Don't make a sound, you idiot. He thinks to himself. Even his thoughts were in a hushed tone. Duffel bags and duffel bags of stolen money shouldn't be too hard to find. The real problem is trying not to set off the alarm. They know his face; it's not like he hasn't encountered them before. Last time he had to steal something back, he'd barely escaped with his life. They're well trained, but he's better, at least that's what the agency tells him. He thinks they say that just to boost his spirits, to make him "believe in himself," or something cheesy like that.

After what seemed like hours of tiptoeing past rooms and rooms, down mile long hallways, he found the door. It was wide open. How stupid could they be? He cautiously slides in and grabs as many bags as he can hold. The second he touches the biggest, two of the guys jump on him.

"Excuse me, can you please get off?" he asks them jokingly.

"No," replies one of their gruff voices as they try to pound him in the head.

"What are you trying to do? Knock me out?" he moves his head a bit to miss each blow one after the other, his hair gliding across his face with every motion.

"Shut up," the beast of a man grunts through gritted teeth.

"Well, it isn't going to work," he head-butts one of them making him lose his grip, and punches the other to startle him. The alarm starts buzzing like crazy as he makes a run for the door to outside with all of the duffel bags. The door, not opening or breaking down, was obviously not the smartest way to escape, so unfortunately the window would have to do. Sure he could fight fine, but jumping out of windows is not safe, and he knew it. He just kept telling himself that after this, he would move in with his best friend in the city and take a break for the summer from all of this for a little while. He wanted to take a break, and he was also being forced to, so it wasn't bad at all. His location was "compromised" meaning these people figured out where he lived and they would probably go and kill him. He was glad to find out he had to leave his old trash heap of a house.

Before he knew it, he was out the window, a couple of glass shards flying by and trailing behind him. He was cut a lot, but not enough to really kill him. He's still a bit scared of the couple of glass shards stuck in his arm, but he tried not to let it bother him too much. He continues running, the small beep of the building's alarm fading with every few steps he took.