The return trip had been uneventful, apart from Sbatarra's thoughts echoing through her head, whether they were her own or not. At one point there had been what looked like a bandit skulking about, but it had disappeared, judging Sbatarra to be too difficult of a target to be worth his time. It seemed that he had a brain in that skull of his after all.<br/><br/>By the time Sbatarra had reached Izmit, night had fallen over an hour ago. The moon was full, shining brilliantly with silver light not unlike the samurai's hair. The city itself seemed unusually quiet, little to no activity being evident. It was as though the people were afraid to go outside.<br/><br/>When Sbatarra reached the guild, she would find that the building was in shambles. It looked like a berserker in the mightiest of frenzies had smashed into it, the splinters of the door cast all the way to the other side of the entry hall. Blood spattered all over the walls, the entire place looked to have been raided by monsters; the kills had to have been both swift and brutal for such a slaughter, as there were many of her comrades lying in dead heaps on the floor, some of them still clutching their oozing wounds in death.<br/><br/>At the meeting room, there could be seen two of Sbatarra's fellows still alive, though sorely wounded. In the arms of one of them laid Double-Dead, one hand placed firmly over his ribs, blood seeping through his fingers, while the other was tending to the wounds over their guildmaster's body. There were gashes all over his arms, his chest, and a large stab wound in his leg that looked to have been made by a kunai. He looked up and met Sbatarra's amber eyes with his own silvery blue ones, and though they were still cold as ever, they had a certain kind of submission in them, as though he had given up. "We are ruined," he said, pain evident in his voice. "We were attacked by ninjas, and we were caught off-guard. A lesson about arrogance is to be learned from this."<br/><br/>With a yell that was muffled through his mask and gritting teeth, the master assassin was barely able to climb to his feet, but did so, still hunched over and holding his hand over his side. "Do not worry, we will live," he assured his apprentice. "Whether we can recover from this is yet to be seen, but I have faith. We must relocate if we are to do so, because if we are caught recruiting again in this place, we will not be so lucky as to survive with fewer numbers and minimal training."<br/><br/>The one that had held the guildmaster uncorked a light blue, almost colorlessly so, potion that had an odor as pungent as amaretto that had been aged far longer than it should. Double-Dead snatched it, pulled down his mask and slugged the potion down, and took his hand from his side, revealing that the wound had closed, though he was still battered and bloody. He straightened, put his hand at the small of his back, and then leaned over it, his spine making a very satisfying crunch as his vertebrae popped before he stood straight again.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>