had become a ritual since then, a stretch to try and relieve the pain. The pain of the marks that Sara had put there. That the master had let her put there.

He hadn't even noticed that he had tossed his whole wallet. That he'd taken off his shoes. That they were tumbling off now him. The only thing he felt was fear as his stomach plunged deep into his chest and he jumped.

And then the marks stopped hurting.