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   Yegor sat miserably alone in the cafeteria.  The stench of smoke still remained from yesterday.  The fire was small, and had only barely damaged a couple rooms towards the back of the second story.  The rooms above and below that section had been roped off in case of structural instability.  Other than that, the school was operating right on schedule, though a few students stayed home to ‘recover’ from the shock.
    Aleksei was among those absent, leaving the events of yesterday still fresh in Yegor’s head.  His best friend had superpowers, was being chased by agents, and the last time he had seen him, Aleksei was riding off to rescue his sister.  He looked out the windows and wondered if he had succeeded in his mission.  He wished that he had gone along, not just to help his friend, but also get in on a little more of the action.  Deep inside, he knew that whatever happened, he would not be seeing Aleksei for a very long time.  
    He wasn’t normally a religious person.  He had long ago calculated that Aleksei was pious enough for both of them, an idea Aleksei protested vehemently, insisting that divine grace had no such mechanism.  But despite his typical reasoning, Yegor whispered a prayer, desperately hoping there was a God to hear him.  Oddly enough, he felt a little better, and a small voice somewhere told him that, perhaps, he would run into his friend again.  He smiled at that thought.  He really was pathetic.  He relied more on Aleksei than he had ever imagined.  Aleksei was always the calm one, in any storm.  Now when the storms came, he would have to conquer them on his own.
    “Anyone sitting here?” a gruff voice asked.
    Yegor jumped at the sound of Radik’s familiar tone.
    Radik plopped down next to him.  “Where is Aleksei?”
    “He’s gone, his sister too.  They just disappeared.”
    “You can tell me the truth later, I don’t mind.  So… what now?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “It’s funny.” Radik said.
    “What?”
    “I was just reminded by what Gzha. Petrovna says sometimes; how life is like a play.  People enter stage, and exit stage, but some players remain.”
    Yegor was stunned at the large boy’s sudden poetic connection.  “You sound like Aleksei.”
    “Spasibo… I guess?”
    'A play?  Is this what growing up is like?'  Yegor wondered.
~~~~~~~~~~
    Mashka’s eyes drooped as she pulled the kunai knives out of the target, when she heard a man enter and address Anya.
    “Agent Aho, I’m sorry to intrude but Gzha. Sharova is needed elsewhere.”
    The voice belonged to a handsome Tatar.  His dark hair and complexion starkly contrasted with Anya’s.  His hair was groomed to be slightly spiky and he had a short, trendy beard.
    Anya smiled and replied, “No, we are finished here.  Maryja,” she turned to face her, “This is Dr. Salaam.”
    Mashka stayed still.
    Anya sighed. “Relax, he’s just here for a small blood sample, check-up, etc..”
    “My pleasure to meet you, Gzha Sharova.”  
    His smile immediately reminded her of the guard outside her room; very warm and disarming.  She wondered if there was a college somewhere that taught courses on how to smile earnestly.
    “A pleasure, Dr. Salaam,” Mashka greeted with a polite nod then followed him out of the chamber.
    After the two left, Anya looked at the table of knives.  Her expression darkened as she grabbed three kunai between her fingers on one hand, and threw them with all her might.  One hit each of the targets, except the last which rattled off the wall with a loud clatter.  
    ' That girl is meant to replace me!'  She seethed, 'In a matter of hours she equals me use of knives, all because of those eyes.  Have I been spent?  Soon I will be meaningless to him!'  Gritting her teeth, she felt a tingling around her eyes as they began to moisten.  But before she allowed herself such a luxury, she clenched her fist and a cold, composed grin placated her face.  'Nyet, she’s not going to succeed me, because I’m going to destroy her!'
~~~~~~~~~~
    Mashka followed quietly behind the scientist, who was busily reading his notes.  He turned his head and smiled kindly.  For some reason the smile immediately calmed her.  It wasn’t like Chekhov’s reserved and fake smile.  This one was sincere, and did not hold some hidden meaning.
    She followed him into the lab and sat in the chair he offered.
    “Zdravstvuyte Gzha Sharova,” he greeted her following typical decorum, “My name is Dr. Salaam, but you can simply call me Hamid, if you prefer.”
    He shook her hand as he explained, “I’m just going to take a blood sample to check for infections, foreign elements etc.  You don’t have a phobia of needles, right?”
    Mashka looked away and tried to distract herself.  “Um is this really necessary?” she asked.
    “Consider this just a check-up.  Relax!  I’m really good at this.” Mashka could hear his boyish grin.
    Hamid continued to chat, “So, what do you think of your gift?”
    “Huh?” Mashka was surprised by the question, “Well, I would not call it a gift.  It can be very inconvenient at times.  Example, I’m stuck here in this secret lair.”
    Hamid chuckled, “It is wonderful, if you think about it.  You could use it for so many things.”
    “Or abuse it,” Mashka added.
    “True,” he replied.  “But isn’t that the same with any talent?”
    She nodded in agreement. “Back to a previous subject, when are you going to put in the needle?”
    “Already done,” Hamid gave her another kind smile.
    She turned to see three vials of blood on the counter, a bandage on her arm, and the needle in question, was nowhere to be seen.  “Wow, you are good.”
    He smiled, “The trick to it all is to keep the patient distracted.”
    His phrase got her thinking, and a concerned look crossed her face.
    “What’s the matter?” he asked.
    “What else is going to happen?  I mean what are going to be my other tests?”  Mashka asked nervously.
    “That is a very good question.” he replied, “We are testing the limits of your ability and are hoping to find ways you could control and use it effectively.  I assure you though, the test you had in that building is never going to happen again.  Your parents certainly would not have approved of that.  The Association has changed since they were involved.  Now, they are more willing to take risks.  Since you are here, though, there’s no reason to resort to such tactics.”
    Mashka perked up at the mention of her parents. “Did you know them, my parents?” she asked.
    “Actually, yes I did.” he nodded.  “They were very kind people and I was good friends with your father.” he noticed her change of demeanour when he mentioned her dad.  “I can understand that you are still hurting, aren’t you?  Divorce is never a pretty thing.  Even though they worked for us, it seems marital issues come up everywhere.”
    Hamid felt the mood lean dangerously towards depressing, so he hurriedly changed the subject. “I’m going to take an overall check of your vitals and then it’ll be lunch time.  And don’t worry, our cooks are excellent here.”
    Mashka nodded, “Atlichna!  I’m starving.”
~~~~~~~~~~
    Beredei’s yellow truck parked next to the sidewalk in one of the small suburbs of Western Moscow.  Aleksei opened the door but Beredei grabbed his arm.
    “Here,” he said, handing him some paper money, “Nine hundred roubles, use them wisely.”
    Aleksei inclined his head gratefully, “Spasibo, sir.”   
    The young man hopped out of the car and then waved da svidanya, as the truck disappeared around the corner.  Turning, Aleksei looked to the city.  He had a long journey ahead, but already knew his first move.  Why try to find them, when they would be searching for him anyway?
    He touched the medallions through his clothes.  Aleksei was never one to put much faith in charms or saints, but the prayers that the trinkets represented, gave him a calm resolution.  He pulled the bill of his black cap low over his face.
    Mashka, here I come!

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    After a long shower, Mashka changed into some of the clothes from the ornate wardrobe in the corner.  She chose a demure, black skirt and a high neck turquoise blouse and avoided looking at the tags, knowing by touch, that the fabrics were more expensive than she would buy, unless she found them second-hand.  As the sun rose and shone through the window, warming her back, she braided her hair, pinning her dark brown curls into a bun, which she tucked under a new, red headscarf.
    The whole world felt surreal.  How suddenly she was bathed in luxury, and every moment she felt less imprisoned.  She felt foolish. 
    'Is this really all Aleksei and I were running from?  A posh bed and nice clothes?'  She shook her head.  'I can’t forget.  I don’t know what these people want from us.'
    A knock at her door caught her off guard.  “Oh!  Um, come in!”
    The door swung inwards, and a boring-faced, uniformed security guard leaned in, as if hesitant to invade her space.  “If you are ready, you have an appointment with some of the staff.”
    Seeing her uncertain face, the guard smiled disarmingly.  “It’s just some routine tests.  The Administrator told you earlier about them.”
    “Oh, I wasn’t actually very conscious then.”
    He chuckled good-naturedly.  “Hardly any of us were conscious at two in the morning.  I hope the few hours of sleep you had were invigorating.”
    “Da, spasibo.  I was very comfortable.”  It was then that Mashka realised she was engaged in friendly banter with a complete stranger, one who was guarding her door.  
    She rose hurriedly and said, “Lead the way.” ending the conversation.  This is too strange.  Am I really… a guest?
    Mashka was escorted into a plain, black walled room.  Her guards left her with no more than another disarming smile.  The only furniture was a metal table with an assortment of knives and other small, sharp objects.  Her stomach lurched in worry, until she turned around and saw the young woman from the construction site follow her in.  
    “Dasha?” Mashka asked.
    The woman smiled and ran her fingers through her short brown hair.  “Actually, my name is Anya.”  She extended her hand and Mashka shook it politely.  “I apologise for having to deceive you, but desperate times…”
    “Spasibo for the apology, even though we did almost die,” Mashka responded warily.
    Anya chuckled reassuringly, “We had safeguards in place and everything was planned out," she chuckled, "even the sparrow.  The reason for the test was to see what kind of person you were.”
    “And what did you find out?” Mashka asked with hidden ire.
    “That you have natural skill and a desire to help people.”
    Mashka was taken aback momentarily.  “A personality test would have been far less harmful!”
    Anya scratched the back of her head awkwardly, “Da, well, we have superiors and acts speak much louder than words.  Both Iosif and I were against the test.  But we got you here, did we not?”  She smiled meekly.
    “What about my brother?  Where is he?” Mashka asked.
    “Da… him…” Anya sighed, “We are looking high and low.  I guess The Czech, and that idiot at the school, spooked him.  I certainly don’t blame the boy for being frightened.”
    Mashka fell silent.
    Anya noticed Mashka’s face, and decided to change the subject to business.  “Let me explain why I called you here.  Over there towards the wall there are three targets.” She pointed at three dense foam circles.  Then she walked over to the table.  “These knives on the table here are what you’re going to use to hit those targets.  This is to test your enhanced hand-eye coordination.  I’m here of course to teach you how to balance them.”
    Anya reached down and picked up a small, four-pointed disk.  “These are hira shuriken.  They are easy to use because they have enough blades to, almost definitely, stick to what they hit.  You just need to know how to hold them.  There is a caveat, of course.  They are difficult to keep on a straight course.  But in this closed room, it should be fairly easy.”
    She threw sharp disk at the nearest target, making a bull’s-eye.  She gestured for Mashka to try.
    “How is this relevant to me?” Mashka asked.  “The Administrator promised me that I wasn’t going to be used to kill.  What else are these knives for?”
    “Knives are more than just killing.  They demonstrate control, calculation, eyesight, dexterity, I could go on.”  Anya again gestured for Mashka to try.  "Besides, these disk blades were never meant for killing.  They are meant to be more of a nuisance."
    Mashka picked up a shuriken and held it like she had seen Anya do.  Anya examined how she held it and nodded approval.  She aimed and threw, but the disk went off to the left, and clattered against the wall.
    “The trick is to know when to release.” Anya advised.  “You must release it just before your hand is pointed at the target.”
    Mashka tried again; this time she hit the outer ring of the target.  Anya clapped, “Not bad!  You catch on quick.  But we specifically want to see what you can do with your ability.  You are a sensory type from what we’ve seen, so you have enhanced perception, sight included, da?”
    “Umm,” Mashka hesitated, “I will try.” She closed her eyes and felt an odd tingling, then she opened them.  She glanced at Anya who, to her relief, did not shrink back.
    Anya saw two golden eyes.  The irises had expanded so much, only a little of the whites were visible, and the pupil had elongated into a slit.  She attempted to seem indifferent, but a hint of a shiver ran down her spine, as she looked into the cat-like eyes.
    Mashka picked up another shuriken.  "Please throw another one so I can watch."
    Anya nodded and obliged, and in a swift motion cast another blade, this time Mashka's eyes caught every detail, every motion, and subtlety of posture.
    As quick as she could, so she would not forget when she saw, Mashka threw her own shuriken, mimicking her experienced instructor down to the position of her fingers.  The blades wistled and made a loud thump in the centre of the farthest target.
    “Well then,” Anya huffed in bewilderment, “I suppose we can proceed on to the kunai.”
~~~~~~~~~~
    Midday sun peaked through the clouds and trees as Beredei walked around the house to see the boy’s progress.  He noticed that Aleksei had chopped the last of the wood and was nearly done stacking it into the pile, which rested under the overhanging roof of the house.  The young man was even trying to fill in gaps in the stack to conserve space.  Beredei was impressed.  He had not seen it packed so tightly in a long time.
    “You’re very good at this.” he complimented.
    Aleksei laughed modestly, “I always loved jigsaw puzzles, and I figured this was a similar principle.”
    “That mindset would come in handy.” Beredei seemed amused.  “Now, it is about time for me to go to town, and I think your work is satisfactory.”
    Aleksei turned and replied, “Spasibo Gn. Stepunin. I’m ready to go.”
    “Ha-ha,” Beredei’s laugh rang out like a church bell, “Don’t be in such a rush.  We still have your coat and jeans.”
    Aleksei looked down at his borrowed garments in embarrassment. “Da… I’ll change out of these.” He hurried towards the door.
    “And I would like you to grab some stuff from inside!” Beredei added, “Duscha will give it to you.”
    “Da!” he answered before disappearing indoors.
    Aleksei climbed up the stairs to the guest room where he found his jeans, coat, and Yegor’s hat.  It felt odd putting the hat on, as he could very clearly smell his friend.  It was something he never noticed before, but Yegor did have sweet, familiar scent.  Lord God, I miss him.  Please take care of my friend.
    Setting his jaw in determination, Aleksei looked at the small mirror on the wall. He thought it was interesting that he was wearing all black.  Pulling the hat bill low over his face, he observed that he looked rather intimidating.
    There was a knock on the door behind him.
    “Come in.”
    The girl stepped in and handed him a dark grey sweater with a high neck.  “This will help keep you warmer than just that coat.  It was my uncle’s before he moved.”  She paused a moment, looking away, and said, “You know, father enjoyed your help a lot.  I’m sure if you continued to work, he would be more than willing to have you for a farmhand.”
    Aleksei sighed, “You know I can’t do that, more than anyone.  My sister needs me, remember?”
    “Will-- will you ever come back?” the girl stammered shyly.
    He turned to look at her, caught off guard by the question.  He answered carefully,  “I probably will not.  If I succeed, I will be going far away from here with my sister.  But I tell you what, if I fail, or if things calm down, I will do anything in my power to come and visit sometime.”
    “Oh,” her voice trailed off.
    “Duscha,” Aleksei began, “I know I may seem like some amazing fairy tale.  But like all mysterious things, I need to fade away.  Make me into just a simple daydream that passes from memory.”
    “Is there any way I can really help you?” Duscha asked.
    “What I need to do is find out what I am.  I don’t think you can help me much with that.”  Her face fell, causing him to think a moment longer.  There was still one way she could help.  “Please pray for me.”
    Her eyes widened a moment, “Stay here, I will be right back.”  She dashed out of the room.
    He wondered what she could possibly be doing.  He got his answer when she returned.  She handed him a necklace with two small medallions: one showing a humbly dressed, bearded man with his hands held up in benediction, and the other a woman with an anxious face, cradling the Holy Child.  “This is Saint Seraphim of Sarov,” she said pointing to the man, “He’s the patron saint of my family, and known for his mercy towards those who wronged him.  He was a healer of many.  The other is Our Lady of Vladimir, Holy Protectress of all Russians.  Keep them with you--,”
    “I couldn’t possibly take such important items from you.” he pleaded.
    Duscha shook her head violently.  “No, take them, and know that within them you have my fervent prayers that I have whispered every morning.”
    Aleksei smiled unable to refuse her earnest face. “I will wear it always, spasibo.”  He examined the charms.  They were probably made of tin and mass produced, but they were nevertheless beautiful, made even more precious by their giver’s innocence.
    Duscha smiled radiantly, then handed him a bag.  “This is my dad’s lunch.”  Then she stepped out of the room and disappeared around the corner.
    Aleksei put the sweater on under the coat.  Then he took the necklace and slipped it over his head, tucking it under all the layers where it rested right over his heart.  Thanks, Duscha.
    He put on his hat, grabbed the bag, and walked down the stairs.  Then he hopped into the truck and handed Beredei his lunch.  The vehicle was enjoyably toasty and Aleksei relished every moment as he rested.

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    A log shattered as Aleksei swung the maul down.  He had finally gotten the hang of using the bulky tool.  He was realising that being a city boy had its disadvantages.  His house had been heated with electric radiators, not wood.  However, the work was rewarding.  He enjoyed watching the logs split every which way.  It was nice to find a little joy in something, after the events of the previous day.  He lifted up the maul, one last time, on a particularly troublesome log and successfully split it with a loud crack.
    “Good job!”
    Aleksei turned and saw Duscha carrying a vacuum flask and a tin cup.  She talked while she poured him tea.  “You’ve chopped a fifth of a cord in only an hour.  It takes father much longer to do that.”
    “It’s not that great of a feat; your father is probably just pacing himself.  I spent a long time just trying to figure out how to use this wretched thing.  I’m probably only able to lift it because of last year’s gym class.”
    “What did you learn in gym?” she sat on a log and rested her chin on her palms.
    “Uh, well, actually,” he coughed in embarrassment, “it was more of dance class.”
    “What type of dance?” she prodded.
    He shrugged, “Kalinka.”
    Her face lighted up in a smile, “Would you show me some tricks?  You must be really good at flips.”
    He hemmed and hawed a bit but finally gave in.  “Ok, here’s a bit of a routine we came up with for summer festival.”
    Aleksei put his feet together, then bent his knees laterally out.  He counted to four in his head.  Then he leapt into a back-flip, coming down with his hands, and hopping back up.  He landed back in his starting position.  Then with his knees bent, he kicked one at a time, bringing each one back in, just before he lost balance, and did a quick jig.  Then he ended it with a leap and splits mid-air.  He bowed in appreciation for her applause and laughter.
    “That’s amazing!” Duscha cried.
    “Spasibo,” he replied modestly, “now I should get back to work.  Oh and you should be preparing for school.”
    “Da,” she agreed reluctantly, “I will leave your tea here.  And, as far as school goes, my mother teaches me, so it’s not hard to get ready.”  She hurried off, but glanced back at the young man, as he resumed splitting logs.  He is hiding something, but he is not bad, or why would an angel have me find him?
    She vividly remembered the night before.  
    She felt a cold hand touch her shoulder.  Her eyes opened, but no one was there.  Shrugging, she rolled over and closed her eyes.
    “Duscha,” someone called to her, causing her to jump, “get up.” ordered the beautiful voice.
    The girl crawled out of bed, entranced by the whispers.  In a daze, she walked down the stairs and out the door into the cold night.  The cold wind whipped around her as she scanned the darkness, hoping to see the source of the melodious summons.
    “Over here!” the voice giggled musically.
    Duscha ran, desperately not wanting to miss another lovely word.  She stopped in the woods when she heard another laugh.  It was coming from the trees.  Looking up, she saw a dark figure crouched over on a wide limb.  She would have screamed in surprise, had the voice not told what to do next.
    “Help him.  He is a lost one.  Wake your parents, they will not hear me.” the voice muttered in her ear.
    Duscha could still not tell what the source of the words was.  “Yes madam.” she said to the dark sky. Then she ran indoors to wake her parents.
    Coming back from her memories, she looked at the boy who the mysterious voice had guided her to.   She knew he would be gone very soon, and it would be like he had never come.  But it still made her sad.  It would have been nice to have gotten to know him.
    After Duscha left, Aleksei stared back at the firewood.  Thinking back over yesterday, and all the times the mists came to his aid, he wondered if there was a way for him to improve his strange power.  It was the only advantage he had, and it would be wise to see its limits.
    He made sure he was not being watched before he began gathering moisture from the air.  It was considerably harder than usual.  He was inland, away from the sea and most of the water was in the form of frost.  It was not as easy to generate fog as it had been in damp St. Petersburg.  
    Slowly a cloud crept in from around him.  Guiding with his hand, he spun it around him, gaining momentum.  Then he brought the now serpent-like stream up above his head.  He eyed the partially split log and then brought the mist down, shooting it towards the crack in the log.  It buzzed through the air, like an angry hoard of bees, until it hit the crack full force.  The log split down it's length for a few centimetres.  Exhaling deeply, Aleksei walked forward and touched the inside of the crack, surprised that it was covered in a frost.  The blast of mist had left a thin, frozen layer on the cold wood.
    “Huh.” he cocked an eyebrow. 
    'I knew I could condense and evaporate water, but do I do that by adding and removing heat?  In the graveyard I thought my mist only froze because of how cold it was, but the place I struck is much colder than the rest of the log.  He carefully considered the notion.  So, do I control heat?' 
    A look of discovery crossed his face.  He placed his hand over a patch of ground.  Gathering vapour from the air, he made the fog drift down from his hand to the earth.  It simply became water droplets.  So he concentrated on speeding up the condensation.  The fog fell faster to the ground and a frost design immediately appeared, spreading around him, like a giant and intricate snowflake.
    He knelt down and touched the crystalline film.  It was not much of an effect, but it might come in handy somehow. 
    'It seems I can change the temperature between ten and twenty centigrade.  That would be more than enough of a change to cause this.  Come summer, I probably will not be able to freeze anything.  But at the same time, the warmer it gets, the easier it will be for me to evaporate.'
    He glanced around and decided that it would be best not to risk his practice having witnesses.  So he hastened to finish stacking the wood.  Once he finished, he ran up to the door and knocked.  Beredei answered, “Have you finished the cord?”
    Aleksei nodded, “Da.  I would just like to go for a stroll, I will be right back.”
    “As long as you don’t get lost again,” Beredei chuckled.
    Aleksei chuckled awkwardly and walked to the woods.  Once he had a few trees between himself and the house, he broke into a run.  Searching for some place that was completely sheltered from view, he found a small, bowl-shaped valley covered in ferns.  He climbed down into it.  The location was perfect.  No view from the house, and lots of moisture.  For a moment, he wondered what could have made such an odd crater.  
    History class, the year was 1939 when the German bombing of Moscow took place.  It was the farthest the Germans had been capable of advancing before the harsh Russian winter wiped them out, and large areas of eastern Europe were covered in these small pock marks from the bombs and shells.  Only nature turned the tide of the war in favour of Russia.
    Returning himself to the present, he bent his knees, and raised his hands defensively in front of him, facing the snow on the southern slope of the crater. 
    Since I can freeze water, perhaps I can melt it, too? 
    He extended his hand and concentrated on a section of the snow bank.  After a moment, he could see a fist-size hole start to develop in the snow, and water began to trickle down and be absorbed into the snow beneath.  It took a lot more effort than freezing, but he could do it.  It seemed whenever he used his power, he began a cautious fight with a strange kind of weariness that blanketed his body, yet at the same time, made him feel invigorated and more awake than he had ever been.  
    Embracing the strange sensation, he evaporated the water and beckoned it to him, like one would a falcon.  The cloud hovered in front of him, ready to obey his wishes.  He split the mist so he had one cloud over each hand.  He sent one into the snow-bank, and then fired his other, while simultaneously gathering the scattered vapour with his other hand.  It took a bit of coordination, but the more he did it, firing one stream forward and gathering another, he found he could do it faster, and each time he fired, he gathered even more mist than before.
    As he hit the bank more aggressively, the snow scattered, the clouds slamming into the dirt.  He found it was much easier focusing his thoughts when he moved his body and arms like a puppeteer.
    After several minutes of practice, the bottom of the valley had disappeared under a thick layer of mist.  He was about to call it a day, feeling more confident in his gift, when a thought occurred to him.  He twirled his hand downwards, the vapour twisted up his arm like a snake.  Then he aimed his arm at the snowy bank, still twisting his hand as he sent the fog off.  It spun through the air like a corkscrew and hit the slope, sending of an explosion of dirt back, causing Aleksei to jump in shock.  He wrapped his arms in front of his face as dirt and pebbles pelted him.
    Once the dirt settled, he peeked from behind his arms, and cautiously walked up to the slope.  He found a gaping, half-metre-deep hole.  His fingers grazed the inside, feeling how the twisted dirt and leaves spiralled towards the centre.  He was uncertain whether to be frightened or impressed at the accomplishment.  Granted, the dirt was loose from the constant moisture, but it could still cause a nasty bruise if he ever used the ‘corkscrew’ against a person.
    He shuddered when he heard a rustle from behind him.  He gathered a stream of fog, and turned to shoot it.  His eyes met Duscha’s.  Utter shock was plastered on her face and he could see fear in her eyes.  
    “Wh- wh- what are you?” she stammered.
    Brilliant…  He scolded himself.  He released the fog forced it to dissipate into the air, hastening to hide the evidence even though the damage had been done.  He put out his hand reassuringly, “Hi Duscha, is Beredei ready to leave?" he asked with a warm smile.
    She turned and started running for the house.
    “No, wait!” he called to no avail then muttered,  "Wonderful."
    Aleksei dashed up the hill in close pursuit.  A frightening realization came to him; he could not catch up with her in time.  This girl was surprisingly fast.  Then it occurred to him, his fog was much faster.  He stopped, and extended his arms towards her.  
    Duscha looked back to see a wave of fog approach her.  She tried to scream, but the air in her lungs seemed to vanish when she was engulfed by the fog.  The whole world turned white.
    Aleksei ran through the dense screen and stopped in front of where the girl was huddled.  Then he pushed the fog away from them so they were in an island of ground, surrounded in a ring of dense, white mist.
    She stood shivering in fear, “Don’t hurt me, please!”
    He shook his head, “My intent was never to hurt you.  I just want to talk.”
    Tears started to roll down her face, and Aleksei moaned, “Please, don’t cry!  I will tell you the whole story, but please, don’t cry!”
    Aleksei dispelled the fog and it condensed on all the surrounding foliage.  Then, he evaporated all the water on the ground below them and sent the mist away.  
    “There,” he said, “Now we have a dry spot to sit.  Just let me have my say, and you can go, da?”
    She blinked and sat down, nervously awaiting the explanation.

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    Once again, Mashka woke up with a start.  The drug still pumped through her veins, and it was getting more and more difficult for her to listen to The Administrator tell her why she was a ‘guest’.  She was relieved to see that the brooding Czech had left.  The thought of him made her skin crawl.  It was just her and The Administrator, who was polite and oddly charming.  But she kept wary of him, especially since she knew she was not thinking clearly.
    “So,” she began groggily, “I think you explained to me how this... operation of y--- what on earth have you given me?”
    He chuckled, “It’s a calming batch of hormones and sedatives to keep you relaxed and incapable of causing trouble.  If not for them, I would have to have that bald man in here to keep an eye on you.”
    “I'll stick with the tranquillizer.” she replied quickly.  She felt like there was something she needed to remember.  But it was all a blur.  A name popped into her head, “Aleksei, where's Aleksei?” she asked, realising her brother was missing.
    “He is still evading capture.” The Administrator sighed wearily, “But I assure you, we will bring him to safety.”
    “Go brother go!” she praised.
    The man smiled, though he looked slightly perturbed, and replied, “He’s full of this irrational fear.  We were not intending to harm either of you, but there were complications.”
    Mashka rolled her eyes, “Da, certainly, we should not be afraid of you at all.  It’s not like we have been shot at, kidnapped, drugged or otherwise terrified. Besides all that, da, we can trust you.”
    The Administrator gave a half smile, as if pondering the logic behind what she said.  “I see where that could seem threatening.  But we had to find you before the others did.” The Administrator insisted.
    “I should feel so loved.”  She grinned sarcastically.
    He leaned forward with a pained expression, “But we do love you.”
    Mashka stared, astounded by the nerve of him to say such a thing, after all she had gone through. What was even stranger was the sincerity behind his words.
    “Then you have a strange way of showing it!” she seethed, her foggy mind slowly clearing, “I had a normal life, and what have you done?  You ripped away the last bit of dignity I possess in this hateful world!”
    “We are trying to defend you.  You are very,” he paused for effect, “special to us.  We are your family, if only you would just realize that.”
    She stared at the older man.  There was something strange with the way he was talking.  “How are we family?” she asked, gritting her teeth, “You keep saying ‘family’ and ‘home’ but why?”
    “Because Mashka, we created you.” he said matter-of-factly.
    Mashka paused a moment, absorbing what he said.  She broke into laughter, “You expect me to believe that?  You’re an idiot to think I would trust such a wild statement.”
    The man’s face was dead serious. “We placed you in the hands of loving parents, to raise you and groom you for this moment.  They worked for us.  We gave you to them as an embryo, same as your brothers.  They never told you, because all of us hoped you would never need to know.  But the world has changed."
    Mashka’s head felt like exploding, both from the drugs slowly wearing off and from trying to take in all this information.  She was positive it was all lies, they had to be.
    “What evidence do you have to prove your claims?  Right now it‘s your words against physical and legal evidence.” she glared at him, watching for his reaction to the statement.
    Instead he chuckled, “You certainly paid attention in debate class, didn’t you?  But never mind about that.  You want physical evidence?”
    Reaching into his desk, he pulled out an envelope, and handed it to her.  In her mother’s handwriting on the front it read, ‘to Mashka, Aleksei, and Vladimir’.   She pulled the letter out and began reading.

    Dearest Children,
    If you are reading this, then we are no longer with you, and we are not there to share the truth with you.  You may feel confused, betrayed, or frightened, but know that we love you so much, none of what we have written here changes that.  Please forgive us.
    It may have been wrong for us to withhold the truth from you, but we wished you a happy and normal life.  We intended on telling you when the twins turned seventeen, when you would be old enough to understand all this, and respond rationally.  If you are reading this, we were wrong.
    So to set things right, here is the truth.  First, you are our children, biologically or not.  We loved you as our own.  However, you were all conceived using the most advanced form of genetic medicine.  Your father and I could not procreate naturally, so when given the chance to raise three beautiful children, we could not resist.
    Regardless of any explanation we can give, I am sure you all feel either cheated or scared, as you see the world around you change drastically.  We were informed that you were all different, with immense potential,  You didn’t ask for these talents that you are now discovering, but understand that it is for a higher purpose.  The three will touch the world, more than you will ever know, and if we raised you right, you will change it for the better.
    We hope that as you read this you are all well, that Mashka has been a wise older sister, Vlad has learned caution, and Aleksei has become a bit more reckless.  Most of all, we hope that you know we both loved you dearly.
    Your parents,
    Yakov and Inna

    Mashka thudded against the back of her chair.  The letter was entirely in her mother’s hand writing and the signatures were her parents’.  There was nothing she could say.  She did not know whether it was her fogged state of mind or not, but, it made sense to her.  Where else would these powers come from?  Why else would he leave?  When she looked up, the Administrator had taken a small chair and pulled it up in front of her, so he could stare eye-to-eye with her.
    “Duscha,” he began, “We never intended on putting you and your brother through any of this.  Our intention was not to activate you.  Many things changed between the time you were created, and now.  We were desperate, and we needed you to manifest.  
    “Powers are rising in the world today.  Soon, they plan to destroy all that our nation has tried to build in stability and prosperity.  If they had you, they would be able to do so much more.”
    “You made this problem!” Mashka retorted, “If you had refrained from doing what you should not have, this predicament would not exist!”
    The Administrator smiled sadly, “Yes it would not be so.  Or someone else would have discovered the 'Chrysalis' sequence first.  But the past has already happened.  Many would have preferred that we eliminate all of you, because of the risk you entail.  But we don’t want that.  Because you have such great potential for this world.”
    “But I’m just one person.” Mashka responded, “The world does not rest on my shoulders.  What happens now and in the future, I have no way to change.”
    The man sighed heavily, “Have you considered what you can do with your ability?  Do you even know the full extent of it?  If anyone else had gotten to you, they would have trained you to become a killer, one that could topple nations and destroy alliances.  And if you failed to break and do as they please, they would simply dispose of you.”
    Mashka looked him straight into his blue eyes and asked, “But won’t you do the same thing?  What use am I to you other than a tool?”
    “You see duscha,” he said earnestly, “There is not just you out there.  There are others which we created and hid all around the world.  The issue is that recent, events, caused us to lose track of them, and another group promptly finds them first, either killing or using them.  We don’t entirely know.  But you, you could help us find, and protect them.  And perhaps make the transition less frightening than what you went through.  I don’t want you to kill or lose the innocence you possess.  If you just trust us, life will get much easier, and there will be no need for lies or sedatives.”
    “So wait.  If I show good behaviour, you will let me go?”
    “Not quite,” he clarified, “you will have free roam of our facilities where you will be protected.  Eventually, yes, you can go out.  But first, we must eliminate the threat towards you.  And also, we need to train you in self-defence and control of your ability.  Though I must say, your skill in evading capture is impressive.  
    “But before that, let’s take one step at a time.  We will move you to more comfortable accommodations, if you promise not to try to escape.  You may call for an escort for when you decide to walk through the halls.  And if you have any questions, just come to me.”
    “And what about my brother?” she asked, “Will he be safe?  He is not the type to really harm anyone.  He’s just scared.  Do not hurt him, please.”
    “It was never our intention, duscha.”  As he stood, he kissed her on the forehead, and gave a paternal pat.  He then walked to his desk and pressed the intercom.  “Please send someone to escort Maryja to her new accommodations.  I do not want our Czech friend.  He has better things to do than frighten young women.”
    The two guards, who had earlier been her refuge, escorted her out.   When they arrived at her room, one of them opened the door and then coaxed her in with a hand against her back.
    She looked around.  There was a large window from which she had a beautiful view of Moscow.  In the distance, she could see the onion-domed church of St. Bartholomew.  The room had a wide king sized-bed with an ornamental wood crafted frame, and two night-stands each holding a lamp.  There were also a private bathroom and closet.  There was even a shelf of books.  Many of them she had read before, or was planning to read.  It looked as if they decorated it with her in mind, down to her favourite colour.  The entire room had a warm and homey feel.
    “Gaspazha,”
    She turned to the guard.
    “If there’s anything you need, use the pager next to the door.  We change shifts every four hours.  If you need food or any other commodities, you may also press that button on the wall next to your bed.  A female employee will attend to your need.  Dobriy den.” he nodded, and left her in the room.
    She sat on the soft bed, all the while in her heart asking, 'Why?  Why did mama never say anything?  Why did she slowly die without telling us? And why had she and... Yakov not gotten over their differences, if they knew it was all for this “greater good”?  And lastly, if that man calls me 'sweetheart' one more time I'll-!
    Lying down, she glanced out the window at the early morning sun.  It worried her that Aleksei could be out shivering in the cold, with no comfort whatsoever.  She hoped that he had found some shelter.  Despite her anxiety, a combination of fatigue and the soft bed caused her to slip from consciousness into dreamless sleep.

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    “Where am I?”
    “Where are we indeed?”
    “Who are you?”
    “Who are we indeed?”
    “We?”
    “Yes, I and I, together, we make we.”
    “Stop… don’t… smile like that… it scares me.”
    “It scares us, too.  Why do we make us smile like this?”
    “G-get away!”
    “WE BELONG TO US!”
    Aleksei shifted in his sleep, and his heart skipped a few beats, worrying about falling off the limb.  To his amazement, he did not feel the sensation of falling.  He did not feel much of anything.  It was as if he was floating mid-air.
    He blinked and saw the stars through a double paned window and yawned luxuriously.  He found himself, in what he was sure, was the softest bed he had ever been in.  He was tempted to fall back asleep but he forced himself to sit up.  It was then he realized that he was in someone else’s clothes.  
    How long was I out?  He wondered.
    His black coat was hanging on a hook and Yegor’s hat was on a shelf above it.  He stood up, the old wood floor creaked under his feet.  He grabbed the coat and hat and stepped quietly through the door and down the stairs into the main room.  
    There was an overstuffed couch on the right, and on the other side, there was a kitchen with a pot-belly stove.  From which he smelled the fragrance of simmering onion soup.  The whole room was warm and inviting.  It reminded him about something one would find on a holidays’ greeting card.
    He heard a male voice to his right, “Awake at last, are we?”
    Aleksei noticed the man staring out the window in the corner, next to the couch.  He spoke politely to him, “Da, gaspadin, I am.  And may I ask, who are you?”
    The man turned to face him, his gray hair shimmering in the moonlight, his dark beard defining his powerful face.  “Minya zovut Beredei Stepunin, and this,” he said, gesturing to a woman, standing before the stove, “is my lovely wife Irina.”
    Aleksei had to agree that she was indeed a lovely woman.  Age had been kind to her, and her plentiful wrinkles made her face seem to always smile.
    Aleksei bowed reverently, uncertain of how else to express his gratitude. “Minya zavut Aleksei Yakovich Sharov.  I’m very thankful for the warm bed you graciously provided me.”
    The man grunted, “Indeed.  Who in their right mind sleeps in a tree on a cold March night?  It’s not even spring.  If we had not found you, you may well have frozen to death.” he paused to examine him, then asked, “Speaking of which, why were you in these woods?”
    “It’s a long and quite…” Aleksei paused, thinking over his next words carefully, “complicated story.  You would not believe me if I told you.”
    “I have plenty of time to hear it,” Beredei replied, “and I need a reason not to send you in to the authorities.”
    “Oh Bered’,” Irina interrupted, “Leave the poor dear alone until he eats.”  She smiled warmly at the youth.  “He has the face of an angel.  He certainly is not a crook.”
    The man sighed heavily, and grumbled, “Even the devil himself is said to be the most beautiful of heavenly creatures.” Despite his caution, he did not stop his wife to give the boy a seat as she fussed over him.
    Aleksei heard the floorboards creek behind him.  He turned and saw that the sound was made by a bundled-up girl, as she removed her boots.  She was no older than thirteen, with raven hair and stunning blue eyes.  She had just come in from the chicken coup with a full basket of eggs.  Her face lit up with a smile, which showed obvious resemblance to her mother.
    “Allo! Minya zavut Duscha,” she greeted, extending her hand.
    Aleksei shook it in greeting.  “Good to meet you,” he hesitated, “Duscha.” he grinned awkwardly when he said her name.  He felt shy calling a girl ‘sweetheart’, even if it was her name.
    “She found you,” Irina said.  “Duscha woke up in the middle of the night and went out in the cold.  And it’s a good thing she did!  You would have died!  An angel must be watching over you.”
    “Humph,” Beredei said, “and because of aforesaid angel, it took a full hour to get you out of that tree.”
    Irina shook her head disapprovingly, “Oh come now, would it have been better that he froze to death?  Can you imagine us explaining why there was a corpse on our property?  Terrible!”
    Duscha sat right next to Aleksei at the table.  The simple onion soup was placed before him.  Hard chunks of lard were floating in it, and a pleasant scent flooded his nostrils.
    He wanted to dig in but he waited as his hosts bowed their heads for grace.  Instinctually he began reciting the prayer, “Baruch atah Adonai, Elohenu Melech ha…”  He stopped when he noticed he was praying alone and they were staring quizzically at him.  “Sorry,” he said quietly, “force of habit.”
    “So you are a Jew?” Irina asked.
    “Was a Jew, I’m Orthodox now, but old habits die hard.” Aleksei said smiling.
    Beredei coughed, “Well, don't be disrespectful, finish the blessing!”
    “Oh, da!” he replied, “…Melech ha olam, ha motzi lechem min ha aretz.”
    “Amen.” they all uttered.
    Aleksei attacked his bowl, but tried hard to remain polite.  He had the spoon in his mouth when Beredei began his interrogation.  “So, young man, what brings you here?  I want to hear it all.”
    It pained Aleksei to put down the spoon, but he decided he must tell these people something.  So he recounted how he had stowed away on a train, saying he was low on money.
    “It does not fit,” Beredei finally spoke.  He stared at Aleksei as if trying to burn into his mind.  “If you’re on a train, why didn’t you ride it to the station?  You could have easily sneaked by.  Why jump out twenty kilometres away from the destination?  Unless you’re running from the law, are you?”
    Aleksei chuckled slightly, “If I was a criminal, would I answer that question honestly?”
    Beredei’s reply was irritated, “But you are a criminal.  What do you call stowing away?”
    “Oh,” Aleksei thought quickly, and responded, “Alright, I guess I’m a criminal, and yes I am on the run, but not from the law.  The only illegal thing I have done thus far is stowaway.  I was trying to get out of St. Petersburg.  My father borrowed some money from, certain people, and, uh, it was not safe to stay.”  He looked around.  They were all patiently waiting for him to continue his narrative.
    He sighed, thinking quickly what he should and should not say.  He did not like to lie, but he knew they would never believe the truth.  He continued, “So, they are demanding my sister to pay the debt and I'm hoping to get some money to pay it off.  My father had already asked my uncle, but I think I could convince him to help if I met him in person.  My father has... a reputation, so I don't think my uncle understands how serious this is.”
    “Then why did you still jump off the train early?” Beredei asked, still not convinced.  “Into the middle of the woods,”
    “Well, that’s the tricky part.   The creditors tried to hold me for ransom, but I evaded them.  I was worried about stopping in the station, so I jumped off early.” Aleksei answered, trying to think of an explanation.  He was positive he was ripping off some prime-time mystery drama.  “I promise sir, I don‘t want any trouble.  I just need to find my uncle.  You don’t even have to trust me.  If you can just get me any closer to Moscow, I will be out of your way.”
    Beredei rubbed his beard in deep thought.  He finally spoke.  “I will drop you off in the suburbs.  You should be able to find your way from there, you think?  This is not because I trust you one bit, but I see no harm in remaining uninvolved in… whatever you are wrapped up in.”
    “Spasibo sir.” Aleksei bowed his head respectfully.
    “Don’t thank me yet.  I can’t just leave now.  I have farm chores first.  The animals don’t feed themselves, and the wood doesn’t chop and stack automatically.  Having some help for a few hours would be quite excellent.  Furthermore, you’ll get some bus money out of the deal.”
    Aleksei smiled in good humour.  Capitalism at its best.

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    The drab grey hallways of the Association’s Moscow branch headquarters made the place seem like a cave with hastily installed lights.  Not even the windows could bring relief in the early morning, where the only light was the distant centre of the city, whose lights never went out.  The complex was old, parts of it early soviet era, the newer sections being added on in the 1960s and 1970s and the utilitarian design was clear to this day.
    Anya’s every footstep caused a small echo through the drab environment.  As she passed one of the sharply dressed agents, she asked him, “I heard the subjects were apprehended, correct?”
    He nodded to his superior and replied hesitantly, “Yes, err, well subject one, at least.  Subject two is currently unaccounted for.  We still have some assigned to combing the woods.”
    Anya cocked an eyebrow.  “I’m surprised.  The boy was able to evade them, but the girl was not.  I had heard she was more promising.” She grinned, then continued, “We should get him soon enough.  He’s like a puppy, too loyal for his own good.” She made to leave when, as an afterthought she asked, “So where is the girl now?”
    “She’s in holding cell four, sleeping off the tranquillizer.”
    Anya nodded to him then continued down the hall and opened a door to her left.  Inside there was a row of windows looking down into roomy, black foam coated cells.  All of them were vacant, except the one holding Mashka.  She lay unconscious under the blankets on the lone bed, surrounded by black walls.  Her clothing had been switched for a red jumpsuit, solidifying the imprisonment scenario.  She seemed so innocent and vulnerable, but Anya knew better.  In a few months, this young lady would be a trained killer.  And if they could not break her, she would be disposed of like the others.
    Anya immediately despised her.  This child had so much power within her but she had done nothing to deserve it.  The thought left her with a sour taste in her mouth.  Personally, she hoped that Mashka would resist.  It would make breaking her so much more entertaining.  After savouring the thought for a moment, she went back to her apartment.
~~~~~~~~~~
    In the uncomfortably cool cell, Mashka began to stir.  Opening her bleary eyes, she took in her surroundings.  For a moment she could not remember what had happened then it all came back to her in a flood: the building collapsing, rescuing Dasha, the hospital, Iosif's help, then betrayal, and finding that Dasha had been a deception.  Her whole day had been a set up.  Then there was her flight through the woods, and Aleksei--
    Oh no!  Where is Aleksei? 
    She had sent him out on his own.  She wondered if he had been caught.
    She stood up, but instantly regretted it.  Her head seemed to explode on the inside as her surroundings spun.  Whatever had been in the darts was still affecting her.  She glanced around the room.  There was a single door, and a giant mirror on one side, set five feet up.  All other surfaces of the room were covered in firm black pads, even the ceiling and the floor, which felt rubbery under her bare feet.
    She staggered toward the door, stopping to grab her mouth, and taking a deep breath to keep from vomiting.  Once she felt confident again, she took the last few steps to the door and tried to push it open.  To her disbelief, it was unlocked.  The door creaked open to a short flight of stairs.  Is this a trap, or a miracle?  She thought to herself.  After a moment’s hesitation, curiosity got the better of her.  I’ll never know, if I don’t try.  
    Climbing the stairs, she slipped cautiously into a hall.  On this side, she could tell that the mirror was actually an observation window.  She tried not to dwell on the fact that she had been sleeping in a fish bowl.  The hall continued down towards a dead end, with what she could tell, were more cells branching off on both sides.  She did not stop to look at them, being more anxious to find an exit than explore.  And she did not want to be met with the various dilemmas that would arise from encountering other captives.  So she quickly went through the only door which appeared to be a way out, and entered a wider hall.
    She suddenly felt self-conscious at her red coveralls.  If she did escape she would look like a convict. 
    Back to the present, Mashka.  We’ll deal with that later. 
    At a crazy moment, Mashka grimaced when she realised that she had been dressed by someone else.  After a quick shudder, she walked down the hall searching for an exit.  There was no sound in the gray halls besides the patter of her feet, echoing with each step.  What disturbed her more was the lack of any scent.  The place did not even have the ‘clean’ smell.  It was just vacant, making her wonder if she had been placed in an empty building.  Perhaps she was a participant in some sort of giant lab rat maze?
    Such notions were banished, however, when she sensed movement, followed by voices from behind her.  She ran down the hall to the first intersection and turned, almost smacking into the front of a black leather coat.  There in front of her stood a bald man with the coldest grey eyes she had ever seen.
    She quickly recognized him.  “You- in the woods!”
    He smiled and took a step closer.
    She instinctively raised her hand to strike in fear.  To her surprise, she did not feel the excruciating pain in her hands and body, as when she felt fear before.  She glanced at her hand, both relieved and annoyed that there were no claws extending from under her fingernails.
    The man chuckled and reached out to grab her.  She snatched his arm and tried to twist and throw him.  But to her dismay, he remained stationary.  He spun her and pinned her arm, then lowered his mouth to her ear, “Going somewhere?” he whispered through his thick accent, “I think you should realize that you are powerless at the moment.
    “However,” he ran his finger along Mashka’s jawbone, “I’m not.”
     Despite her fear, she took a brief moment to recognise the irony.  Her capabilities normally terrified her, but at this time, she desperately wished to have them.
    Two security officers rounded the corner and one of them addressed him sternly, “Sir, if you are finished, The Administrator is ready to meet the subject.”
    “Of course,” The Czech smiled, “we need to introduce Gzha Sharova to her host.”
    After brushing some of her hair behind her ear, he released her and she backed away from him, trembling in fear.  The Czech gestured magnanimously, “If you come willingly I, unfortunately, have no reason to deal so familiarly.”
    Mashka obliged, but she kept ahead of The Czech.  She would rather be close to the guards, who felt like a form of protection at the moment, than near the bald creep.  She soon lost complete track of all the turns and elevator rides they made.  Her nausea made the trip even longer.
    At long last they arrived at an ornate wooden door, a striking contrast against the drab grey walls.  The security guard to her right opened it and politely guided her in, as if she was an honoured guest.  
    The room appeared to be a typical executive’s office.  Fancy bookshelves, wooden walls, and a large ornate desk, behind which sat an older gentleman in a plush office chair.  He smiled warmly.  His appearance was that of a Father Christmas that had gone to the gym, shaved and groomed his beard, and traded in robes in for a sharp business suit.     
    “Zdravstvuyte, Gzha Sharova,” his eyes sparkled kindly, “and welcome back home.”

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