Chapter 3:

Eternal Enemies

It took an hour for the Assassins to reach Glasgow; the storm took an ugly turn as rain pounded against the van and thunder rumbled heavily around them. As they entered Scotland's largest city, they noticed that traffic was heavy and backed up on the road leading to the market. The long line of cars, honking and beeping at each other, was moving very slowly and seemed to only be inching along every two minutes.

Zeek's patience was growing thin. "Bloody hell, what is going on up there?" he muttered angrily.

"It's just a traffic jam Zeek, we'll just have to wait for a while," Nick said.

"I'd like to get there by this century!" the fox retorted. "I mean, it's not like the world is in danger or anything! You don't want the history books to remember us getting killed by my apparent bad driving right? Well maybe I don't want us to be remembered for sitting on our butts, stuck in the middle of Scotland, and failing to stop the Templars from find the Piece of Eden that we were supposed to get!"

Zeek slammed his forehead against the steering wheel and growled to himself. The three other Assassins stared at him nervously before he raised his head, exhaling heavily.

“Are you done?” Nuka asked.

"Yup," the fox replied, sounding as if he had just been relieved a great burden.

Ten more minutes passed and the progression of traffic was improving with cars moving out a bit more quickly. From what the Assassins could see, there were flashing police and ambulance lights down the street.

"Looks like someone got into a bad accident up ahead," Shane observed.

Zeek looked at the time on the dashboard and swore to himself. "The market closes at five and it's already four-thirty-five. At this rate, we won't be able to make it in time."

"Couldn't we probably head to a store if we don't make it in time?" Nick asked.

"Too risky," said Nuka. "They managed to find us easily at that supermarket in London, with extra thanks to those security cameras. But in the market here are more people we can blend it with. And since it’s storming out there, that means more people with umbrellas and hoods wandering around. We're going to have to get out here and make our way to the market on foot."

"Wait, what am I supposed to do then?" Zeek asked incredulously.

"When you get out of this traffic, go find a parking spot and let us know where you are,” Nuka replied as she reached into her pocket and pulled out four wireless ear pieces, handing them out to the others. "Here, so we can keep in contact in case we split up. We can talk to each other from opposite sides of the city if we needed to with these."

"Nice," Nick said, placing his own headset on his ear. He turned his attention over to Zeek, who was still annoyed by the traffic buildup. "We'll keep in contact buddy. And have fun looking for a parking spot," he said, smiling.

"Bugger off!" Zeek yelled.

Shane opened up the van door and he, Nick and Nuka stepped outside, bringing their hoods over their heads as the rain fell upon them like a waterfall. Nick slid the door shut behind them, and they made their way to the sidewalk, walking down the city to the market. Cars continued to honk impatiently, and people were exiting their vehicles to either inspect what was causing the hold-up, or to scream at each other for not moving out of the way.

As they approached the source of the hold-up, Nick noticed that the police and ambulance vehicles surrounded a nasty car accident: A truck had apparently crashed into a black SUV. Nick suddenly caught the eye of someone apparently watching him. A tall, grey-furred wolf sporting a black traveling cloak, business pants and shoes was leaning against the ambulance, favoring his bandaged paw. The wolf's eyes snapped to connect with Nick's, and the Assassin turned his head away instantly. His heart was pounding against his chest, and he didn't even dare himself to look back at the older wolf. The Templars could not have found them already could they? Thinking he might be acting a bit paranoid since they did successfully shake the Templars off their tail, Nick did not bring up the subject.

The outdoor market did not have that many people shopping due to the storm, but there were plenty of hooded people that the Assassin group could blend in with. Nuka had Nick go buy the canned goods while she went to get the fruit. Shane told them he would ask around for any nearby stores that might have generators with them to help power their equipment. Nick went to a stall and started looking over the canned foods and checking the prices. Given the money he currently had, he would have enough to get at least two weeks' worth of canned goods. Grabbing cans of soup, fruit, and beans, he handed the money to the vendor, who gave a kind “thank you” to Nick.

"I got the canned goods, how are you guys doing?"

"I've asked about generators, and there's a store down the street that might have what we need," Shane responded. "I'm just going to browse through real quick and see what I can find."

"I got out of this zoo of a traffic jam and just found a parking spot about a block from your location," Zeek piped in.

"I had to go on the other side of the market to find the produce," said Nuka.

"Alright, I'll be underneath a weather cover at a restaurant called Terry’s and keep watch over the market. Good luck," Nick finished.

Nick quickly went to the restaurant and, once he was under the cover, started to scan the area to watch for Templars. He was starting to feel cold, but at least wasn't too wet before the calm and steady rainfall changed to a torrent, almost waterfall-like state. The rain pounded against the cover, sounding like someone was dropping a giant sack of marbles over Nick's head.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Nick pulled the phone out, seeing that he had a new text message from a contact that was labeled "UNKNOWN", but he recognized the area code was from Manhattan where his father was currently located. Andrew McIntyre, the Master Assassin who overlooked Nick’s Assassin cell, had their Assassin’s computer expert, Marcus, keep the Templars from triangulating the source of their electronic devices since Abstergo nearly controlled nearly every aspect of life. They commanded cellular towers to try and track down the scattered Assassins after The Purge, an event that shook the fabric of the Brotherhood and almost caused the complete annihilation of the modern-day Assassins. Daniel Cross, a former Assassin who was actually a sleeper agent working for the Templars, revealed the locations of various Assassin bases to the Order and killed The Mentor. Nick's father was not going to take the chance of being caught and hired Marcus, an expert hacker who was part of a group that has been plaguing Abstergo with cryptic messages and viruses.

Nick quickly opened up the text message, scanning it with his quickly.

“THEY KNOW WHERE YOU ARE.”

His mind drew a blank for a fraction of a second as he absorbed the meaning of the message. The Templars knew where the Assassins were, and they were probably moving in now that they were all separated! Nick’s paw flew to his headset to warn the others about the incoming threat.

"I wouldn't do that, boyo," a male, Irish voice said coldly.

Nick froze, his finger just a fraction of an inch from the talk button. His fur stood up on end as what felt like the barrel of a gun jabbed him in the back.

"Ease up now, I'm not going to kill you. In fact, Mr. Baker would prefer you to be brought in alive. But if you give me a reason to, I will not hesitate to make sure you won’t ever walk again.”

"Why don't you go ahead and do it now?" Nick asked, bringing his paw down from the headset.

"Tempting, really, but I would rather not make too much of a scene unless you forced my hand," the male answered.

"Afraid of the police showing up?" Nick asked again, cynical.

"No. You should know full well that if I were to shoot you right now, then in just a few minutes every officer, every bystander, would have been silenced with just a hand full of money or a visit from some, for lack of a better word, legal consultants. No one would care or question that a boy barely out of his teens was attacked in the streets of Glasgow. Money is power, Mr. McIntyre."

Nick knew that Abstergo--the Templars--had the resources and public influence to convince the entire city to keep quiet. That was one of the reasons the Templars were so dangerous in these times with all their power and money collected from investing in technologies under the umbrella of Abstergo.

Nick's left arm twitched instinctively, wanting to spring his hidden blade out and stab the Templar in the throat.

"Again, I would not do that,” the Templar said as if he knew what Nick was thinking. “We have profiles on you and your friends, Nicolas. You are left handed, perfect for your hidden blade usage. But I assure that I am much faster than you. Plus, you have a gun centered on your spinal cord and I am prepared to use it."

The Assassin smirked, his right paw gripping the sack of cans tightly. "Your sources forgot to mention something...I love to improvise," Nick said as he swiftly turned on his heels and spun his body around, swinging the sack to hit the Templar's arm to knock the gun out of his paw. Simultaneously, Nick brought up his left leg into a roundhouse kick, striking the would-be captor in the face and knocking him back against the wall of the restaurant. Nick noticed in a quick observation that the Templar was the gray wolf from the accident, concluding that his discomfort at that time was justified.

Growling lowly as his paw scanned his face for blood, the Templar pushed himself away from the wall and started to approach Nick. Dropping the sack of cans, the Assassin flicked his wrist and the hidden blade snapped out from his sleeve, poised to seek the neck of the Templar. The Templar saw the blade in time and brought up his right paw to grab Nick's arm and stop the attack. Surprised at the strength of the Templar’s grip, Nick tried to wrest his arm free, but could not fight out of the hold.

The wolf grabbed Nick by the collar of his jacket and threw him into the wall. Nick tried to launch himself at the Templar again, but was violently pinned back against the wall, his arms pinned up next to his head. The Templar kept a firm grip on the crimson wolf, his nostrils flaring as he looked daringly into Nick's eyes.

"I warned you not to do that, boy," he hissed dangerously. "You should consider yourself lucky that Mr. Baker wants you alive."

Nick grunted, trying to free himself from the Templar's hold, but the Templar would not relent, keeping a firm grip and squeezing Nick’s wrists tightly. The commotion was starting to draw a crowd as bystanders stopped to see what was happening nearby. The Templar seemed to notice this as he looked out of the corners of his eyes at the onlookers.

"Let’s end this tomfoolery now, Assassin," the Templar said as his gaze returned to Nick’s. “Your friends are to be killed if they try to be as brave and foolish like you are right now,” he added with the hint of a smile.

"Is that so?" Nick asked, thinking quickly on how he should attempt to escape.

"Yes. The Templars in my little group are deadly in their own unique ways. If your Assassins fight back, well...let's just say the next time you will see them are when they are buried in the ground."

"Then you don't know my friends," Nick said confidently. He smashed his forehead against the Templar’s, who loosened his grip on the Assassin. The attack was unorthodox and simple enough, but Nick preferred to not stay with only one form of fighting as he felt it would make him too comfortable and cocky.

Nick took his chance to send a knee into the Templar’s chest, wrench his arm free and delivered an uppercut to the Templar, staggering him back. He then swung his fists at the Templar, each blow cracking him in the face as blood dribbled from the Templar’s nose. Nick then brought his leg up to strike the Templar in the head, but the gray wolf grabbed Nick’s leg, already recovering from the blows to the face. Nick cried out in pain as the Templar drove his elbow into his leg, then hooked his leg behind the one Nick was standing on and tripped the crimson wolf down. The Templar brought himself down to Nick, whispering furiously into his ear.

“You are making this so much more difficult on yourself Assassin. Just come with me, and I won’t have to break your legs and drag you to Abstergo myself.”

“I’m not going to be one of your damn test subjects!” Nick shot back, unsheathing his hidden blade and driving it to the Templar’s exposed neck. The Templar managed to grab Nick’s arm, but not before the Assassin made a small cut in his neck. The next thing that Nick saw was the Templar’s fist smashing into his head. Dazed, in pain and unable to quickly bring up the strength to fight back, Nick felt the Templar take the hidden blade off his arm. Nick grabbed the collar of the Templar’s jacket, but before he could attempt a move, the Templar pushed Nick’s paw off and pinned him onto the ground by the throat.

“You can’t win. You are outmatched, outnumbered,” he began, now bringing his lips near Nick’s ear. “Just accept your defeat now, and spare yourself more pain. You Assassins are and always will be the losers of this eternal struggle, nothing can change that.”

The Templar then grabbed Nick, pulling him up roughly and half-leading him, half-dragging him up the sidewalk. His uninjured paw tightly gripped Nick’s shoulder, while his injured one grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Despite the injury on the Templar’s paw, the grip on his neck was surprisingly tight, even if lightly loose, Nick noticed.

"What the hell is going on here?” someone finally asked as he approached the two.

"Central Scotland Police," the Templar replied, holding up a badge. "This young man is a wanted criminal that I've been trying to capture… up until now at least."

The badge must have seemed authentic enough, because the civilian backed away a moment later, and the crowd that had gathered around before seemed to go back to their duties.

A black SUV came into view as Nick was lead down the street, and he realized that this was a Templar vehicle. He was running out of time. .

"Your chariot awaits, young Assassin," the Templar said mockingly.

"That's what you think," Nick thought to himself. He then deliberately, but discreetly, tripped and fell onto his paws and knees, praying that the Templar would buy into the trap.

"Get up," the Templar said irritably as he leaned down.

"No problem," Nick whispered to himself. As soon as he felt the Templar was near enough, Nick swiftly grabbed the Templar's left arm, yanking it down quickly and driving a clenched fist onto the Templar's broken paw. The gray wolf cried out in pain as Nick punched the injured paw a few more times, then sent his fist into the Templar's face and knocking him off his feet. Nick quickly rose to his feet, limping away as fast as his tired and hurt body could take him. Looking behind quickly, he saw the Templar slowly getting up, shouting curses and favoring his paw, his face contorted in rage.

Nick hurried his way into the crowd, slipping by and pushing people aside. Where could he go? Where could he run to without people wondering why a limping, bruised boy was trying to hide? Nick was looking around quickly, desperately, looking for any place to escape to. He heard the Templar drawing nearer, and he knew it would not be long until the enraged Templar would reach him. Before he could even come close to formulating a situation, Nick felt something grab him by the scruff of his neck, yanking him back.

Nick gasped, but saw that the Templar did not grab him. It was someone else in a formal business suit, holding an umbrella over both their heads. The individual kept a paw over Nick's mouth, holding him close as if shielding him from the world. Nick's eyes darted around rapidly, trying to see who had grabbed him. He then heard the heavy breathing and cursing of the Templar who paused for a moment behind Nick's savior. His heart was beating fast, hoping that the Templar did not spot him, and that the one who saved him was on his side.

The moment passed, and the Templar was racing back down the street, looking for Nick before being swallowed up by the crowd. The arm was removed from Nick's mouth and he pulled himself away to get a better look at the person that saved him from the Templar. His eyes opened up wide as he looked at the wolf's face: maroon fur, graying hair, and brown eyes staring into Nick's own hazel ones.

"Uncle Malcolm?” he asked in wonder.

"You should be more careful boy," said the rough voice of Malcolm McIntyre.

Zeek Illuser sat in the parked van, leaning back in the seat and feeling bored. He knew that, despite his boredom, he had a job to do right now and that was to get himself and his friends out of the city if trouble should arise. However it did not stop him from feeling even slightly useless, given that he had nothing to do but sit in the seat of a van in the middle of Scotland while the others were out gathering items. He began to wonder if they may have already been jumped by the Templars, but then remembered that they could all communicate with each other through the headset. Zeek groaned, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel.

There was a tapping on the driver side window, and the fox sprung his head from the steering wheel. Outside his window stood a tall dragon with swamp-green scales, who kept tapping his knuckles against the glass. Zeek saw a ring with a red cross carved in the middle on the dragon’s paw: The sign of the Templars.

“Get out,” the dragon said.

Zeek swiftly went to turn on the van, but he heard the sound of breaking glass and felt pieces of the broken window nick his face. Slowly turning his head to face the Templar, he saw the dragon’s fist withdrawing from the space where the window used to be.

“Strike one. Out of the car, boy,” he said in a thick Welsh accent. The look on his face showed a character that did not want to mess around right now, probably finding it a hassle—but necessary—to rip Zeek out of the driver’s seat if he needed to. The fox unlocked the door and stepped out into the pouring rain, actually now looking up at the Templar.

Compared to Zeek’s five-foot-nine frame, the Templar towered over him, roughly six-foot-five and built like a fighter. He wore a black vest over an equally black business shirt, a red tie strapped around his neck. Black business pants and shoes completed his daunting, but gentlemanly, appearance.

“Come with me, Mister Illuser.”

“Why?” Zeek inquired, standing his ground. He then wondered at first if that was a stupid question to ask as well as dangerous when the Templar stepped closer to him, staring into the Assassin’s eyes.

“If you’re wondering why I’m not killing you on the spot, it is because Master Baker would prefer to keep you alive, though…if you give me a reason to, I will break you.”

“What does Baker want from me?”

“Why, having you be our little incentive of course!” the dragon responded enthusiastically. “If we want Mister McIntyre to work and cooperate properly with us, we are going to need those who he holds dear to him. Keep a firm grip on the heart, and we have control over him.”

Zeek glared at the Templar, clenching his fist tightly. The dragon stared at Zeek’s left arm, where his hidden blade was located and smiled to himself.

“I’m not coming with you,” Zeek responded firmly, though the Templar seemed unsurprised. He merely gazed at Zeek with a newfound curiosity.

“And…why is that, Mister Illuser?” he asked slowly.

“I’m not going to be some damn bargaining chip for you Templars to toy with, and I’m not going to be used against my own friends,” Zeek growled. He knew that he would never live with himself if he turned himself over to the Templars and be used as leverage to make sure Nick would work for them. He had more respect for himself and his friends than that. The Templar breathed out through his nostrils.

“That is strike two, fox.”

It was as if a heavy stone shot itself into Zeek as the Templar thrust his fist into Zeek’s abdomen, bringing the Assassin to his knees. Zeek had no time to catch any breath before another heavy fist smashed into his face; Zeek was surprised that the punch didn’t destroy his jaw. Scrambling quickly up to his feet, Zeek unsheathed his hidden blade and thrust it to the Templar. With surprising speed the dragon grabbed Zeek’s blade arm, watching him as the fox tried to pull out of the vice-grip. Zeek saw the dragon’s other paw reach over to grab the blade, and started to feel his arm quiver. Realizing almost too late the Templar sought to break the blade, Zeek tried to pull himself free of the Templar’s grasp, but his arm would not so much as budge from the Templar’s paw..

And then it happened. Zeek heard the sound of metal snapping as the dragon actually broke the hidden blade. Tossing the blade aside, the Templar delivered more swift stone-like punches to Zeek’s ribs. The Templar’s paws then wrapped around Zeek’s throat, lightly choking him as he was pinned against the side of the van. Zeek tried to summon up his strength, but the tight grip would not yield. His strength starting to fade, Zeek could only look at the dragon now, who locked eyes with the Assassin as though x-raying him.

“Do you fear me, boy?” he asked.

Zeek thought that was an odd question to ask, even from a Templar. What was he supposed to gain from this?

“Why? Do you fear me?” Zeek shot back.

The Templar sighed. “Why of course, Mister Illuser, I fear you. You and your kind, who skulk around in the dark, can strike at any time, any place. You blend in with society and strike down anyone who you feel is a threat to your little plans of people “earning” the peace, stability and order they so desperately need. Hell, there’s some Templars I know of that can’t even sleep with both eyes shut because of you Assassins. Which drink or food will you attempt to poison, which public official will you corrupt to lobby against Abstergo and progress? When will you strike us? When we’re most vulnerable or in broad daylight to make an example out of us?

“So yes I am afraid of you Mister Illuser, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of! Fear is a survival instinct. Fear is what gives you a reason to be alive, gives you that extra urge to live so you won’t feel Death’s cold embrace. And with that, I ask again. Do you fear me, Mister Illuser?”

The dragon’s eyes searched Zeek’s again, sneering slightly. Zeek knew his answer; he just needed to know how to address it fully.

“No.”

The dragon’s eyes widened slightly, dangerously. His sneer slowly became a low and deadly growl as his lips raised slightly, baring his fangs at the fox.

“Mister Illuser…that was strike three.”

The paws were removed from Zeek’s throat, but before he could breathe normally again the Templar hit heavy strikes into the Assassin’s head, then his chest and ribs began to feel the heavy blows. Zeek wondered if the pain was actually dulling any broken bones in his body. Nope, he definitely felt a rib break as his body was struck again, causing him to fall to the ground. Again and again, he felt the Templar’s fists crush into his body. He tasted blood in his mouth, felt bruises on his face as he was at the complete mercy of the Templar.

The punches stopped coming, and he heard the heavy breathing of the Templar who seemed to have lost control of himself and nearly abandoned his appearance of a gentleman. Out of the corner of his eye, Zeek saw the Templar raised his head to look at the sky, apparently letting the cool rain water splash onto his face. Zeek took the opportunity to reach under his jacket and unsheathe his dagger, hiding it under his sleeve. He knew now that he should not take the Templar head-on. Zeek struggled to get himself to his feet, pain surging through his shivering body with each move he tried to make. The Templar approached Zeek, looking down at the fox with a slight superiority.

“You do not fear me, so you lack an instinct of survival which, I believe, means you do not care if you die. So Mister Illuser, I will grant you your wish. You will die out here in the cold streets of Scotland, thousands of miles away from home. You may whimper, you may scream if you have to, but I promise you this: When you finally feel that twinge of fear, when you finally begin to understand fear and you look up at me with your pathetic face and beg for me to spare your life…I will look down at your broken, mangled body. And I will whisper...’No.’”

Zeek spat out blood on the ground and gave the Templar a defiant look as the Templar stooped down to grab Zeek by the throat, lifting him up again.

“You didn’t bother to let me finish,” Zeek croaked, glaring at the Templar. “I do know fear, and it’s not you I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of not being there for Nuka, afraid of letting Nick and Shane down. I’m afraid of failing everyone, which is what I’ll do if I die out here.”

The smallest hint of regret formed on the Templar’s face, but he still seemed adamant in his stance. “Nonetheless Mister Illuser, you have struck out of this game. Now I shall take you away from the pain of failure,” he said as he took a paw off of Zeek’s throat, balling it into a fist and aiming it at the fox’s head.

Zeek saw his opportunity and slid his dagger out of his sleeve, driving the blade into the dragon’s stomach. The Templar was caught off guard, gasping slightly in pain as Zeek yanked the blade out of his stomach. Pressing his paw slightly to the wound, the Templar found blood on his paws, but the wound was not too serious. Growling lightly, he approached Zeek. The fox ducked low, slicing across the Templar’s knee and dropping him to his good knee. Dagger pointed at the Templar’s throat, Zeek thrust the blade, but the Templar actually smacked the dagger away. Not wasting a moment, Zeek swung his own punches at the Templar, but the Templar’s head seemed to be made of iron. Resisting the urge to shake his paw free of the jolting pain, Zeek grabbed the dragon’s head and smashed it violently against the side of the van once, twice with almost no effect. The third time started to make a small dent into the van, but after Zeek smashed the head against the van a fourth time the Templar crumpled to the ground without a sound.

Zeek stumbled and pressed his back against the van, holding his side and taking in deep breaths. He felt proud of himself for taking down the Templar, but did not keep the positive attitude for long knowing he needed to find the others. He reached for his headset, surprised to find it not at his ear anymore. Quickly getting to his knees, he searched the ground, swearing at himself when he found the device broken.

Something stirred in the corner of his eye, and Zeek turned his head quickly. The movement came from the direction of the collapsed Templar. Zeek reached for his dagger and began to approach the Templar’s apparently lifeless body.

“Please don’t let this be a stupid decision,” he prayed to himself as he stood over the dragon’s body. Taking in a deep breath, he aimed the blade at the Templar’s head and plunged down.

The dragon’s eyes snapped open as he grabbed Zeek’s blade, immobilizing it completely. Not wanting to have another broken blade, Zeek tugged at his dagger until it ripped itself free of the Templar’s paw. The Templar was unfazed however as he started to slowly get to his feet, a low growl emitting from his throat and getting noticeably louder.

The fox was unable to move for a moment as he looked at the Templar in shock. The presence of a gentleman was completely erased with something else taking over. Zeek knew that he was contending with something he could not match in his condition. He started to back up quickly, unable to take his eyes off of the approaching menace. The dragon locked his eyes with Zeek’s, slowly tilting his head to the side lightly as if sensing Zeek’s fear.

Zeek’s back touched a wall, and after quickly looking around he saw that the Templar backed him up against a long row of stores with the only escape he saw would be either running down to the corner of the street, or chance to dodge by the dragon and get into the van.

The Templar had started to cross into the street, and Zeek knew that there wasn’t any time to debate: He would have to go down fighting. He raised his dagger, holding it in front of him defensively. The smallest hint of a smile cracked through the Templar’s emotionless face as he came closer, fists clinched down at his sides and ready to beat the Assassin to death.

Tires screeched loudly, and then a black car slammed violently into the Templar. The Templar’s body rolled and thrashed over the car before tumbling off the back end of the vehicle. As Zeek wondered if the dragon was dead, the passenger’s side window rolled down, revealing a Scottish Terrier as his savior.

“Get in!” he hollered. Zeek did not hesitate as he climbed into the back seat, believing that this was not a Templar trap as there was no sign of Abstergo or Templar symbols within the vehicle despite its lavish design. When he slammed the door shut, the terrier put his foot to the pedal and began to drive the car quickly down the street.

“Who are you?” Zeek asked.

“That doesn’t matter right now, what matters is that we pick up Miss Vargun before the Templars get her as well.”

“Nuka? Do you know where she is?”

“Yes, we should be able to get to her in a few moments Mister Illuser,” the driver said, quickly passing back a small medical bag. “There are some supplies in there to temporarily deal with any of your injuries, sir.”

Zeek looked out the back window as he opened up the kit, looking in complete disbelief as the Templar got back to his feet slowly. The driver turned the corner before Zeek could get a proper look, but the Assassin thought he saw the dragon pop his shoulder back into place with no trouble.