"Liam Kiosky." The man said, offering a hand to me. I was never one for physical contact, but when I looked at his hand, I have to admit I was disgusted. It looked like the man hadn't washed it in years. I imagine it probably stunk to high heaven, too; if it weren't for the fact my nose was stopped up, I would have been subjected to that stench. Thank God I wasn't.

"Oh yeah, it's a bit grimy, isn't it?" He now looked at his hand, then wiped it off on his trousers before returning it to where it had been before me.

I placed my journal under my armpit, in return. "Riley Puter." I said, reaching out a hand.

He grabbed it immediately, shook it like it was a Yatzi shaker, then let my arms fall limp to my side. "Pleased to meet you, Mister Puter."

I looked at my hand; he had managed to exchange quite a bit of… whatever was on his hand with me.

He placed his handgun in its holster. Picking up an assault rifle, he looked at me, " Ever had to use a weapon of this caliber before?" Liam attempted to hand me the gun.

"No, and I'd rather not." I took a step back.

He shrugged, then placed the gun strap over his shoulder. He looked up at the ceiling, " That's a nasty hole, eh?" He pointed with his index finger. He spun around slowly, craning his neck further and further as he searched for something that ,apparently, the hole must contain. Liam laughed, then walked over to the shelves containing, what appeared to be, boxes of ammo.

"Yes, it is a nasty hole, which you created. I don't understand why you did that, if you would have knocked on the door, like civilized human, I would have gladly just opened it." I stated, now placing my journal in my satchel.

Kiosky was still examining the shelves, " Well, then, excuse me for not knocking. Though I think that you have more sense than to actually open the door. Plus, I didn't even know anyone was in here!" As he took a box off the shelf and emptied its contents into an ammo pouch, I looked him over. He was pretty tall, at least five foot eight, with unruly hair that was graying. His eyes were a very pale blue, almost gray. He was wearing a green striped dress shirt, all of the buttons were missing, and there were smears of some greenish yellow substance, hints of red here and there. His black undershirt was torn near the top seams. He was wearing khaki pants and a brown belt. His black dress shoes were scuffed and wore out on the soles. Liam had several arsenal weapons; a handgun in a holster, a rifle, a shotgun, an automatic, and another handgun, under his belt.

He took another box off the self. " What do you want me to call you? Liam? Kiosky? Do you have some sort of nickname or something?" I asked. It was to my knowledge that when confronted with a seemingly uncivilized man, to do your best not to insult him. He might not want me to use his first name, then again he might feel like I'm trying to preemptively emotionally detach myself from him by calling him Kiosky.

"What kind of question is that?" Liam paused and looked back at me, " Call me whatever the fuck you want, man! AS long as I know who you're talking to, I really don't give a shit!"

Ah, a man who uses obscenities.

"Okay, I guess I'll call you Kiosky," I paused for a second, " you can call me Riley or Puter, whatever works for you."

"I'll keep that in mind." He turned back to the shelves, now shaking several boxes and listening to its contents. I watched him for a while; he looked like he knew what he was doing, at least.

I had to admit, the man had given me quite a scare when he'd shown up.

I embarked on this 'vacation' to study the biology of functioning mutated human beings. I paid for everything out of my own pocket. I didn't mind though, it was a welcomed opportunity. They needed someone to present the facts, I needed an excuse to get away- again. I arrived at this particular outpost outside of Bosnia, Russia. I was greeted by a group of men in white camouflage uniforms. They said that they were preparing live specimen! They instructed me to wait in a painfully boring room, completely white, dimly lit, with a television receiving only local channels. I don't speak Russian. After two hours of that, a man came to get me and very calmly told me to follow him. He was walking a little fast, wouldn't tell me where we were going, either. We turned down several corridors until I heard a noise behind us,. It was an echo, a sharp one. It sounded choked, like someone was speaking while gagging, and not dryly. Then there were several loud bangs, something fell, something cracked, more echoes of guttural sounds. I was about to question him on it, but he picked up the pace, told me to head straight down the hallway, still very calm. I was about to obey when the man grabbed my arm, He pulled something out from under his vest; a piece of folder paper and what appeared to be a data chip. " Don't open that piece of paper until you're somewhere where you can access a computer to look at the data on that chip. Understand?" I nodded in response, placing the chip and the paper in the front pocket of my satchel. He looked back down the hallway, toward the sounds growing louder and less of an echo, then turned back to me. He pushed me forward, causing me to stumble a bit, and then instructed me to run. He was right behind me.

He was breathing heavily, there was a fork coming up. He started sprinting, pulling me along with him. " He stopped at the fork and turned right, instructing me to continue forward. " Tell HQ that Yurick made the delivery. Remember: Yurick. Do not open that door once you get inside! For anyone!" He did not wait for a conformation, I nodded as he turned down the hallway, practically leaping. I continued on my way. When I entered the ammo storage facility, the doors locked automatically. I sighed heavily, placing my hands on my knees. It was dark when I first came in, I could not find the light switch for quite some time. For several hours, maybe four, I heard those same choking, clogging noises and what sounded like the destruction of wood. I kept quiet. I did not know what was going on ( I still don't know what's going on), but I played along, it must be some time of drill. I did not want to upset the directors of the outpost by messing up a simulation, plus, I really wanted to get a chance to examine the specimen. I had nothing to do and it was far too quiet, so I began to read my own research journal, editing here and there; I had been meaning to buy a new one, but the journey was scheduled within hours of my last deployment.

Twenty-Eight pages into editing and there was an extremely loud bang, almost like an explosion, as if someone had set off fireworks right next to my ear. I looked up, terrified, trying to scramble to my feet; shotgun holes in the ceiling. There was pounding above me, stomps most likely, as I dragged my non-responsive legs across the floor to join the rest of my body in the corner of the room. I clutched onto the cover of my journal. Then there was a thud, , I had my eyes closed. A grunt, a sharp intake of breath, heels clicking against tile, the cocking of a gun. I shut my eyes tighter.

Then there was a whistle , a high pitched one, but not loud, I opened my eyes, and looked at the figure a few feet in front of me. He whistled again, louder this time. I blinked. " Oh, so you're not one of them?"

I pushed myself up off the ground by my heels and palm. I stared at him, then looked at the hole in the ceiling. Cold air was now seeping rushing into the room. "Huh?" I asked, completely oblivious to what he was talking about. " Uhm, I don't believe so." I didn't know if this was a good or bad thing. That's when he offered his name, and I let out a breath of relief.

Kiosky stepped away from the shelf, examining what was left. He turned back to me, " How much room do you have in your purse."

" It's, er, not a purse. It's a satchel, and I've got plenty of room." I said, removing it from my shoulder, holding it out to him.

He Took it from me and emptied several boxes that said 'magnum' on them into it He reached behind him under him shirt, retrieving another handgun, a different one from before. He placed that in there, too before handing my satchel back to me.