​          Aleksei gulped in air as he tried to breathe around the huge hand pressing on his windpipe. The only reason he was not completely suffocating was because he was hanging onto the monster’s huge arm and pulling himself up while his feet dangled a metre above the floor. He discovered why the man did not flinch when The Messenger shot his hand because what Aleksei felt through his sleeve, was not skin, rather it felt like interlocking pieces of hard plastic.
          “Kid, you’re a smart one,” the man spoke, his face hidden in shadow, “You knew to eliminate my senses of sight, hearing, and to an extent smell, but you forgot touch. Every move you made I felt. I’ve killed much more dangerous aberrations before, but you’ve survived longer than any other. I’m impressed. As a favour, any final words?” He loosened his grip on the youth’s neck.
          “We’re Jinn…” Aleksei spat.
          “Huh?”
          “Jinn! You, me, the dark one, we’re Jinn.”
          Shaking the boy, the man shouted into his face, “You’re comparing us?! Do you want to see how we are nothing alike?” he stepped back, letting light shine down on his face.
          Aleksei gasped in shock. He never once had a chance to see the man’s features whilst dodging office furniture. Instead of skin, the man had dark scales with faint chevron pattern and short, bony protrusions on his brows, cheeks, jawline and crown. His face was strangely elongated, his eyes were like those of an adder and the corners of his mouth ran to almost where his earlobes would have been but where instead he just had disk shaped scales which protruded forwards with dark holes in the middle.
    “I am no Jinn! No aberration!” he spat out, anger filling his voice, “I’m Nebuchadnezzar3, the result of the most advanced genetic science! As a favour to the best to challenge me, I’ll ensure your sister can recognise you.” He dropped Aleksei and raised his fist.
          Aleksei, as he dangled in the air, had decided what he wanted his final thought to be.  Ya tibya l’ublyu, Mashka. He never saw when the fist started moving, but the next thing he felt was a blast of wind strike his face.
       The massive, scaled fist was stopped, caught by a slender, clawed hand. The giant looked beside him at the woman who glared fiercely at him with golden eyes.
          “Beautiful and quiet,” he muttered in admiration.
          “Ugly and stupid,” she growled back.
          “You flatter me b--,” he was silenced when she turned, leveraging herself at the back of his knee and judo threw him by his arm over her.
          Nebuchadnezzar3, though disconcerted by the strength of such tiny a woman, did not neglect landing on both feet while he grabbed hold of her arm. With a simple jerk he threw her across the room where she collided into the shelves.
          Immediately she rose, with a loud crack her shoulder put itself back into its socket and she growled out, “Aleksei, leave or I might kill you!”
          Her brother could tell this was no longer his Mashka, and she was dead serious. He began his cautious retreat.
          “You’re cocky, I like it. You can know me as Nezzar until I kill you. Live a while, please?”
          She did not answer, instead she charged in an erratic pattern at inhuman speed.
         Nezzar chuckled and vanished, sending shelves and cabinets scattering like chaff. The two were only visible again when his fist struck her crossed arms. The raw force of the blow sent her back as she attempted the cushion the blow. Though she tried to slow herself down, she still struck the other side of the room with enough speed to crack the dry wall. Not even having a chance to move, he peeled her from the wall by her leg, spun her around like a whip, and slammed her into the floor.
          She yowled monstrously but was silenced by the next strike. For just a brief time Mashka was once again in control. She could feel her broken ribs scratching the inside of her chest, and the sensation of her heart fluttering weakly. She heard her brother scream her name, but knew it was not going to rouse her from the engulfing silence. The world, was slipping away as she came to rest on the floor. Beautiful stars surrounded her.
~~~~~~~~~~
          “What possessed you to follow us to London?!” Evan demanded.
          His son shrugged, “Just wanted in on whatever you were doing. It was not too hard to find you. I just installed a gps app on your burner phone when you weren’t looking.”
          “This is not a game Jack! You could be getting into real danger!”
          Jack grabbed Evan’s shirt and tugged him closer.  “Hey, Dad, I’m a skilled medic, you could need me.  If a tiny Russian boy and his cute sister can handle this, then I sure can.”
          “They can’t handle anything! Even I am in over my head! Just turn around and forget anything happened.”
          “Not a chance! The day you come to Edinburgh, and we have a major bank heist, a car-bombing, and a multi-person shootout at the port. I want to know what’s going on, and I want to help.”
          Evan looked about anxiously, trying to think of a way to dissuade him.
          “This is my choice, let me help my dad!”
          Silence passed long between them as they walked together. At last Evan stopped and turned to his son. “Jack… I nev--,”
     His voice was cut off by a deafening rumble. He looked down the street at the condemned office building which the Association had selected as temporary headquarters. A huge plume of dust was rolling out of the alley.
          “You still want to help?” Evan asked before running towards wreckage.
~~~~~~~~~~
          Mashka’s eyes fluttered closed. When she opened them she gasped for breath, what felt like Nezzar’s grip still touched her throat. However the giant human experiment was nowhere to be seen. Instead she found herself lying flat on her back looking up into pitch darkness. She shook herself and sat up, but still she felt the suppressing weight against her chest and throat. The ground beneath her was as smooth as glass and dark as obsidian. She could just barely recognise that she was casting a shadow so she looked behind her too find the light source.
        Her breath caught in her throat. Suspended over the featureless horizon was a sideways crescent moon, its twin arms were almost a full circle around its shadowed surface and where their points would have met, a star like object shown brilliantly. The bizarre moon reflected itself on the glass surface of the foreign world, producing an elliptical duplicate. Her hair fell in front of her eyes and she noticed her formerly blond hair, was once again its natural dark brown colour.
          'Where am I?' she wondered, as she brushed the stray locks back.
          “Where are you?” A grainy, masculine voice echoed her thoughts.
          Mashka spun around, still labouring to breathe under the immense pressure. “Who’s there?!” her eyes darted at the darkness but saw nothing beside the featureless surface and sky. No movement, not even the slightest breeze touched her. 'Aleksei told me he had a place inside him. Is this mine?'
          “Mine!?! You think you have any way to claim this world as “mine!?!””
          “What is this place then!?”  Mashka demanded.
          No answer.  
       Goosebumps rose on her arms as she shivered. Wherever this was, it felt barely five degrees Celsius and there was no moisture in the air, as if she was in a tomb.
          'Don't be scared,' she reminded herself.
          “Why? Your judgement has not even started.” 
     Something darker than even the obsidian surface appeared, marring the moon’s reflection like ink. The substance began to creep towards Mashka.
          She spun on her heel and ran. After several strides she looked behind her to see that the black cloud under the glass was gaining on her. In the centre of the mass, a bloodshot eye with a glowing yellow iris and needle like pupil opened and stared at her.
          Forcing out the loudest scream she could muster, Mashka cried out. “Let me out of here!!!”
          The eye widened gleefully at her terror, then shut. The black substance sank down, returning the monotony of the surreal world.
          Panting, Mashka looked anywhere for a possible escape and attempted to rationalise her situation. 'How do I get back? I must be dreaming… or dying?'
          “Closer to the former…” the harsh masculine voice replied in her head.
          Mashka turned to face the source of the words.
          “…but you will wish it was the latter!”
          Before her eyes stood a robust, man-shaped form, its void colour causing it to barely contrast against the obsidian ground and inky sky. From around the left side of its head appeared a single yellow eye and from the right side of the face crawled a mouth with four tusk-like fangs. Both organs seemed to float on the surface of the rippling, muscular silhouette.
          She screamed.
          The black beast’s mouth and eye slid on the surface of its motionless head, giving the illusion of a cockeyed, curious stare. “Are you screaming? Because I can’t hear--.” The silhouette shifted and vanished.
          Mashka’s breath hitched as she lost sight of the terrifying spectre.
          The voice finished its sentence behind her “--you didn’t give me any EARS!!!”
          She turned her head just in time to see the beast’s large, black hand grab hold of the side of her face. The air whistled in her ears as she was torn down and slammed temple first into the glass floor. Black dust plumed and swirled, sparkling like tiny sequins in the moonlight as cracks in the obsidian radiated out ten metres from the impact.
          As the shimmering dust dissipated, the black form bent down to look at his victim’s face, which was half buried into the ground, the one visible eye staring sightlessly ahead, reflecting the grinning moon.
          “Wake up!” the thing called.
          The cloud behind Mashka’s eye vanished and she gasped in surprise and confusion, all pain was gone.
          “That’s the first time I’ve killed you.”
         Her eye gaped wide as she realised that half of her face was embedded into the ground. She sat up and felt the side of her face, shocked it had not been obliterated.
          “Amusing, isn’t it?” the black being growled through his tusk-like fangs. “Here no matter how much pain you go through, it’s all erased, not at all like what you put me through in the Outworld."
          Out of the corner of her eye, Mashka could make out his dark first move towards her. With speed born of desperation she rolled, feeling the air whistle by her ear. She prepared to stand, hoping to face her opponent but the ground rose and catapulted her through the air. Instantly her reflexes kicked in and she landed on her feet but skid as if she had landed on ice due to the smooth obsidian. When she brought herself to a halt she looked up at where she had come from. A gargantuan shard of the volcanic glass rose twenty metres into the starless sky, mirrored by another one opposite, a testament to the force and hatred in the black creature’s blow.
          She noticed the beast appear on top of the shard. He looked at her once then sped down its surface to the ground. Mashka blinked, revealing blue irises sliced down the middle by wide cat pupils. Her eyes shifted rapidly following the monster’s zigzagging movement. As he approached, her canines and fingernails lengthened.
          Bracing herself, Mashka was as ready as she could be for the onslaught until her enemy almost disappeared. She had just barely discerned the direction of his movement and twisted to her left, bringing her arms around to deflect his kick to her side. She moved just in time, catching the blow with her arms and transferring the energy of it through her body, skidding back several metres on the glass, but she held her balance.
          The creature stood still, its eye and mouth cocked sideways.
          Mashka felt a shudder down her spine. 'God, let me out of here!'
          “Do you honestly think you would allow God to see this part of your heart?”
          “My…” she caught herself, remembering he could not hear her. 'My heart?!'
          “Where else could someplace so bizarre exist?” the creature spat out.
          That means… you must be a repha!
          The thing laughed, like a gurgle in his throat. “Your brother talks too much. He’s weak, dream faced, and apathetic. He will never become anything.”
           'Don’t talk about my brother!'
          “These are not my words… no, they are yours!”
          'I never said those things!'
          “Of course you didn’t, you stored them here and gave them to me. ‘Mother was too weak of a woman to stop loving her husband, even after he left. Her love killed her in the end.’ ‘Vladimir’s resolve is at least less worthless than his brother.’ I could go on, I hear all your thoughts!”
          Mashka’s eyes watered. 'Stop… stop it, I never meant that.'
          “Fool, the only things you ever mean you give to me. I am the only one to hear your most private thoughts, and you loath me despite that. I am just a monster to you, and yet, you were the one to create me.”
          Mashka swallowed hard as she shuddered in guilt and realisation.
          “Now, Mashka, finally it is time, for me to take what has been mine all along, so I can be the god of your mind and body!”

          Each step echoed as Aleksei walked down the quiet hall on the second floor of an old office building, now turned into The Association’s London branch. He glanced out at the grey, London afternoon. A minor tributary to the muddy River Thames flowed alongside dividing the streets below, defying the right angles of man as it wormed its way to the sea.
          It had been quiet since he woke up that morning. SICA seemed unaware of their location in London, but they had to be careful. As explained by the tattoo-techie, Bruno, SICA possessed a backdoor to London’s vast security camera network, and many similar networks in NATO influenced nations. Thus in the west, The Association historically did not operate in large cities where such video surveillance existed. Their strategy at the moment in hiding in London was that it was the last place Sentinel would suspect them to be. Such reasoning did make Aleksei feel any less uneasy. London and New York were the twin centres of SICA, and it was foolish for any jinn to be near them. He looked ahead when he heard his sister’s voice.
          “Privet!” she called from the opposite end of the hall.
          Aleksei broke his vigil at the window and waved back, and was about to return her greeting, along with a gentle jibe at her circular shades. Before he could Bruno abruptly entered the hall near her. Even at the considerable distance, his bushy eyebrows betrayed to Aleksei a mixture of worry and confusion.
          “What’sss the matter?” a voice gurgled, causing Aleksei to make a less than masculine cry, and side skip away from a suddenly present, dark hoodie-clad Messenger at his side. Bruno replied from the opposite side of the hall. “It might be nothing, but a couple of our cameras are experiencing interference.”
          Aleksei composed himself after a quick shudder, and was about to give his two pence, but the shadowy thing beside him cut to the chase.
          “Need me to take care of it?”
          Mashka began to breach the gap between herself and her brother.
          Scratching his beard, Bruno replied.  “Yeah, I’ll go with--,”
          Aleksei and The Messenger stopped listening. Something was wrong, and they both felt it. Mashka continued to walk towards her brother, having about fifteen metres to go. Her soles clicked on the tile. click, click, click… click… click……click.
          Her steps slowed.   Her face twisted slightly as if she heard something unpleasant.
          Through trembling lips, her brother called to her, “Get d--!”
          click… clic--,
          The wall erupted beside Mashka, powdered plaster billowed into clouds and rebar hurtled like matchsticks. This was followed a half second later by the ceiling collapsing and the floor above falling down until it resembled a park slide that would never pass a safety inspection.
          “Mashka!!!” Aleksei screamed as his sister and Bruno vanished from view.
          Silence.
          “Mashka!!!”
          “Harasho!”
           Aleksei gasped in relief, short-lived relief. As the dust began to clear, he could make out a large figure in the midst of the debris.
           “M-mashka…” he began nervously.
          It shifted, turning its hulking silhouette.
           “Run!  Get out of here!” he cried.
          He turned to run the opposite way, but spotted The Messenger trapped underneath a beam.
          “Are you alright?” he asked, looking at how the beam had trapped it.
           “I’m fine!" it snapped, "My legsss are jussst ssstuck ssso I can’t leverage.”
          Aleksei strained against the beam and pushed it aside. The Messenger hopped up and sped off, Aleksei thought it prudent to pursue.
          The young man hazarded a glance over his shoulder. The dust had cleared enough for him to make out that the shadow was a man, a huge man. Standing almost three metres tall with broad shoulders and thick limbs. He raised some big, rod-like object, still obscured by the dust. As Aleksei dove around the corner, a dozen bullet holes punched through the wall causing\ an entire panel to topple, followed by a bone-rattling 'BOOM', eliminated the mystery of what the massive man was wielding.
          Looking around as he ran down the hall, Aleksei found that he was alone. The much faster Messenger had vanished. Up ahead there was a door into a small kitchenette break-room. He took refuge against the wall beneath a table and peaked back through the door the way he came. The huge man wore a red hooded sweater, much the same way The Messenger wore its black one to conceal its face. His head scraped against the ceiling as he lumbered down the hall and cast aside his giant-sized shotgun.
          Aleksei’s eyes shifted in search of an escape, but he had unwittingly dashed into a room with no other doors. He looked at the sink, and knew he had only one option. He jumped up and turned the faucets to full blast and plugged the drain.  All the while the huge man walked closer.
          Hands shaking, Aleksei tried to evaporate the water. Precious seconds passed, nothing happened. The man could not have been more than twenty metres away now, every step vibrating the floor.
          Finally, he did it, the water burst into a cloud, and Aleksei’s face transformed into an almost eager expression. He walked to the door and aimed at the approaching juggernaut, and shot his hand out, a portion of the mist following his motion. This was followed three more times with alternating hands. The hissing clouds struck full force, leaving curious arrays of cuts through the hoodie.  However, they barely slowed the man’s advance, and if they caused any pain, he was not showing it.
          Aleksei was not going to try again, he had enough water now. In a wave, the coffee room vanished into the billowing mist, followed by the hallway. Dashing out of the dead end, he ran down the hall into a giant office, still half filled with low cubicles. He heard a smashing sound behind him, and a second later his displaced vapour field spurred him to find cover. He ducked behind a cubicle, as right beside him, a wooded beam flew through the air, and embedded itself into the floor like a dart. With his mist Aleksei could sense the plaster and portions of wall stuck to the makeshift missile, and realised it was a wall stud the man had ripped out bare-handed. He heard and then sensed the man punch his hand through the wall, and rip out another stud. With one hand he raised the next two-by-four stud, and pointed it in Aleksei’s exact direction.
          The youth could not move fast enough, as the beam punched through the cubicle like a spear. Despite the dense fog screen, the man had aimed exactly at Aleksei’s position. Next doors, chairs, shards of window glass, and desks all whistled through the air with supernatural speed and accuracy, had it not been for Aleksei's sensory foresight he would not be able to avoid the onslaught.
          'He must be like Mashka! How else can he know where I am?'
          He dodged, just as lamp stand pierced the wall beside him. He tripped over a knocked over chair and tumbled, facing upwards, next to a window which was letting light stream in, and possibly leaving a more than visible outline of him in the mist. Suddenly he saw his face staring back at him and he heard a cringe-inducing shriek. A wall mirror had pierced right through the window, just above his face, so quickly the glass did not have more than a few cracks radiating from the breach.
          He had to try something else, fast.  He caused two cyclones in the mist and intensified them to produce cover noise.  To his satisfaction, the giant aimed his makeshift projectiles at them. Silently, Aleksei hurried into position, not breathing.
           'So, he was using his hearing?'
          He touched his eight fingers together, then tore them away from one another diagonally, a narrow blade of mist formed between his hands, but something else did as well, a high-pitched whistle of the compressed vapor.
          'I’m dead!'
          His next dodge was closer than all the previous ones as he felt some unidentifiable office furniture brush his arm, leaving an angry friction burn.
          Throwing caution to the wind, Aleksei had the mist propel him off the floor, and toss him over a few rows of cubicles.  He landed feet first with a thump on a tile surface, but the sound was covered over by the leftover cloud rushing around him and dashing itself against a pile of boxes. Reacting to the noise, the man turned his back to Aleksei, and the boxes were promptly cratered by a printer. Aleksei took his chance, dashing closer, a shrieking scythe once again forming between his hands, and then with a flick of his arm, the vapour blade zipped towards its target.
          The man turned, raised his forearm, and knocked the blade aside almost casually, even though his sweater sleeve was instantly tattered by the hungry mist.
           'Is his skin made of rocks?' Aleksei wondered.
        Being unable to stop his charge, the young man was forced to slide between the giant’s legs.  He rapidly condensed the water before and behind him, leaving a thin layer of ice on the floor, as the giant raised a foot in surprise. Catching him off balance, Aleksei sent a burst of mist at the man’s head, causing him to step down on the icy floor, and slip, sprawling backwards onto the floor.
          Hopping back up, Aleksei guided a serpent of fog to spiral around his body, up his arm, and then down towards the prone giant, the fog reaching a near deafening pitch as the serpent became a blade, ready to slice the hulking menace lengthwise.  
          Before Aleksei’s eyes, the man became a blur. Aleksei felt a massive tunnel be punched through his mist field. In a storm of motion; desks, chairs, boxes, and papers parted, like the Red Sea for Moses, across the room, pushed aside by an invisible force. The giant was gone, and his scattered fog could not tell him where he went.
          What followed were a couple seconds of complete silence. Then Aleksei’s hair and clothes were blown from behind by a wind, reminding him of the feeling of standing beside a bus as it passed at high speed. He looked back in time to see a head-sized fist aimed at his face.
~~~~~~~~~~
          Hearts pounding and breaths bated, Bruno and Mashka hurried with light steps and pressed their backs against a wall, taking an indirect, but evasive path out of the building.  Bruno pulled out a small, convex mirror to see around the corner. He sighed when he saw the hall was clear.
          “Mashka, ve’re almost out.” He urged, the tension of the moment causing him to fall into his native accent. “Vallow me.”
          “What about my brother?”
          “He vit' creepy, trust me, he’ll be fine.”
          Mashka jumped at the distant cacophony. The walls and doors hummed with reverberations. “How can you be so sure?! It sounds like the building is collapsing!”
          “Vhich is vhy ve are getting out.”
          “Niet, my brother could be in trouble.”
          Bruno pulled at his short hair in frustration. “Look, I don’t know vhat ve’re up against, but it’s probably SICA, vich is bad, especially for you.”
           The building rumbled again, making up Mashka’s mind. “I’m going back for him. Show me the way, or I’m going by myself.” With no further warning, she ran in the direction of the commotion.
          “Vait!” he shouted after her.
          She rounded the corner, and halted in surprise.
          A short, sable-skinned woman stepped out of one of the side rooms and looked Mashka’s direction. Her black eyes opened wide at her discovery, and she promptly raised a gun.
          Before Mashka could even start to realise her predicament, she was tackled by Bruno and they both tumbled into a large office room, the sickening thud of bullet cracking bone echoing in their ears.
          They rolled once over each other, before Mashka disentangled herself, her eyes glancing over her body.
          “Are you alright?” Bruno asked in a strained voice.
          Mashka turned to him, her shades gone and her golden cat eyes displayed her fear. “Y-yes.”  When she saw a moist darkness show through the man’s hip, turning a widening spot of his jeans violet, she reached out, but stopped herself from touching him. Her fingers were now tipped with sharp talons.
          She would have been panicking, the beast was back, and she had lost almost all control, but the silent steps of her huntress frightened her more. She was close, and Mashka knew she was the only one who could stop her.
          Out of the darkness, the eye opened. A misty breath rolled out between four curved fangs, and obscured the starry sky.
          Lifting the brawny Bruno with ease, Mashka carried him in her arms and ran full speed down the corridor. He would have protested against the princess-carry, but he knew silence was needed. Her eyes shifted everywhere, seeking a place to hide.
          A pale, crescent moon grinned down on the black sea, and wicked laughter filled the chill air.
          She whispered in Bruno’s ear as she laid him down in a cubicle in a side room, “How is the wound?”
          He nodded and replied, “The bullet missed anything vital, or it would be bleeding more.”  He lifted his gun to her.  “Take it.”
          She shook her head, a strange grin on her face.
          That’s right… give me my body!
           Through sharp teeth, she replied with a grotesquely deep voice, “I won’t need it.” Mashka could feel reality slipping, but she held on. She needed the beast’s destructive power, she could not do this on her own. Stepping out of the room and into the hall, she took her place, ready to confront the enemy, flexing her spine and joints as her range of motion increased.
          The dark woman rounded the corner.  She took one look at Mashka and holstered her gun. “I read your file, Miss Sharov. Anything short of a shotgun would not slow you down.” Her hand fell to the other side of her belt, from which she drew a large hunting knife. “My name is Nyra, and I have come to slay you.” With a flick of her wrist, the blade extended to thrice its original length and locked into place. She raised the sword-like blade before her face, and bowed.
          Mashka was stunned. The woman’s face was so calm and indifferent. She saw no hatred in Nyra’s eyes, nor remorse in her voice. Her attention returned to the blade as Nyra flicked it aside, and then charged.
          Even with her enhanced reflexes, Mashka was taken off-guard by Nyra’s speed. There was a metallic clang and Mashka found the edge of the blade just a few inches from her face. Fortunately, the beast had taken control of her hands and caught the blade in the V of her interwoven claws.
          Nyra pressed her blade against the smooth talons, but they did not give. Her eyes shifted about, betraying her fascination. After one more push forward, Nyra pulled back, preparing to slice from another angle. Mashka seamlessly advanced, lashing out with her claws and a swift kick. Nyra tucked back, stopped a stab to her face with the flat of her blade, then flipped to retreat from the kick. As she rolled in the air, she retrieved her handgun from its holster. Immediately after landing, she aimed to shoot out one of the beastly woman’s eyes. But before she could, Mashka stabbed her claws into the wall then flung a chunk of plaster at Nyra’s face.
          On reflex, Nyra smacked the plaster aside with her sword, but she could not stop the white dust exploding and getting in her eyes. She was blind, but did not panic. She was a warrior, a hunter, a monster slayer, no matter what part she lost. Relying only on her gut, she stepped left and brought the blade down on the fare blur which she imagined was her prey’s neck.
          Mashka backed away and felt a line of pain from the corner of her chin to her jaw. With ease she dodged Nyra’s frenzied, but calculated slashes and thrusts. She could tell that the woman was blinded, but her assault was enough to give even the beast within pause from recklessly attacking. Mashka struggled with every fibre of her soul to hold onto her impulses, but still felt almost removed from her body. She tasted the blood which flowed down her right cheek, and focused on the metallic flavour to keep herself in reality.  
          A sharp pain burned in her side, so Mashka took control for a moment to leap and flee down the hall. Once she was a few metres removed from Nyra, she felt her side and cheek.  She could feel her flesh pulsate as it slowly closing the wounds, though they had not been deep, she did not want to overestimate her own healing capability. She looked up at Nyra, who took the brief respite to wipe her eyes.
          The two women stared at each other, then Nyra advanced, and Mashka once again surrendered her body.
          A midnight silhouette rose from the glassy orb, reaching for the hooked moon.
~~~~~~~~~~
          Aleksei was disappointed that his life failed to flash before his eyes, robbing him of a path down memory lane before his looming death by skull-imploding fist. Without time to utter a prayer, a dark shadow flew overhead.
          BANG! BANG! BANG!
          Three bullets, one after another, embedded themselves in the back of the giant’s hand. The force of the shots knocking the fist down, sparing Aleksei from a gruesome death. The Messenger landed upon the massive forearm, its smoking gun aimed directly at the giant’s eye. In the briefest moment, as the Messenger squeezed the trigger again, a look of recognition spread on the giant’s face.
          With the speed of a jackhammer, the giant punched The Messenger with his other arm, sending it hurtling across the room and through the twin doors into a dark storage room. The bullet The Messenger fired left a hole in the wall behind the giant, a testament to the speed at which the smaller combatant flew from the blow.
          Taking the opportunity The Messenger gave him, Aleksei attempted to flee, but the huge man defied his size and moved in a blur, and stopped before Aleksei. The force of the motion, knocked the youth on his back. The giant stood over him with two fists held high. Scrambling with all his might, Aleksei tried to avoid the meteoric slam.
          The titan smashed down, centimetres from Aleksei’s waist, and the floor erupted in an explosion of debris. The force caused Aleksei to tumble back, ears ringing and head rattled. When he could stop himself, he felt the floor shift beneath him, and though the dust blocked his vision, he could hear that the floor was collapsing. In a mad, four-limbed scramble, he made for where he remembered the dark storage room was. He finally rose to his feet, and just as the floor began to slide down beneath him, he leapt, and tumbled through the swinging doors, and rolled on the linoleum.
          Once he regained his footing, he examined his surroundings. The room was extremely dark, with no windows.
          'If that thing has enhanced sight too, I’m in a boatload of trouble.'
          He composed himself long enough to beckon the moisture he had been using from the other room. It took significant concentration to extract the water vapour from the air and what had soaked into the dust and papers. But, in less than a minute, a fog bank flooded into the room, giving Aleksei the visibility he needed.
          'Now, to take care of his hearing…' With a deep exhale, he spun his wrists and wove his arms back and forth. Two miniature cyclones moved about, producing a low hiss. With a push, he sent them deeper into the room, where they split into four, producing more noise by rustling whatever loose material they came in contact with.
          Once satisfied, Aleksei darted into the shadows and crept his way to The Messenger.  His mist could feel its form amidst a jumble of knocked over boxes and shelving. He could feel breaths disturbing the thick fog screen, but he wanted to be certain it was not seriously injured.
          Aleksei’s heart beat in his ears, and he wondered if his cyclones were loud enough to cover it. As of yet, the giant had not invaded the room, causing him to wonder what he was waiting for, either that or the giant had fallen to the lower level and could not jump.
          After a couple moments of cautious crawling, Aleksei was within a metre of the cryptic being. He paused, uncertain of how he was going to ensure that his ally was well. He was not going to speak, knowing that the slightest sound might guarantee a makeshift missile through his skull.
          “Boy,” it hissed, surprising him, “He’sss above usss.”
          Aleksei looked up as the ceiling blew asunder.
~~~~~~~~~~
          Nyra’s blade danced as she assaulted her target, using every martial skill and acrobatic trick at her disposal, but still, she only succeeded inflicting minor surface wounds.  
          Mashka, though only versed in the basics of self-defence, was fast and reckless enough to avoid serious injury. Her golden eyes tracked Nyra's swift motions as she tried to formulate a strategy. Despite many hours of one on one instruction with Evan, he taught her how to deal with an opponent armed with a sword. Why would he given it is the twenty-first century?
          Still, she was learning her enemy. Nyra’s favourite targets were her wrists, upper abdomen, neck, eyes, and inside her thigh. Her enhanced senses and reactions made every attack seem much slower than it really was, giving Mashka time to formulate a plan to get rid of the blade, she just had to wait for the right moment.
          Once more Nyra tried for her eye, but this time Mashka was ready. Instead of backing away, she moved herself forward while bending her head to the side.  With one palm against both flats of the blade, her right towards the tip, the other towards the base, she pressed.  The extension blade snapped with ease.
          Nyra’s face flickered with astonishment.  From her perspective she had slashed, and her blade broke all by itself, her eyes had not even seen Mashka’s hands until after the act.  But she recovered quickly, snatching Mashka’s wrist, twisting it into a hold, and propelling her body so she could smash the smaller woman’s head against the wall.
          Mashka gasped as her head punched into the plaster, but her body moved despite her dazed state, spinning, breaking from the hold, and after a quick manoeuvre she landed a vicious kick to Nyra’s collar bone. The force of the kick caused Nyra to leave the ground, and hurtle into a row of cabinets some five metres away, denting them along their middle.
          Ignoring bruises and broken bones Nyra stood, drawing weighted knives and throwing them. Mashka, with near casual ease, caught all three.
          “Please,” the beast said darkly through Mashka’s lips, “I know that trick.”
          She stopped, feeling herself slip from her own body. She pulling back with all her will, forcing her teeth, and claws to recede, while trying to withstand the immense pain. She knew that was the beast’s ploy, somehow whenever it took over, her pain disappeared, making it so hard to fight against the instant relief. But she could bear even less the terror she felt from watching her body be used by something else.
          Nyra took advantage at the slight hint of her target’s resolve weakening. Now was the chance to slay her.
          Stuck with her own battle of wills, Mashka nearly forgot the battle at hand. Nyra was upon her. She tried lashing out, but the woman slipped past her, brought her fist up to crush her oesophagus and snap her neck in one blow.
          Mashka heard a scream, and she knew it as her brother’s, he was in trouble, and here she was, about to die. Blood splattered on her face, and the world was lost to her.
          Nyra gasped, and for the first time her face expressed a human level of emotion. She bent over as she was kneed viciously in the stomach. On the floor, she stared in shock at her right arm, or at least up to where her elbow used to be.
          “I’m finished with this amusement.” The beast spoke with almost bored disdain.
          Nyra watched as Mariya Sharova walked away. After a few paces she cast aside Nyra’s severed forearm as if it was nothing more than a tarnished rag and disappeared around the corner.

Episode Twenty Six:
La Vérité Douteuse

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          Océane bolted out of the school as fast as her braced leg would permit as her friend Janine watched her depart with a look of bewilderment.
           “Where are you going?” she asked.
          Waving back as she hurried down the steps, Océane replied, “It’s about my internship, I’ll tell you about it later!  Au revoir!”
          Janine shook her head in confusion, “Um, alright, I just need to tell you something.”  
Océane stopped briefly? “Oui, Janine?”
        “This weekend I’m going to Le Havre up north for a friend’s birthday, so our joint study will have to be over phone.”
          “Oh, that’s fine! You have fun!” Océane blew a kiss and waved and hurried to the curb side as the bus pulled up.
         Janine blew a kiss and waved back, happy to see her friend having fun with the internship.
         Océane fell into the closest seat on the sparsely loaded bus. All day she had planned what she was going to tell the Lieutenant and at last she decided. Judging by how Claire had not shown up to tell her otherwise, she could only assume her ghostly companion was on her side.
          Claire.
         Already she was thinking of her as a real person. She had given up explaining her away as a hallucination or delusion, there were only two possible explanations for being able to talk with the dead. Either Claire was a ghost or was someone else pretending to be her dead friend. And it did not matter anymore whether she was being visited by a shade of the past or an impostor, she was going to step forward into this new world. Because what she did to Renoir was real, the last few days were real, her power was real, should she question the dead girl speaking to her?
          All night she had dreamed of the gift granted her by Claire. Now she was ready to practice.
          She blinked and she was standing in an endless meadow, the sounds of the city a distant rumble in her mind. Her bare feet cushioned on the soft grass, free of shoes and the brace. An eternal white sky illuminated this temporary realm where all her ailments slipped away.
          “Glace,” she muttered, picturing Claire’s face in her mind. The transparent scythe blinked into her hands, refracting the light from above like a many faceted prism, causing rainbows to shimmer across the grass.
          Dozens of scattered mirrors rose from the ground, reflecting her appearance. She twirled the staff, its curved blade becoming near invisible with the movement. Twisting around, she spun the weapon from one hand to the other, over her head, behind her, and before her then jabbed and swiped at the air while keeping an eye on her form through the mirrors.
          Finally she made one last dramatic back-swipe and froze looking at her fiery gaze in the mirror. She blinked and she was back on the bus, the passengers around her oblivious to her momentary absence. Sweat beaded on her brow as her pace quickened. The thrill of power flowed through her. It frightened her. For the briefest of moments she considered how she could with so little effort throw the entire bus into terrified chaos, and no one would ever discover it was her.
          Excitement is was what she felt now, the fear quenched. She was not the same girl that cried in her bed last night in remorse for bringing justice to a wicked man. Why should she feel sympathy or fright? Did she not do a service to everyone around her? Did it matter that her reasons were merely a personal irritation at being plagued by a child’s nightmare? She re-imagined what she had done to Pierre, and what she could do to anyone else like him. The temptation tasted sweat.
         As the bus came to a halt and she rose from her seat, she found herself at a crossroads. She could do one of three things: Sit back down, return to normal life, and never think of Michael, Pierre, or Claire and just keep her power as her little secret; Go through with her meeting with Michael, conjure some form of a lie and insist on pursuing a career in law enforcement where she could experiment with her abilities with few moral consequences; Or lastly, tell Michael the truth, prove her abilities to him, and see whether he was smart enough to think of an answer for her.
          The first option vanished as she stepped off the bus, only a block away from the police station. The last two options she left to what felt best in the moment, she planned out what to say for both scenarios, but was content not to make decision until the moment she needed to. She lived most of her life imprisoned by her leg, so she was used to taking things slow.
          By the time she had finished her musings, she was in the lobby of the police station. She looked across the room through the glass panes and saw police, suspects, citizens and lawyers milling about. She spotted Michael, leaning back in his chair talking to Sarah. The latter lifted up a pile of paperwork from his desk which he had just finished.
          Océane smirked as she approached, imagining how awkward he sounded while faking a casual tone, in an attempt to hide his blatant affection for his co-worker. She entered the office, showing her internship badge to the policeman by the door who nodded in recognition.
          She greeted them. “Bonjour, Lieu. Michael, Sarah,”
          They both returned the greeting, and Sarah touched her shoulder in encouragement. “Océane, your intuition is good, Renoir confessed yesterday just out of nowhere. It must have been your and Michael’s visit to his workplace that shook him up.”
          “Oui, must have…” she replied awkwardly as Michael shot her a knowing look.
          “Sarah, I can finish up with Ms Lafayette, you have reports.”
      Sarah sighed and glanced at the teen, “A word of warning if you do pursue law enforcement as profession; it is not at all as exciting as the dramas make it seem.”
          “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, taking a seat on the edge of Michael's desk.
        Once they were alone, Michael only waited a few beats before asking, “So, you are going to tell me how you were involved with Renoir's confession.”
          She nodded.  “Oui, on one condition; don’t laugh.”
        The officer was thoroughly confused now, he had expected something more akin to ‘Am I going to be in trouble,’ or ‘don’t get angry.’  But laugh?  He relaxed a bit, knowing she might not have done anything as risky as he had thought. 
          “I will not laugh.”
          She sighed and began, “I knew Pierre did it, because…”
          Michael leaned forward very interested but waited for her to continue.
          “… I can see dreams.” She winced, knowing how insane she sounded.
          His eyes narrowed. “So, you are a psychic? Are you certain it was not just a memory?”
          'At least he is not laughing.' She sighed. “And I don’t just see people’s dreams, I can make dreams too.”
          It would have been difficult for Michael’s face to seem any more incredulous. “Listen, perhaps the excitement has gotten to you too much--”
          “Non! I’m serious, and I’m going to prove it.”
          He could not deny his curiosity, “Really? How?”
          'I have his interest.' She thought. To her satisfaction, serendipity smiled on her with the entrance of two police and an angry but subdued ruffian, the stench of alcohol assaulted her nostrils as he passed toward the cells at the back.
          “Him, he is going to shout and grab his arm.” she declared not even looking to see Michael’s doubtful stare. She focused on the man, reaching out and touching his bleary, sticky mind. She grinned when she found his fear and acted on it.
          The drunk did not know what came over him, but he felt a crawling sensation on his arm. He looked to see a seething mass of black spiders coating his sleeve and crawling up towards his face. He let out a gasp and shook his elbow but the police held tighter.
          He screamed at their grasp, feeling something wrong. “Stop squeezing!” he blurted out as he felt his flesh disintegrate. A black creeping mass fell away, and his sleeve fell limp, without an arm or a shoulder to support it, only a pile of spiders swarming on the floor. His head rolled back and he lost consciousness. The police shrugged, assuming he had merely succumbed to his intoxication.
          The Lieutenant squinted in suspicious disbelief. “You got lucky.” his voice betrayed doubt.
          Océane swallowed hard, knowing if she did not do something she was going to find herself admitted to a sanatorium. A faint smile touched the corners of her mouth. She had finally found a way into Michael’s near impenetrable mind.
          “I think you need to look around,” she suggested.
        Glaring at her with one eye he slowly looked away. His mouth dropped as he did. Everyone was still, caught in the middle of their actions like a photograph. In the corner a detective was pouring coffee, the liquid still like dark glass.
           “What’s happeni--?!”
         Océane raised a finger to her lips. “Hush! You don’t want people thinking you’re crazy, do you?” she asked with dry sarcasm. "Time is moving on for everyone else."
          “What’s going on?” he asked, lowering his voice.
          “I altered your perception of time with only yourself and myself as exceptions. At least I think that is what I did.”
          “You think?”
         She shrugged. “I am kind of new at this. But I saw that you have a focused mind, which means to your subconscious everything that is not in focus, stops moving. In brief, this is how I got Renoir to confess. I can control perceptions, or make illusions… or something like that, but whatever it is I do, it has to be based on something already in the person’s mind. Now, I’ll let you see everything as normal again, but you have to promise to tell no one. If I am crazy, then so are you.”
          “I promise!” He nodded furiously, his eyes betraying uncertainty, but not fear or anger.
          She sighed in relief. For a split second there was a flurry of blurred colours and everything was back as it was.
          Michael looked down at his desk in thought, then looked at her, and back at the desk. He was thinking of anyway to explain this, but he had not drunk or eaten anything recently, so he had not been drugged. Not that he even considered this girl capable of such things. There was only one thing he could do now; accept her story.
          “So, I guess that means you put Mr. Renoir through a nightmare.”
          She nodded hesitantly, “You don’t think I broke any laws? I suppose it could be called a form of assault.”
          He let out a nervous chuckle. “Not that I know of… yet. Even if there was a law, I don’t think anyone would take you to court.”
          “That is a relief. I didn’t feel good about it though.” she lowered her face forlornly.
      He gulped, looking around to see if there was anyone within hearing. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You don’t think there are more… people like you?”
          Océane looked in wonder at him. She had never thought about it. Were there others besides Claire and herself? It was hard for her to believe that she was the only one. But how would she go about looking? Would she want to look? She considered telling Michael about Claire, but shot the idea down. Then he would surely think her crazy.
          Taking the silence as her answer, Michael settled back into his seat. “Well, at least a cold case is solved. I can’t imagine how hard it has been for you, having those memories.”
          Océane shook her head. “They aren’t mine. I started dreaming about it three months ago. It’s someone else’s nightmare.”
          Michael’s eyes went wide as he turned to his computer and brought up a page. His stunned expression confused her.
          “What?”
        “The child of the victim, an eight year old boy, moved into the apartment two floors above you… three months ago. He lives with his father and stepmother.”
         Océane covered her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. “He would have been a toddler when-!”
          Michael stared at the girl in wonder. He kept trying to deny that what was happening was some strange dream, and he would wake up soon and it would all revert to normal. But those tears were real, what happened the last few days were real. Since all of it was so hard for him to accept, he wondered what it must have been like for her. To have such a weighty secret…
          He cleared his throat, getting her attention.  “Océane, you want to meet him, the boy, I mean?”
          She opened her mouth, but did not have an answer. 'How can that help?' she thought, 'Is digging up the past going to help him at all?'
          As if he too had mental powers, Michael continued. “You can’t bring back his mother. But couldn’t you at least put his mind at ease, that he’s not the only one who knows what happened that night?”
          He’s right… she nodded slowly.
          “Great, I’ll arrange a meeting tomorrow. You should probably go home now.”
          “Oui…” Océane rose and walked out of the office. Her face was frozen in worry. For three months she had been sharing a nightmare with a child, and she was not at all sure about meeting him.
          Absorbed in her thoughts as she walked out onto the sidewalk, she was completely unaware of the eyes watching her.
          “Is she the target?”
          “I don’t know, she’s one of four potentials.”
          “Four? That’s few enough, why don’t we just kill them all?”
          “I would tend to agree, but we’ll need approval first.”
          “True.”

Day Four: Vendredi
Friday, September 23rd

In darkness the moon blinks.
The glass sea hides the Watcher.
In desolation she sinks.
Obsidian claws catch her.

Episode Twenty Five
Toute Médaille A Son Revers

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The morning star rose in the night sky promising the coming dawn over Lyon.  But for one citizen of the quiet city, the solace of night-time had not even started. Océane tossed and turned under her duvet, shaking in fear at what she had done. She sat up and looked in the mirror and only upset herself more by seeing her own reflection. Claire was nowhere in the time of her greatest need.
          “What did I do?” she whispered through her trembling lips. “I had such power, and—” 'What if I permanently harmed him? Should I go to jail?'  She tucked herself deeper into the blankets, hoping that somehow she would find the comfort to heal all her conflicted thoughts.
       From beyond the window, golden dust crept across the glass, shimmering with iridescent lights and swirling in mesmerizing patterns. The particles froze before each speck passed through the glass, letting off thousands of prismatic sparks, illuminating the room. Once indoors, dust became flesh, wrapped in a white gown, standing beside the bed.
         Claire nodded in relief. 'It seems that Kerry’s inverse cannot completely cut me off from the outside.' Looking at Océane’s shuddering form she felt a wave of compassion as her own concerns melted away.
          She sat on the bed and lay on her side, reaching out with her hand, but then thinking better of it, she called soothingly, “Océane!”
        The girl tore off the blanket in surprise and her words erupted in a torrent while gesturing wildly. “Where have you been?! Am I one of those psychics like on tv? Does this mean some of those lunatics aren’t scam artists?” She slowed down as her mouth caught up with her brain and her eyes began to water. “D-did I do something wrong? I mean… I must have really hurt him. Pierre, he--”
           She was silenced by Claire’s embrace which felt so real even though Océane knew she was not actually there.
          Claire flicked aside her blond tresses to whisper in the girl’s ear. “Dearest Océane, you have done nothing wrong. If anyone is to blame, it is myself. I rushed you and pushed you to do something you regret.” She broke her embrace and shuffled up the bed so she sat hip to hip with Océane. “But I think its time you learned more about your power. Are you ready?”
          Océane sighed and wiped her eyes.  After a long pause, she nodded.
         Taking hold of her hand, Claire began, “You act as a bridge between a person’s dreams and reality. What happened to Pierre was you took his own secret dreams and thoughts and forced him to confront them. He hurt himself long ago-- you just took away the aspirin so he could feel the pain. Pain exists so a person knows something is wrong, but some people, like Pierre, learn to ignore that pain, and slowly their heart is consumed. Océane, you saved that man, he was sinking into rotten mire and did not even know it, and you pulled him out.”
          Océane nodded.  “I… don’t understand...”
          Claire was about to continue something distracted her.
          “Is something wrong?” Océane asked.
          “What? No! Your power?” She raised her hand in front of her and a glass rod grew into existence, resting in her palms and an eighty centimetre crystal blade grew out of one end. “See this scythe?”
          “Oui, it was the one I used to chase Pierre.”
          “Just like you use a brush on a canvas, use this as your tool. I do not want you do get so fully absorbed into the minds of other’s like yesterday. Just think of me and the word, glace, and this blade will be in your hand.”
         “Why are you giving me this?”
          “Because you will need it, I don’t know when, but soon.”
          “You’re scaring me Claire!”
          “I don’t mean to, dearest friend. So now, go to sleep and tonight you will dream of how to use this blade.”
          “I don’t think I can sleep,.”
        Claire smiled and lay down on her side extend her hand on the mattress between them.  “Hold my hand and you will sleep.”
        Nodding and following her instructions Océane lay down and looked into Claire’s sapphire eyes. Within moments her eyelids became heavy and she drifted off into peaceful sleep.
        Claire smiled at her peaceful face and leaned in, planting a kiss on her forehead.  Suddenly her eyes grew wide in surprise and she vanished from the bed.
         In and instant The Apparition found herself strapped in place within the beachside parlour, with Dr. Kerry leaning over her. His electric blue irises with tri-pointed pupils sparkled in glee over a toothy, sadistic grin.
          He let out a brief giggle before speaking. “I’m impressed. Even through my barriers you were able to travel back to your host body for a while. Too bad that you still have a narrow strand of your soul still connected to her!”
       The Apparition through her disgust cocked an eyebrow, not understanding his statement. 'A string?'
          “…because, I can see it, and where it goes!” Kerry cheered.
          Her eyes widened briefly at her misstep and then glared. “Touch her and—”
          “Oh you stop,” Kerry pouted, “too little too late for you! My godlike sight granted me a glimpse of your vessel. To think the mighty Apparition has been hiding inside a little French schoolgirl all this time! What did you promise her? An answer to all her problems? Her deepest wish perhaps? It doesn’t matter. She is my next experiment.” He raised his hand. “That is, once I’m finished with you.” He thrust his hand down as it was surrounded by a blue glow.
          The Apparition stared down to see Kerry’s fingers penetrate her abdomen up to the knuckles. She lurched in pain as he moved his fingers around, seeking something within her entrails, but she did not scream.
          “You rephaim believe yourselves to be invincible, but just like humans, you have organs too, one in fact…” He grunted as he forced his fingers further up her gut. “…is the key to your powers.”
          The Apparition let out a gurgling scream as he ripped his hand out, leaving strands of clear fluid dripping from his fingers onto her white dress which now had and oblong hole in the middle. Immediately her body began to close up the wound and the dress repair itself but after a moment the process ceased. Flesh and fabric shuttered, being unable to finish their regeneration.
          In Kerry’s hand squirmed a silver, vaguely crescent shape lump of flesh that twisted and jerked as if trying to make its way back into its body.
          He looked down at The Apparition face, amused by her expression of pain, confusion, and fear. “You have heard it said, ‘A healthy mind in a healthy body,' but so few understand how interchangeable those terms are if you depart from the environment in which they reside. A soul cannot be measured, the mind is the expression of the soul for which the body is a house of flesh. But if one travels to another plane, the pattern shifts. Here, the soul is made flesh.” He raised his hand that held the writhing organ. “You don’t even know what I’m holding do you? This is the part of your body responsible for your constant regeneration, also it contains a parasitic, DNA-like substance that once I consume it, will alter my own soul structure.”
          The Apparition cried out in terror.  “No!  Stop!”
        He lifted the grey lump to his lips, and after a brief sniff he opened his mouth and slurped it up like a fruit, the grey organ squirming and leaping violently, attempting to escape his teeth.
          She turned her face, unable to bear watching him chew what was once a part of her. She found herself staring towards the face of the repha beside her. He had turned his head in mild curiosity of what was happening. His knowing gaze told her exactly what had happened to him.
          She winced at the sound of a sickening gulp from behind her, followed by a silence.  A few moments later Kerry shrieked, causing her to turn her head back to see him. He was holding hand to his narrow chest and another to his belly. His eyes were bulging out as he let out a scream of agony. Blue and golden light leapt from his mouth as he lurched in pain. He tumbled, falling to his hands and knees, bringing him to eye level with her.  He grinned as sweat beaded on his brow.
          “Don’t look so shocked. It’s painful for the soul to change so fundamentally, it should be, should it not?”
          Kerry found enough strength to move and made a frantic stumble through the door at the opposite end of the room, seeking solitude as he went through his transformation.
         'Is he mad?!' The Apparition wondered, straining against her bonds. 'Does he even know what he is doing?' She lurched in agony as her body tried to close the wound but failed, trapped in the unending cycle of spiritual decay and renewal.
~~~~~~~~~~
          Trudging his way through the deep, midwinter snow, Vladimir finally caught eye of the glow from his house’s windows reflecting off the smooth white blanket covering their yard. A few more steps and he could see the front of his house. The air was well below freezing, but he was unperturbed wearing a t-shirt and thin jeans, his skin not even colouring from the cold. He sighed in relief, steam escaping through his lips and scalding the evergreen branches hanging low by his face. The fragrance of pine resin filled the air.
          “Oops!” he muttered.
          Two weeks past he had changed, and he was still adjusting to it, and his father seemed bewildered by what his son could all of a sudden do. It started on an unusually sunny day while he was chopping firewood. The sun felt pleasant on his back, the heat tickling his skin with a peculiar excitement, not unlike the thrill when Nati, a girl from school, hugged him the first time. When he lowered the axe handle there was a pair of charred handprints in the polished maple staff. In the days following he found that he could drastically change temperatures with no more effort than a breath, a wave or a touch. After a few minor accidents, he figured out how to control himself, but every now and then he would fail in his vigilance.
          He noticed the blue van parked beside his father’s sedan.
         'Is it someone from Dad’s job?' The sound of voices from inside seemed to confirm his suspicion.
          He shrugged and stomped off the snow on his boots on the porch steps then opened the door. He was about to call out but something in the air felt wrong. The voices came to an abrupt halt after he entered and there was a sudden shuffling noise.
          Vlad decided against removing his shoes, and instead closed the door lightly behind him and crept to the open coat closet opposite the door. He put his ear to the wall and heard whispers.
          “I thought I heard something.”
          “I’ll go check.”
          There was a muffled cry that Vlad recognised as his father, cuing him that and he was in the kitchen with the strangers. He wanted to dash out and take all three, maybe four of the intruders down, but his gut told him these were not ordinary home invaders.
          Steps neared and he pressed himself deeper into the dark corner behind the coats he no longer used. A tall man walked into view, wearing dark clothing and what looked like a black police vest but there was no agency name appliquéd on the back. He kept his back to the closet and glanced at the door.
          Vlad realised that he left a trail of melted snow to his hiding place, causing his guts to squirm in terror. But to his relief the man never looked down, but turned back towards the kitchen allowing Vlad to catch sight of his dark hair and prominent Greek nose.
          'Who are these people?'
         He heard voices in the kitchen again, this time a woman with a foreign accent speaking as if she was on the phone.
        “Yes? Good… so he is coming home? Perfect.” there was a light beep and Vlad imagined her pressing the ‘end call’ button on her cellphone.
          “Kill him. The boy will be here soon.” she stated with a regal air.
        Vlad burst out of the closet. He dashed down the hall hearing his father plead for mercy. He arrived at the doorway as Greek Nose slid his knife along the side of his father’s neck. Blood spattered on the floor.
          “Stop!” Vlad wailed.
          The woman and a third man immediately raised their guns at the boy, their cold gaze flickered in recognition of their target.
          On instinct he crossed his arms in front of his face and widened his stance in Systema form. Gunshots rang and Vlad expected to feel shards of metal ripping through his body.  However when he looked up a ring of flame confronted him as it licked at the floor, walls and ceiling of the kitchen.
          The guns in the strangers hands lay on the floor a heap of ruined metal and bubbling plastic. The man and woman both lay still on the ground, covered in burns and scorched clothing.
         Greek Nose attacked with his knife. Vlad stepped closer with shocking speed. He deflected the blade that was closing in on his throat, instead allowing it to slice through the muscles on the back of his forearm. His hand closed around his assailant’s arm as he moved to hurl him to the ground, but he heard his father sputter on the floor, tied to the knocked over chair.
          “Dad?  Are you alright?!” he asked.
         His distraction gave Greek Nose enough time pry loose from Vlad’s hold and take a better position.
          Jostled back to attention Vlad looked back at his opponent and to his surprise the man was screaming. At first he was confused and then he realised what he had done when the man fell silent and a chorus of crackles filled the air. The man fell over like a knocked down statue, his body frosted over after all the heat has been drawn into Vlad’s hand.
          Vlad screamed and backed away as every surface in the room blossomed into an inferno. Collecting himself, he turned to get his father out.
          Unfortunately for him, he failed to notice that the woman had survived the initial searing and though she lay covered in second degree burns, she mustered enough strength to pull the pin out of a round grenade.
          “Die freak!” she screamed letting it roll towards the unsuspecting youth.
          The world was all white as Vlad woke, white and cold. He raised his head and realised he was looking at a depression in the snow made by his face. He looked up and through the underbrush he caught sight of a pink coloured sky. At first he was lost in confusion and wondered what was going on. Then the song bird’s calls tickled his ears reminding him of the ringing sound in them.
          It’s morning? he wondered. He tried to move his arms in from their splayed out position to lift him up, but they were uncooperative. His heart skipped as the scene in the kitchen began to come back to him. 'Dad!' 
          Ignoring his pain and deadness of his limbs he rose as quick as a windup toy, his gaze roaming around him only seeing trees. He turned and his breath gelled in his throat. He gaped at the sight of his house over thirty metres away, little more than a pile of ashes.
          “Dad!” he screamed through hyperventilating breaths. He ran through the snow towards the house. He reached the edge of the thawed ground around what remained of the building and slowed his pace.
        As he walked around the perimeter, he noticed the gleam of a soot covered sink marking where the kitchen had been. He eyed the rubble, noticing three disturbed areas where the intruders had fallen, though no bodies were there now and the van was gone.
          Then he saw him, the black, charred skeleton bent as if still tied to the metal chair.  Vlad’s knees buckled beneath him and he tumbled to all fours on the baked dry ground. When his shuddering and vomiting ceased many minutes later, his weeping began, a piercing cry in the midst of the woods where no one could hear his plight.
          He leaned back and sat, his ankles freeing his hand from his weight. Through tear-blurred eyes he looked at his palms which glowed as one exuded heat and the other drew heat in. He made them like twin white stars and pressed them to his face to end his pain.  But he felt nothing but his hands touching his face while brilliant flames erupted in a pillar above and around him, searing and freezing all they touching but leaving his body and clothes undisturbed by the slightest feeling of heat or cold.
~~~~~~~~~~
          Vladimir woke with a start. His eyes darted around the dark and tiny room. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed. He needed fresh air.
          Pausing only long enough to put on his shoes, he ventured out of his room and down the hall. He reached the door to the roof access stairs and pushed it open, lumbering up the steps as if he were still asleep. He opened the door at the top and a gust of wind blew against him, but as usual he had no sensation of hot nor cold as the air flowed through his cotton t-shirt.
          He began an exhilarating stretch when he noticed his brother gazing out at the distant London lights. He cupped his hand and pale light shown between Vlad’s fingers as he considered freezing Aleksei on the spot, but without much thought, he relented. He would gain nothing from such a cheap shot.
          He turned and descended back down the stairs while he shook his head in disgust. He was about to slam the door shut behind him when a noise caught his attention. Looking back he noticed his brother’s heaving shoulders and his arms raised to his face wiping his eyes.
          Aleksei was sobbing.
         An unwanted memory sprung into Vlad’s mind. In first grade he had dislocated his arm after falling from his bike with friends. After he had risen from his fall and tried to hide his pain, it was Aleksei who came by his side, draped an arm around his shoulders and hurried him to help, crying himself even though he was unhurt. In a past life, he would have done the same were the roles reversed. But those days were gone, so he walked away, like he did the last time he saw his brother’s sorrow, on that fateful afternoon when their shared life ended.
          Aleksei covered his mouth as he cried into his arm, unaware of the intrusion. Many conflicting sentiments brought on the tears, but fear was the strongest. Mere hours ago he was confronted with the face of death, first his brother, who he was not entirely sure on his intent, but the doubt was awful enough, and second the SICA agent whose intent could not be clearer. He could only wonder what he had done to be now marked for death? What force gives people the desire to kill others? His brother knows the desire, and just recently his own sister took a life to save his.
          But he could forgive his sister, he would have done the same for her, but it did not make the man’s rattling last breath any easier to forget. And the thought that someone, somewhere was lifting a voice in grief compelled him to grieve with them. He fell to his hands and knees, weary from weeping and he forced himself to sigh in surrender.
          He was alive, his sister was alive and they had found Vladimir.  As long as they all survived this…
          Tears sprang anew from his brown eyes and dropped onto the flat roof.  'I’m so scared, God, I’m scared! I feel like at any moment I want to just run.' “I’m such a coward, I don’t want to die!”
          “No one wissshesss to die, child.” answered a raspy voice.
          Aleksei’s heart nearly jumped into his throat as he fell back into a sitting position. It took him all his strength not to gasp in fright at the sight of the hooded Messenger crouched on the low wall encircling the roof. It hopped down, standing a few metres away and hunched over.
          It spoke again, “Even I fear death and cleave to life, though I am the lowessst pariah. You, child, have much to grasssp hold of.”
         The evening breeze rushed across the roof and rustled the creature’s loose dark clothes, causing it to appear both emaciated and small, and great and foreboding all at once. Aleksei gulped and wiped his eyes dry and stared back at The Messenger. He was absolutely confounded why the normally silent being was talking now. 'Is it trying to… comfort me?'
          He was about to speak but the dark figure vanished. For a moment Aleksei thought it had just said its piece and left. But then the hairs on his neck stiffened, more than they already had, and he knew he was not alone.
        The next few seconds were a maelstrom. He twisted his body to dodge a barely perceivable movement in the darkness. Punching out twice he felt his fists brush by some cloth. Then he jumped back, performing a barrel roll and allowing his movement to boost his activated power. He landed his back to the closed door and raised his hands before him and rotating them inwards causing vapour to be extracted from the air and form in a cyclonic wall. The Messenger, however, was too fast and burst through the mist, its hand reaching for Aleksei’s face. In a rapid shift of strategy, Aleksei used the spiralling mist he had gathered and ushered it strike The Messenger from both sides, causing its attack to miss and allowing him to snatch its wrist. Then Aleksei brought the creature into a hand-lock but it did not last long. The thing acted as though it no bones and twisted around on its back kicking Aleksei in his side with a leg that should not have been able to bend in that direction. Aleksei surrendered to the blow to avoid injury and tumbled a few metres to the right. He regained his stance in one fluid motion, ready for more.
          Fog swirled around him and he glared at The Messenger, daring it to try something again, now that he had enough water to make a difference.
          The Messenger let out a sickening spell of coughs which Aleksei eventually realised was laughter.
          “What is up with you?!” he demanded.
       The hood shook and behind the void where the thing’s face should be Aleksei could hear a tongue licking lips, or mandibles, whatever the creature had for a mouth.
      Once the creature recovered from its mirth, it spoke up through rasps. “I find it humorousss how you called yourssself a coward. A coward’sss first reaction isss to run, but here you are, ssstanding your ground, glaring at me with the fire of a warrior!”
          Aleksei was stunned from both The Messenger’s attempt to encourage him, and that he felt sort of flattered. He squinted into the darkness to catch sight of it but the creature had already left. The youth shuddered, wondering how it could disappear without him seeing any movement. He looked out at the awakening city for a few more moments before walking back toward the stairs to catch a couple of hours more sleep before...
          'Come to think of it, what are we doing next?' The thought puzzled Aleksei. They could not just stay with The Association after all they had done, but when were they parting ways? 'We can’t go home either, not with SICA on the prowl. Where are we going?'

     At the back of the empty hangar there was a large window that looked down from a control room on the second floor where two technicians gazed at the vessel in marvel while fanning themselves from the Nevada summer heat. The first, a swarthy southeast Asian woman said, “She’s beautiful, who could have built her?”
     “That’s what concerns us the most, you know? Who built her? And why did they crash in Arizona?” the second who spoke with a slight southern drawl was a man with jet black defiantly wavy hair and obvious Italian features. He looked everything like he could have been a mobster in his past life, however, one look at his rectangular glasses, narrow shoulders, and slight build made the initial impression seem impossible.
     With the help of a crane the aircraft was lowered to the floor from the back of the truck. The dust had all been blown off in the ride and the hull gleamed pure white. There were a few scorched and corroded areas at the front nose and along the base but otherwise it was alabaster. The front windows gleamed as scratch-less mirrors. The only place the dirt still was present was jammed into the engines in the small wings on the two sides.
   “I just want to get inside her.” The lady stated excitedly.
     Her companion cocked his eyebrow at her verbiage, but he decided to let it go this time. “It’ll be interesting I’m sure, but it has got to be searched first so we don't end up with some nasty self-destruct mechanism or booby trapped or maybe just collapse and crush--”
     “Thank you, Mr. Sunshine.” she replied in annoyance.
~~~~~~~~~~
     While the vessel was settled into the hangar, Major O’Dell stood in an adjacent meeting room. The major had changed into combat fatigues and stood before a room of a five similarly outfitted airmen.
     “We will enter the door on the left side of the vessel.  It will be pried open by the engineers using the hydraulic claw.  On entering, secure the parameter and…” He paused before he continued; drilling the last phrase into their minds, “don’t touch anything.  Are there any questions?”
     The room echoed with a resonating, “No sir.” The airmen went to the armory to gear up. Each grabbed a P90, ammunition, a handgun, as well as non-lethal weapons such as smoke grenades, and tasers.
     Kevin entered the armory. Since he was wearing his class A's it was obvious he was not part of the operation, “Ah! Sir, we’re ready when you are…” He paused when he noticed him loading darts into an air gun, “…are, are you expecting to find something alive in there?” he said speaking incredulously.
     “If the ship survived, it wouldn’t be outside of reason to assume the crew did?”
     “I guess so, but if there were survivors, wouldn’t they have tried to communicate by now?”
     “That’s what concerns the guys up the ladder. We have no information, anything could be in there. That is why they placed it at the farthest out hangar, so that if it is giant box of explosives it hopefully will not harm the rest of the base.”
     “Hmm…” his face expressed concern. “Well I came to give you the camera for your helmet.” he paused then said, “Good luck Mac.”  Then as if a new thought crossed his mind, he said cheerfully, “Well, see you later!”
     The major tied his boots shaking his head. 'In a hurricane that kid would comment on the cool summer breeze.'
     “Mac” as Kevin called him was a reference to his middle name, Mackenzie, he had gotten it back when he was a scoutmaster in Florida. The major as a kid always hated his middle name, but the nickname had grown on him. Of course only Kevin ever used it, and was probably the only one who knew him by the nickname on base.
     Mac and his squad arrived in the hangar, approaching with weapons at ready. There were two technicians prepared to operate the hydraulic claw. The airmen advanced from the back of the ship and kept close to the side of the vessel. The two engineers jammed the contraption into a hairline crack on the side of the ship. When the major gave the cue, one of them turned on a motor and the contraption in the crack began to come apart like a crescent wrench, pushing the crack wider. Once it was wide enough for a hand the two technicians departed and two of the airmen placed their hands in the gap and pulled. The door slid open easily and two soldiers came behind and raised their weapons into the darkness shining their lights. One of them gestured to the major that he did not see any threats. When the major gave permission, all but two of the airmen entered in pairs. The remaining would be the rear guard. The first room they entered seemed to be a bridge.
     As they entered they all reeled from the stench. No one knew what the smell was until one of them walked to the head of the cockpit. “They had a rough ride.” the airman said shining his light towards the two, small, crumpled male corpses lying on top of what were probably the flying controls in the very front of the vessel.
     The major walked from where he was studying another console in the middle of the room and looked them over. “We have two corpses here. Middle aged males; small only about, what, hundred-fifty centimetres tall? They appear to have been thrown against the front windows, I assume a result of the crash.” Mac buzzed over the radio.
     Sergeant Cassidy replied, “We’ll send some medics to pick them up.”
     “They are going to want masks, they have started to decay.”
     Kevin who was standing next to Cassidy watching the footage grimaced, “Gross!”
     Kevin glanced at Cassidy and asked, “Are you alright? You‘re looking a little green. Is it the motion of the camera or decaying matter? Of course it could be that sausage in the mess hall, it seemed a little under cooked to me.”
     Cassidy put a finger telling him to stop and hurried out of the room saying he had forgotten something in the lab. Kevin smiled mischievously as he took Cassidy’s more comfortable seat in front of the monitor.
     They found a door at the back of the room. “It looks like we’ll need the hydraulics again.” the major grabbed his radio. He was about to call for the engineers when he heard a sliding sound and noticed everything become brighter as the room was filled with a sound like a yawn of a large animal. He looked down at the controls in front of him and they were all coming to life.
     He whirled around to see the once closed door open and all the lights on, “Who touched what?!” the major hissed as he scooted to the side and against the wall. All the airmen were lined along the wall, weapons raised to the open door.
     “Sir, I think it was me, I walked by and it all just came on.” one of the airmen said.
     They remained still, not breathing. The major gave the order to enter with caution. They entered in and quickly checked all entrances. The room appeared to be a commodities area. It was about seven metres long and five metres wide. There was a table and chairs to the left, and behind those was a group of comfortable looking seats next to a large cabinet in the left wall. There were also more cabinets set into the walls wherever they could fit. On the right there were three more doors.  The major ordered a few airmen to search those.  The rest checked around looking for any other possible exits. O’Dell nudged the furniture with his boot and noted how they seemed unharmed and were built directly into the floor.  
     An airman crept over to him, “Uh, sir, I think you should see this.” he whispered.
     By his tone the major could tell his subordinate was unsure about what he found. The middle door on the wall opened for them and they walked in. The other two airmen nodded down to a bed set into the wall. The body short boy, probably in his early teens, lay on the bed looking as though he was sleeping. The major glanced up at the airmen's unbelieving faces than stepped closer and dropped on one knee. He bent his head down to hear something. He heard a breath.
     The major turned to the airman, “Get the medics, he’s alive.”
     “Yes sir!” The airman hurried out.
     The major turned back to the boy. How could he have survived? He asked himself.
     A doctor and nurse came in quickly with a crash cart and checked him for injuries.
     “He seems to be fine, no broken bones from what I can tell, probably a concussion though.” the doctor said. “Alright, let’s get him moved!”
~~~~~~~~~~
     In the Vesya Principality on the humid planet Sepho, The Royal Navy Interstellar Control Centre was packed with personnel of various fields. The Yasha would be arriving any moment now. In another room a large screen was ready to show the ship enter into orbit and land. Generals from various imperial nations were present and the mood was very jubilant.
     One of the generals stood and proposed a toast, “I dedicate this praise not only to the Yasha project, but also to the astounding cooperation we have had to make it possible. We will surely overcome our enemies. The Amori Republic has been greatly endowed with your trust, trust that has not been misplaced.
     “Also I toast to Vesya Principality,” he said tilting his head to the much older Vesyan general, “May your prince’s line never fail.” The other general nodded in thanks.
     And finally,” he cleared his throat and placed an extra amount of respect into his voice, “to the one person who unites all, the glorious Nerín! For whose honour we shall fight to our deaths!”
     A cheer erupted after the last phrase till it was silenced when an officer rushed in. “The Yasha will be approaching momentarily.”
     The generals took there seats and watched the screen as the final timer started up. The room was quiet up until the timer ran out. Nothing happened, there was no ship. The silence hung ominously for what seemed like an eternity. The Amori general rushed out of the room, and then all the others hastened to contact their governments. When the Amori general made it to the control centre he saw the room in chaos, everyone was shouting orders and scans were being run. Ships were being sent out to search. There was no sign of the Yasha. She simply was not there.
     The Amori general looked out into the distance. He would be sent to Ramala, the Nerín will more then likely call for all her generals. It would be a very unhappy meeting with the empress.
~~~~~~~~~~
     With the craft being completely secured, the technicians now had full range of the vessel and were buzzing around it like an opened hive. The operations were being spearheaded by the skinny Italian technician and the swarthy Asian engineer. The latter had lost her awestruck expression; instead her face was locked in fierce concentration. She sat hunched over the control console in the middle of the bridge. It had a rather comfortable chair, now cleansed of blood and viscera and the controls seemed to be no more complicated than most equipment she worked with. But what frustrated her was that everything was in an unknown script. The characters were smooth and tended to be rounded and probably would be seen as quite elegant, if she could read it.
     She was starting to recognize some of the symbols and she had counted them all, one-hundred, with dozens more that looked to be an entirely different script which appeared rarely.  Many of them were no different from another but for a simple added line, dot, or curl. She was no language master; but growing up in an immigrant family she spoke Vietnamese more often than English as a girl so she posited that perhaps this language, like Vietnamese, has marks and dashes to change the sound of a letter slightly, that was her best guess anyway.
     She did admire how the controls were not just made for functionality but also for beauty and comfort. The various controls had colourful glowing letters, probably to help the user to quickly identify a function and would change colours to get the user’s attention The southern technician entered and inquired “How is Ahn doing on her studies?”
     She was annoyed how he often used her last name in the third person when talking to her, and he probably new that. She replied somewhat saucily, “How is Picini doing, did you have a nap?”
     “I’ll have y’ know, I’ve been working hard.” he retorted.
     “And what wonderful discovery did you make when you were napping- I mean working?”
     “I am tracking a radioactive signal.”  He answered casually.
     She bolted up, “What radioactive signal?!”
     “Chill! I just had a hunch that it might detect this thing’s energy source.  It appears to have some sort of nuclear marker,”
     “That is impossible; they screened this place for radiation.”
     “Yeah they did but they were looking for radiation at dangerous levels. When I entered the ship I noticed that the radiation was higher in here than it is in the hangar. It’s not much but it gets higher in some places than in others. I‘m hoping this will help me find the power source.”
     She stood up and took the small black box and looked at the needle on the face. She walked to the back of the room and through the door to the commodities area.  
     “What do y‘ think you‘re doing?”  Picini asked indignantly.
     “On one of the displays it showed diagrams. It looked like veins running through a transparent image of the ship. I assume they are power conduits, and if I am right they come together back here.”
     The needle continued to slightly rise as she approached the back of the ship till she stopped at the very back wall.  She ran her hands down it.
     “What‘re you trying to do?”
     “One of the veins ran down to this area, I assume to a key pad or a door.” She pressed a section of the wall in a little and it popped forward revealing a key pad of sorts. “These are numbers; I was starting to recognize some of them. This spiral with a diagonal line above it is a zero. It seems to be used as a place holder as in Arabic numerals. They also have a decimal system; I was starting to recognize that too. There appears to be twelve different digits, each one a modified letter with a little horizontal dash above them connecting one number to the next, so that would explain this key board.”
     “That’s nice, I’m sure, but it obviously requires a combination.”
     Annoyed with his playing down of her discovery, she pointed out another thing, “But according to these reading the energy source should be right behind this panel.” She smiled and cocked her head proudly.
     “Then I’d best go report our findings to the General.”
     Ahn kicked herself mentally how she had given an excuse for him to get out of work and give his own story. Yes she did purloin his Geiger counter to make the discovery but he would be sure to say little of what she did. Oh well, she thought to herself, I’ll take credit next time.

     The block shaped primary school loomed before Vladimir like a behemoth glaring down at him with a dozen window shaped eyes. Before him it’s maw opened and warm air rushed out and caressed his face like the breath of a beast. The six year old took a stumbling step back. He opened his mouth to shout out for his mother.
     “Vova!” A voice called from beside him.
     He looked to see his mirror image staring back at him with big brown eyes.
     Vladimir shook his head in fear.  “No, Lyosha!  I’m sc-,”
    Aleksei thrust his hand out and Vlad took hold of it. “Don’t worry,” Aleksei’s mouth opened into one of his toothy grins. “Let’s go at the same time.”
    He could feel how clammy his smiling brother’s hand was. 'Is he scared too?' he wondered, unable to imagine his brother frightened of anything but Mashka’s grizzled cat. Vlad nodded and hesitantly turned his face forward. He squeezed Aleksei’s hand and the many eyed giant before him didn’t seem so scary anymore and the big toothy mouth was only a non-threatening glass door through which drifted the scents of paper and chalk. Like a couple of toy soldiers, the twins marched up to the door and together they pushed it open, entering into their first day of school, hands together and faces smiling.
~~~~~~~~~~
     At last Vladimir somehow commanded his stunned muscles to move. His hand gripped his brother’s weakening grasp. He was not thinking, but reacting to what had once always been. His brother’s pulse quickened and his deathly weakness fell away as he squeezed back.
     His feelings were no longer under his control as a wave of relief rushed over Vladimir. The hint of a smile crept over his face as he looked back at his brother’s weary grin.  
     Aleksei opened his mouth to speak but another voice interrupted his.
     “Sorry lads.”
     Both of them turned to see a riot helmet and Kevlar clad SICA agent, his automatic rifle directed at them. Vlad’s normal demeanour returned like bolt of lightning. He cursed himself for dropping his guard, knowing he just made his final mistake.
      The agent’s finger pressed on the trigger.
~~~~~~~~~~
     In the distant corner of the warehouse, the three remaining SICA agents let out terrified screams, cut short by the gruesome sounds of their bodies being mangled in ways the listeners could only imagine from their poor vantage point. A black stain spread across the floor and Dániel emerged amidst his companions, inky essence running off his body.
     He looked at Bruno and Evan.  “Where are the others?”
     “Mashka, Kerry and Anya are securing the boys and the van.”
     The Czech nodded and hurried towards the office where a cautious Ravi emerged.
     “SICA will have a fleet of vehicles to give chase.” Bruno added.
      Evan nodded and walked towards the door.
     “Where are you going?”
     “To stop their pursuit before it starts.”
     “How?”
     As a thunderous roar rattled the shelves Evan replied, “I have cards in reserve.”  
     He launched into the air, the corrugated steel roof blossoming as a twisted flower letting a beam of light in just large enough for the man to shoot through and into the sky. As soon as he was through the roof, Evan spun, directing himself towards where he could see the SICA motor pool. Flipping head over heels, he ended his brief flight and landed at the end of the near perfectly aligned row of dark blue vehicles.
     How convenient of them, he thought seeing their orderly parking. He braced and raised a hand.
     The few agents guarding the fleet were caught unprepared for someone dropping from the sky.
     Evan gave them no heed, taking the brief moment he would be there to focus solely on focusing his power to his hand. He released the kinetic force, initially in a wide cone but narrowed it to a narrow blast. A hole blasted through the side of the first vehicle’s engine block and progressed through the entire row in a ripple, followed by a second ripple as the automobile’s front halves burst asunder from the kinetic shock, scattering the SICA agents as they ducked for cover from the shrapnel.
     The recoil of producing the blast hit Evan harder than he could have anticipated, flinging him back with a cry, flipping round and round, past the buildings, and barely missing the dock railing as he hurtled to the sea. He regained control just before he would have made a lethal impact with the water and took off into the sky towards his rendezvous with the Sharovs.
~~~~~~~~~~~
     Anya screwed on the silencer to her handgun as she slinked to the next cover spot. Pressing herself against the wall she waved for Mashka to follow. They had split ways with Dr. Kerry, who was more than capable of keeping himself safe and he said that he needed to rescue some sensitive materials from falling to SICA.
     Mashka nodded as Anya signed out her next moves, which she could only guess meant that the latter was going to hurry to the corner, shoot three targets, and then signal for her to follow, struggling to remember Evan’s lessons.
    She still could not believe she was in this situation, nor could she believe how comfortable the gun grip felt in her hand. 'It’s not as though I’m completely new to this.' She reasoned. 'Besides, any discomfort is worth protecting Aleksei.'
     She heard the silenced shots from Anya’s weapon followed by the sickening thuds of three bodies to the ground. Anya gave the signal to follow.
     With gun poised, ready to swing into action at any moment, she followed Anya around the corner. They stepped over one of the bodies just as he released a startling death rattle. Mashka grit her teeth, squelching her revulsion, assuring herself she would have all the time she needed to break down later. She followed close behind Anya into the dark warehouse. Immediately she could tell there were five people besides herself and Anya by the scent of five distinct, human male pheromones.
     Copying Anya exactly, she stopped at each row between the shelves and pointed her gun down it, ready to come face to face against an enemy.
     And then she distinctly heard a man speak, a hint of sorrow in his voice.
     “Sorry lads.”
    She turned, her eyes transforming fully to their large feline pupils, making the warehouse seem as bright as a summer day. She took in it all in but a moment. Through the shelves she could see her brothers on the floor, and twenty paces away from them and a few dozen metres right in front of her was an armed member of SICA, weapon poised to fire.
     She let out a beastly shriek that rattled her throat. The man turned his head just in time to find himself watch the bullets pour from the barrel. Mashka ran forward as she repeatedly pulled the trigger until by the time she stood over his body the clip was empty. She panted as blood pounded through her veins. Her eyes were locked on his face, which was now fully exposed since she had shot his helmet off.
     'He looks so… normal…' she thought as she stared at him.  'what-, what did I just do?'
     “Mashka?!”
    Her brother’s laboured cry snapped her out of her shock. She turned and saw her brother stuck under a shelf. She stomped over and grabbed the heavy metal shelf with one hand flipped it over as though it was nothing more than a mattress.  
     “Are you alright Aleksei? Is anything broken? Are you hurt?” By the end of her rush of words she had switched from English to Russian and back to something in between.
     He answered her statements in order given, “Niet; I don’t think so; and da.” He rubbed his hands through his frazzled chestnut hair and attempted to sit up, the trickles of blood on his face running a new direction.
     “I feel like a bus hit me,” he moaned, “but I fared better than that guy you did in over there.” As soon as the words slipped from his mouth Aleksei regretted them, he turned his bleary gaze to Mashka’s red-specked face.
     She shuddered, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Let’s get out of here!” She reached down to grab both of the twins’ shoulders and pulled them up with ease.
     Once Aleksei was up he nearly fell over again. “Oj!  I think I sprained my ankle.”
     Mashka rested his left arm over her shoulder then gave Vlad a “help-me-now” glare.
    Vlad complied more quickly than he intended. His sister’s familiar authoritative gaze with her disturbing new eyes proved a persuasive combination. The three of them half jogged to the door to find The Association’s green van idling with Anya at the wheel.
     “Wasn’t this a different colour?” Aleksei asked.
     Vlad rolled his eyes. “Ever heard of peel-off paint?  Get in!”
    With a quick boost Aleksei was in a seat followed by Mashka and Vlad, once again the twins found themselves side by side for sake of celerity.
     “You in?” Anya asked, not waiting for an answer as she hit the gas, pressing the three Sharovs into the back of their seats.
     “Where’s Evan?” Mashka demanded.
     Anya ignored her as she made a tight turn around a storage crate and then slammed on the brakes throwing her passengers forward. “Get in!” she shouted.
     The front door opened and Evan climbed in, he had not even closed the door when Anya was once again hitting the gas.
     “Are we being followed?” Mashka asked.
      “Not if I can help it!” Anya declared.
     The passengers fastened their seatbelts, knowing they might not have another chance.
~~~~~~~~~~
     The Czech led the way, torch and gun in hand, as Bruno pushed Ravi’s chair through the narrow, dark space.
     “I never thought there would be any tunnels around here.” Ravi muttered.
   “They were built by a smuggling operation a decades ago.” Bruno explained, “It was because of them that we chose this spot as a temporary base.”
    Ravi grimaced. “About that… what if your friend didn’t know where to melt through the floor?”
     “That’s obvious, we would have kept falling until we reached the planet’s core.” Bruno declared. He grinned when he heard Ravi squirm in his wheelchair.
     “Honest? What an inconvenient power!”
     “No, I joke, he can travel through matter like a fish in a pond, there’s nothing to worry about.”
     George attempted a chuckle.
     The Czech stopped and felt a wall. “Come.” he ordered.
    Once they all got close, The Czech pushed them both through the wall and they found themselves looking into the afternoon sun which happened to find a hole in the clouds. The Czech emerged behind his two charges.
     “It would be useful to have the good doctor around.” Bruno muttered looking down the dock that ran along the brick retaining wall they had phased out of.
     The Czech shrugged. “He’s been keeping radio contact, he was split up from the girls and has already evaded capture. We can make do without him, right Ravi?”
     “How can I help?” he asked, “I can’t even stand.”
     “True, but you sense bodies right? You control muscles so you must know when there are people present.”
     “No, I just know whether there are human bodies nearby, and there are, you two.”
     The Czech sighed in irritation. “And here the science department though you might be useful. Never mind let’s just get to the car.”
     They scurried down the dock, keeping an eye out for any SICA agents. In the distance they could hear screeching tires and gunshots but nearby it was silent. They hurried between the warehouses and around a few corners until they spotted the dark blue, sleek sedan.
     George was about to sigh in relief when he heard a stray footfall that made his heart jump into his throat. The next thing he knew he was out of his chair, lifted by one massive arm and set between the open doors of a shipping crate where he had cover on three sides.
“Stay put!” Bruno ordered as gunfire filled the air.
     Bruno then snatched up a large metal box and flung it towards the SICA agents then dived after it, using it as cover.  “I need my gun back!” he yelled.
     From behind the shipping crate to his left, The Czech kicked over the firearm.
     “Danke,” he muttered.
     The shots from SICA’s side calmed down, giving The Czech a window to peek where his enemy was. Then he ducked and made a black circle appear through the storage crate, through which he fired three shots, each hitting an agent but only one bullet made itself past their Kevlar armour with lethal result.
     He peeked out again. “Tsk, this is taking too long.” After getting Bruno’s attention he waved three fingers. The burly German nodded in understanding. The Czech phased into the wall beside him, while Bruno continued to fire rounds.
     Meanwhile something in George’s gut stirred.  Something akin to intuition told him that someone was circling around the building. Was this what the Czech had been talking about? He wanted to use his power and stand up, but he did not know if he would place Bruno or The Czech under his control by mistake and get them killed.
     His fears were confirmed when he felt vibrations through the metal crate, as if someone had leaned against the opposite side of the shipping container. They were surrounded.
     I’ve got to do something!  He reached up to the door latch and pulled himself shakily up using his upper body strength. He tried not to lean, for if he did the door would fling him outwards and make him perfect target.  He pulled himself all the way up, still wondering what he was going to do.
     Just as found himself hanging helpless from the door a pair of footsteps stopped on the other side. Ravi held his breath. It would only take a second for the SICA agent to look around the door, find him, and kill him. He saw a black gloved hand grab hold of the door and pull it outwards. Without thinking Ravi let go of the door and jerked his arm, manipulating the agent’s body like a puppet. The metal door swung and made a hollow gong sound against the man’s head.
With his support torn from his grasp, Ravi fell spread-eagle before three agents, one of them sitting hard on his rear and moving his helmet back in place. Pure adrenaline dictated Ravi’s next actions. Before a whole second passed he gained full control of the fallen SICA’s body and they both rose as mirror images. Just before the two other agents pulled their triggers, Ravi stepped backwards forcing his controlled SICA to move as well.  Two bullets embedded themselves in the agent’s unprotected back.
     In the next moments Ravi discovered how fast he could switch bodies and found himself already in control of the next agent who he forced to twist and shoot his ally in the neck. Then as he brought his own hand, holding an imaginary gun towards his neck so did the agent. Ravi began to squeeze his index finger in until the agent let out a high pitch scream of terror.
    Guilt immediately broke through his clouded, terror-gript mind when he realised the agent behind the all-concealing helmet was a woman. He dropped his hand and his legs buckled beneath him. Shots rang in his ears and he expected himself to have blood spraying from some hole in his chest but instead he saw the woman before him fall crumple to the ground and blood pool beneath her. Not seeing a shooter he looked behind him.
     “I always tell people that chivalry isn’t dead.” The Czech said with a grin. He reached down and cast Ravi over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. “Oof, you’re heavier than you look, tiny Indian."
     Ravi grimaced in mixture of revulsion at the coldness of his rescuer and embarrassment at being so simply manhandled by the large Czech. He could not even bring himself to correct him that he was Lebanese. As his vision bounced with his carrier’s strides he looked back at the three bodies he left in his wake. He swallowed hard, fighting back nausea and shock, tried to focus on the simple fact that he was alive, and not that his life cost three others, and their respective families dearly.
     Dániel cast Ravi from his shoulders into the back seat of a speed boat where Bruno was waiting behind the wheel.
     As he collapsed into the backseat he asked, “What about the sedan?”
   “A grenade took care of that.” Bruno grumbled as he fired up the gas and the boat accelerated into the bay. “So I went to plan B and hot-wired a boat. At least now they can’t chase us.”
     Salt spray and wind blasted against Ravi’s dark skin as he stared back at the shore. He wondered how his life had ever come to this. Hours ago he was a wealthy recluse with a boring day job and now he was dodging bullets and being rescued by shady individuals.
~~~~~~~~~~
     Anya’s foot eased off the gas. “I think I lost them.” she smirked.
     “Good show!” Evan announced prompting a high-five.
     After a brief glower at Anya, Mashka sighed in relief. She looked over at her brothers to share her elation but found her words chased away.
     Both boys were pointedly staring in any direction but one another, arms crossed, eyes cold.
     “I would think this reunion would be a bit more cheerful,” she scolded, “Come on you two, the family is back together!”
     Aleksei huffed, blowing a straw hair from his forehead. “It might have been, had Vova here not insisted on fratricide.”
     “And you are still a tattle, mama-boy.” Vlad sneered.
     “Well, at least I’m consistent. When did you pick up being a psycho?”
     “I don’t have to answer you!”
     “Eh?! You think you don’t owe me an explanation?!”
     The boys were now glaring at each other sideways, which their sister saw as a minor improvement.
     “Hey!” she snapped, “Both of you, this is not the time! Just calm down and we can talk about this later alri-- yagh!”
     The siblings were all flung to one side of the van letting out gasps of surprise. Once the horizontal g-force abated, Vlad pushed the siblings off of him and was about to demand an explanation for Anya’s crazed driving when saw a bullet hole appear in the door frame next to him.  He ducked, Mashka and Aleksei following suit, then peeked back to see a green SUV hot on their trail.
     Evan opened the skylight.
     “What are you doing?!” Anya and Mashka cried in unison, to their mutual annoyance.
     “Relax, I have a plan!” he declared before pulling himself through.
     Mashka almost screamed in horror when she looked back and saw him tumble off the roof. But just before he hit the road he took flight, disappearing from view.
     Evan shot high above the buildings into the early twilight sky and looked down at the SICA SUV. He sighed, readying himself for what he was about to do. Like a falcon he dived and as he neared the vehicle he banked and landed feet-first on the roof. He snatched a roof rack with his left hand and raised his other towards the engine bonnet.
     Even through the rushing wind he could hear the commotion beneath him as the SICA agents shouted in French and English wondering what had landed on the roof. One brave soul climbed out the passenger window with gun ready, but Evan was prepared, releasing a kinetic blast from his hand he blew the agent’s weapon away and made him fall back out of view as the poor fellow hung half-way out the window over the street.
     Once more aiming his hand at the engine, Evan angled his fingers inwards and with sensation like rushing water from his palm past his fingers the focused kinetic stream let loose, in an instant blowing a circular whole through the centre of the engine.
     The vehicle decelerated so rapidly Evan was flung forward, releasing the rail just in time not to have his arm ripped off. As he hurtled towards impending road rash he made a desperate attempt to regain flight. Kinetic energies sputter around him just stopping his descent by moments until he somehow regained his equilibrium and enveloped himself in a cylinder of forces and torpedoed upwards.
     After a brief moment in the sky to collect himself Evan plunged back down into the aura of the golden streetlights and landed on the roof of Anya’s van.  He swung himself through the sky light and into his seat.
     He looked over surprised to see his former comrade’s face in a dark scour.
     “What?” he asked, expecting some sort of awe rather then spite.
     “Do you have any idea how many times that would have been so useful? We could have completely averted the Minsk incident.”
     “Look, I did not know I could do it then, honest!” Evan pleaded with her then turned his gaze back to Mashka for support.
     The woman leaned forward and smacked the side of his head. “Don’t ever do that again! Are you insane?!”
     Evan cowed.  “Sorry…”
     Anya however came to his defense. “Listen kitty, because of him we no longer have them on our back, show a little gratitude.”
     Mashka would have responded had she not been stunned by the nickname. Kitty?! What does she mean by that?! And why am I being schooled on etiquette by the psycho who tried to kill me? She shook her head, despite all their history, now was not the time to argue.
     By the time it was almost midnight they had passed from Scotland into England, switched vehicles and searched for trackers at an abandoned gas station and kept on south through the night to the next Association hideout. All the while moving further from the place the Sharovs had come to know as home.

     “You killed him like some stray dog!” Mashka half screamed half roared, flashing her long fangs.
     Anya's hand flashed to her holster but an icy glance from Daniel made her freeze.
     The Administrator seemed unfazed. “You should know something about your dear Dr. Salaam. Firstly, he was being used by SICA, which means he was leading you and your brother to your murders. In his favour, I will say that he might not have known the details, The Western powers can be very seductive, he may have been sincere in wanting to help you. But he was quite simply a threat to you, intentions unconsidered. You are too precious, Mariya, I will kill hundreds more to protect you.” The Administrator beheld her tenderly, despite his dark words.
     The memory of the bloody rivulets flowing from Salaam’s head on a rainy roof in Moscow had been burned in her mind, never to heal. That moment had become her symbol of utter depravity and the starkest expression of the high cost of heroics. Now to be told that her hero was another ‘shade of gray’ left her gut twisted in anger that she desperately tried to control lest her beast bring its desires to fruition on all those around her.
     Ravi was the one to break the awkward silence. “Not to make light of your friend’s unfortunate demise, but what is the next course of action? With SICA combing all of Scotland for us, we need to do something.”
     Anya answered before the Administrator could. “Exactly what we always do, leave false trails and return home.”
     The older man smiled fondly at her. “Precisely my dear. Bear with this everyone, especially you two.” He pointed at Mashka and Evan. “I assume we will be parting ways somewhere along the line, but I really could use your help for as long as possible. At least until Mr. Donnelly and you are out of harm’s way.”
     “So, you are just going to let us go this time?” Evan asked.
     The Administrator shrugged. “Colleagues are most helpful when they are willing. And I can make sure any task would be to your benefit.”
     Mashka looked at Evan and nodded towards the door.
     He got the hint and told those present. “We need to deliberate, one moment.” They excused themselves and closed the door behind them.
     Evan began, having already rehearsed his words. “Look, Mashka, I know what you are going to say--,”
     “You should,” she snapped. “Are we going to go along with them, honest?”
     “At this instant they can keep us safe, besides, The Apparition seemed rather adamant on our presence here.”
     Mashka found herself forced to agree. “And she’s been talking with The Administrator too. Makes one wonder what their arrangement is.”
     Evan grunted in agreement. “Mashka, do you trust me?”
     She was taken aback by the question for a moment. “Why are you asking me that?”
     “I need to know, do you trust me?”
     Her catlike eyes focused intently on his grey ones, as if reading his thoughts through them. “With my life,” she answered, never losing eye contact.
     “Then there’s nothing to worry about.” He said sternly, then cracking a smile. “Though, I can’t say I have the best track record.”
     After a light punch to her friend’s chest, Mashka smirked. “The Administrator lied about wanting to work with us,” Evan’s smile wavered. “-But he spoke the truth when he said he wanted to keep us safe. I think The Apparition is ‘wearing the pants’ when it comes to his dealings with us.”
     Evan raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t think she’d be powerful enough to do that.”
     Mashka shook her head and lead the way back into the office. “We’re in!” she declared as she opened the door.
     The Administrator nodded.  “Excelle--”
     A high pitched metallic shriek cut him off and the transmission ended though the noise remained, ringing in everyone’s ears.
     “The transmission has been jammed!” Bruno exclaimed.
     “That sounded like a shock grenade.” The Czech noted casually as he rose and passed through the wall.
     “I guess this means we’ve been found.” Dr. Kerry sighed wearily.  “Time to pack up.”
     “Where’s Aleksei?” Evan asked.
     “He went to talk to his brother in the next building over…” Anya began, then trailed off.
Mashka rushed towards the door.
     “Hey!” Anya called getting her attention. She tossed a holstered revolver which Mashka snatched perfectly. “You might need that.”
     “Tch,” Mashka growled, clipping the hoster to her belt and drawing the weapon as Evan had taught her.
~~~~~~~~~~
    Vlad spun around, looking for any sign of movement, but to no avail since the steam hid everything from view. He considered simply blasting away all the obstructions, but that was bound to get him in loads of trouble, as it was, this duel was making plenty of noise.
     Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a stray swirl of mist that seemed out of place.  He reacted by instinct, kicking behind him.
     Aleksei backed away just in time to avoid the brunt of the attack, only earning himself a minor bruise. He could not stop as Vlad came in for the attack. With blinding speed Aleksei found himself on the receiving end of a left hook. His training with both Nida and Evan came back to him and he stopped his brother’s fist with his palm, grabbed Vlad’s upper arm, and kicked out his legs from under him.
     However, Vlad caught himself with a hand and a foot and lashed out with his free leg.  His strike missed, instead it knocked aside the swirling mist that was rolling off of Aleksei's body, leaving after images of his form wherever he went, disconcerting him.
     Using the mist to thoroughly obscure his brother’s vision, Aleksei planned on backing away, but he forgot to pay attention to where his feet were and he backed into one of the shelves causing him to loose balance.
     Vlad grinned when he heard his brother trip. If he moved quickly, he would make a direct hit. He extended his right hand.
     Aleksei felt the temperature lower, but he had the wind knocked out of him. In his panic, he bid the vapour to ram into him as he turned on his side. He was thrown like a rag doll and sent tumbling through the rows of bottom shelves. He felt a portion of his sensory field destroyed as his sheet of water vapour had all heat sapped from it, leaving only useless frost and snow behind. Vlad, without knowing it, had half blinded him.
     Still immobile from slamming himself with his own mist, Aleksei had no other choice than to push himself up just enough to bring vapour beneath him. Once he had accomplished that, he again, painfully, struck himself with the mist, this time launching himself high into the air so he could roll off of the torrent and land on a top shelf, hidden from view. Knowing that his rough landing would make a racket, Aleksei bid the stream that had brought him upwards to knock down a the large stacks of boxes from their perch making a deafening crash on the concrete floor and covering up any noise from Aleksei’s hastily planned movements.
     Panting heavily and nursing his injured side, Aleksei beckoned tendrils of mist to reattach himself to the floor five shelves down. When he did he sensed that several persons had entered the building and he recognised none of their shapes. 'SICA! Vlad!'
~~~~~~~~~~
     “They’re in the building.” The Czech declared as he returned through the wall then glared at Bruno. “How did they get past your security?”
     “Must have been a virus. Though it would take impressive skill to get past my custom firewall and--”
     The Czech raised his hand for silence. “Later, right now, the point is that we‘ve been sniffed out. Bruno, you are staying near me.”
     Immediately the computer tech knew he was both a suspect and/or a primary target of the enemy.
     “And doctor?”
     Kerry turned to The Czech.  “Yes, Dániel?”
     “How many are out there?”
     Kerry’s pupils wove into interlaced triquetras then returned to normal in less than a second.  “Twenty-three normal humans… but there are two, not Jinn, but I would be careful, their souls are unusually potent.”
     “Good to know.”
      Mashka looked strangely at Kerry.  “You are Jinn too?”
     “After a sort,” he smiled brilliantly, causing his initial unnerving impression to fade. “We’ll have to talk about that later. In the meantime, four of them just entered this building, and your brothers are being surrounded as we speak. Both of them are exhausted after using all that power they were fighting each other with.”
     “What?  They were fighting?!” Mashka cried in a hushed tone. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He waved her off. “Relax, neither of them are hurt badly. The important thing is that there are now six people at the other side of this building.”
     Mashka nodded and turned her attention to the opposite side of the warehouse. Her keen sense of smell picked up on the intruders’ presence as did her sharp hearing as she removed her sensory limitation.
     “Six just entered this building,” Mashka began, “and they split into two groups, each taking a side.”
     The Czech nodded and looked pointedly at Kerry. The doctor understood the gaze and cockily smirked.
     “Anya, how much do you want to bet I can shoot them all from here?”
     “Just do it Kerry, stop fooling around,” she snapped.
     “As you wish,”
Mashka felt a tingling in the air as Kerry tilted his head back, eyes rolling back in their sockets. She only got a brief glimpse again of his electric blue eyes before he spun around and stared through the forest of shelves and boxes, his twin triquetras twirling.
     “Aha!” he exclaimed as he rested the revolver atop the nearest box, aimed through a gap and fired.
     Mashka jumped from the gun fire, her ears ringing but still able to pick up the sound of a limp body falling to the ground. Barely a second later Kerry had already fired off his five other shots through the shelves, five more bodies echoed  as they thudded to the cement.
     He turned back to the two women as his pupils shrank back to their normal parameters and the irises faded to a much less electric blue. He blew at the barrel tip and holstered his weapon in his coat. “It’s such a shame you ladies could not see the light show. It’s a glorious and colour filled sight when a soul is liberated from its prison--,”
     “Quiet Kerry.” Anya ordered in annoyance.
     “Oh yes true, we need to get to the dear little boys now don’t we?” He stepped to the side gallantly, “Ladies with fully loaded guns first, of course!”
~~~~~~~~~~
     Dropping into the mist below Aleksei winced as his feet made noise against the floor. As quietly as possible, he hastened towards his brother who was standing still in the mist. He could feel several bodies intruding into the warehouse, eight persons fanning out at the entrance and peering into the mist. He felt them cast several small objects blindly outwards, one of them landed on a shelf a mere metre from Vlad’s face.
     Running with a maelstrom of fog pressing behind to grant him speed, Aleksei leapt and grappled his brother to the ground as six ear piercing blasts and brilliant lights blinded and deafened the two young men. The river of mist that had followed Aleksei continued to push them to the far wall away from the intruders.
     Aleksei’s body shook and shuddered in numb pain. He felt as if he had been on the receiving end of a jackhammer. He felt blood trickle across his skin, but his nerves were too confused to tell him where or how many wounds from which it flowed. He brought trembling hands to his ringing ears and tried to curl into a foetal position but his legs were were unresponsive. All he could see was the pale red colour one sees when facing a bright light with one’s eyes closed. As his vision cleared he could see first the cement floor then a hand.
     Is that my hand? When the fingers twitched at his bidding he assumed it must be his.  His vision continued to return and before him another hand beyond his came into sight. Slowly, Vladimir’s face came into view, his features grimacing at the pain that overwhelmed his body, but most importantly, he seemed unharmed.
~~~~~~~~~~
     For Vladimir the experience had not been quite as terrible. His brother had knocked him out of the direct path of the blast wave and shrapnel. His head spun and he felt a bump beginning to swell on the side of his skull, but otherwise he was fine, though in no way ready to move.
     Someone grasped his hand so he tried to focus his blurred vision. His first reaction was to snatch his hand away, if only he could move that much, but something else kept him still, there was a sense of desperate urgency in the weakening grip on his fingers. Out of the darkness Aleksei came into view, his brown eyes wide in fear and pleading. Vlad’s groggy mind could not understand the expression until he finally realised the red lines of blood framing his brother’s eyes, nose, and mouth. A moment later he saw the sturdy, metal shelving that had pinned his twin to the floor from temple to waist.
     Aleksei’s grasp weakened further and Vlad’s heart raced and he felt pinned himself by his brother’s frightened gaze.