The luggage room rattled with the rhythm of the train and loud whispers shot past the walls on the outside from the large trees whizzing by. Tara glanced angrily over at the exit door that led back into the compartment and huffed. She folded her arms stubbornly and looked away in a sulk.

"With all do respect, Mark, your brother is a complete pig." Tara snapped.

Mark snickered "Funny, that - that's the same thing my mom said about my dad. And then she went and married him."

Tara scrunched up her nose "Your mom is a decent woman. HyunJae can't be anything like his son, or else she wouldn't have fallen in love with him."

She tucked a curl behind her ear and looked down at her lap. Her eyes fell upon the corner of a square that was sticking out of her chest, and she blinked in her remembrance. She undid her cardigan and slipped her fingers down the front of her top to pull out the box. She felt slightly disturbed when a gaping Mark caught her eye afterwards. She rolled her eyes and held the box up to him, and she could have sworn that she heard him 'tsk' in disappointment.

"Where is the red bag?" She asked Henry.

Henry raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean, where is it?"

Tara looked over at him and dropped her hands into her lap, "I mean, Henry, where is it?? That's usually what people mean when they ask where something is!"

Henry held his hands out and shook his head, "Well I don't know where it is! I thought you had it!"

Tara and Henry paused for a moment and, in unison, slowly turned their heads and laid their eyes on Mark. He wasn't even watching them. Quite casually, and perhaps too casually, he was looking around the room as though fascinated by what was stored in it. Henry crossed his arms across his chest and Tara raised a knowing eyebrow.

"Mark." She called him.

"Oh, look - a gramophone!" Mark announced and looked over at them with a smile "What a funny thing to travel with, hey?"

henry rolled his eyes and walked over to Mark "Come on, Markie boy, we know you've got it."

Henry extended his hand down to Mark's level, and Mark stared at it happily. He looked up at Henry and raised his eyebrows.

"Have what, Henry old chap? Buddy?" He tried to butter him up.

Tara rolled her eyes "We need the red bag, now."

Mark looked over at her and narrowed his eyes, "You're the devil's spawn, aren't you, babe."

Tara shook her head at him like a mother would her child when they did something daft. Mark kept his sour eyes locked on Tara as he slipped his hand down behind him and pulled the red bag out. He slapped it into Henry's hand and folded his arms across his chest like a sulking child. It was only when Henry began walking over to Tara with it that he realized being sulky wouldn't get him anywhere, so he smiled hopefully.

"Can't I just have one collection of the bills?" He asked sweetly.

"No." They both snapped at the same time.

Henry stopped in front of Tara and opened the bag out for her to drop it in. She held her hand above it and went to let go, when a small thud came from the roof. They all froze and looked up at the dark-brown ceiling curiously.

What was it?

All of a sudden, a loud crack let in a large amount of light from a square in the roof near the back of the room, and Tara shot to her feet with Mark. She gasped in fear as she watched the two men in black that Jaemin had knocked on conscious jump down into the room, not only landing perfectly and holding their swords once more, but being followed by three more!

"Get Jaemin." Tara breathed out to Henry.

The door suddenly burst open behind them and Jaemin ran in "We've got to' get out of he"-

He froze once he spotted the men on the other side of the room and rolled his eyes. Tara slowly curled her fist around the small box within her hand and moved it behind her back so they wouldn't see. The men moved through the room toward Tara and the others and she slowly backed away behind Jaemin.

"We asked you nicely de' first time... But you continue to refuse to give in. Whad' will it take for you to hand over whad' is rightfully 'arz?" The man at the front asked in a gruff voice.

"Hey, pal, we don't know' what you're talking about." Henry lied.

The man snickered and held his sword out at him "You... are a terrible liar" He told him "Lassuark!!" He suddenly shouted.

At once, all four men behind him let out battle yells and leapt over all of the luggage to attack them. Tara squealed in fright and ran over to the side of the room, as did Henry in the opposite direction, leaving Mark and Jaemin in the center. The men separated so that one when to Tara, one to Henry, and two to Jaemin and Mark. There was one for each of them.

When Henry noticed one of the men coming for him, he jumped and quickly ran round behind a large rectangular crate. He hid behind it and peered to the right; the silver blade of a sword came slashing out towards him and he jerked back so that it smacked into the wooden crate instead. He leapt over to the left side of the crate, only to be met with the face of the black-masked man. He jumped again and dodged to the other side once more, but the man followed him. This game of chase continue for a few more seconds until Henry froze, looked at the crate, and rolled his eyes at himself. He pushed the crate with all of his might and it fell over onto the man so that he was pinned to the floor and left swinging his sword out on the side.

"Remember this name - Henry Watson. That's right, Henry W -- WAGH!" Henry had suddenly been knocked into by Mark, and fell down onto the floor on his side where his nose was just inches away from the swinging sword of the man he had just pushed the crate onto.

Mark ran over the crate so that he squished the man underneath it even more and landed easily on the floor on the other side. He ran to the back of the room in a style so inelegant that it was sheer luck he hadn't fallen over once. He came to the very back of the room and made a groan of disgust at the back door which led to the very end of the train; outside. He spun round and quickly ducked from the sword that swung at his head. The man growled and pulled back his sword, but, to his dismay, found that it was stuck into the wood. Whilst he tugged over and over on his sword to remove it from the wooden wall, Mark sneakily pulled the latch from across the door so that it would open easily. The man finally wrenched his sword from the wall and stepped back to re-attack Mark. Mark rose to his feet and held his hands out nervously.

"I-I don't believe in violence! It