One day I will rename these chapters so they make more sense...

I also want to take a moment to thank all my reviewers and everyone who's followed/favorite this story, you all are awesome!

RUSSIA; 1951

Like most days in the Russian tundra, it was snowing. The flakes fell lightly onto the ground and created earthbound clouds across the trees and landscape. Tucked away at the edge of a forest was a large, log cabin style mansion whose brown exterior and white roof blended with the surroundings. Smoke trailed lazily from the chimney of a lit, stone fireplace.

Inside the house, a large Russian man sat in a chair before the fire and browsed through a collection of Russian literature. A pair of reading glasses were perched delicately on the end of his nose and his eyes moved slowly across the page; taking in every word. Behind him, a small girl crept up to the back of the chair and peered around its edge.

"Boo!" She said.

The man turned to face the girl with a smile on his face, "Hello Zhanna. Is there something you need?"

The girl giggled and climbed up onto her brother's arm, "Yes. I want to go outside and play in the snow."

Misha turned his attention out the window to see the snow falling lazily to the earth, "It will be cold outside."

"I know," Zhanna said, "but I want to go and play. We never get to go outside."

Misha sighed. It was true, Zhanna and her sisters never really had a chance to go out and play, but it was for their own safety. Both he and his mother were worried that someone would come along to take them all back to the gulag.

"Okay, we can go outside. But, we will not go far from the house, ok?"

"Ok," Zhanna said.

Misha stood from the chair and set Zhanna on the ground. The girl was already dressed in a heavy down jacket and pants, so it only took a moment for Misha to put on his own coat and garb a shotgun form the rack. Together, the siblings made their way out the front door and into the snow.

Compared to most days, it wasn't all that cold outside. Zhanna instantly took off, leaving indented white trails in her wake. Misha smiled and shook his head. She was always so full of energy. Just like her sisters, she was eager to explore and discover the world. He, on the other hand, was content with his books and pondering philosophy by the fire late into the night.

In her frolicking, Zhanna rolled snow into balls, tossed it about, caught fresh flakes on her tongue and rolled around in the frozen water like most children would in a pile of leaves. Misha watched the surroundings for potential danger and kept an especially close eye on the woods backing up to their house. Soon, Zhanna tired of the reoccurring area and wandered over the crest of a small hill. Misha clutched his shotgun and followed her over.

"Misha!" she called before he'd reached the hill's peak, "Misha, come here! I found something."

Misha hurried through the thickening snow in case the find turned out to be a threat. To his relief, the girl was simply bent next to the ground, examining something. She looked back at him and pointed at the object.

"Look Misha."

Misha trudged over to the spot and bent down to investigate. In the snow, a brown patch of rough fabric stuck out sharply in the white fluff. Misha brushed away the snow with his glove and jumped back quickly when the fabric moved. Holding his shotgun with one hand and brushing off snow with the other, he uncovered a man in a brown uniform lying face down in the ice. On his right arm was a cross signifying him as a medic and on his left arm was a bright red Nazi swastika. Misha immediately stood and pushed Zhanna away from the man. He waited for the man to move, but he made no attempt. The man moaned and Misha realized he was barely breathing. A pang of sympathy rang out in the Russian's heart and he lowered his gun.

"Who's that Misha?" Zhanna asked.

Misha picked up the freezing man and slung him over his shoulder. The man wheezed slightly in response to the action.

"He needs our help," Misha said.

Zhanna nodded and trailed behind her brother as he made his way back to the house.

Once inside, Misha ordered Zhanna to go off and play while he dealt with the stranger. He brought the man to the kitchen and laid him on the dining table.

"Misha," his mother called, "is that you? Is everything alright I-"

She caught sight of the man on the table and gasped. "Misha! What...who is this?"

"I found him in the snow, he is nearly dead."

The mother eyed the band on the man's uniform, "We can't keep him here. They'll find us, or worse, he'll kill us."

Misha looked over at the man. He knew the risk of having him here, but he couldn't just let him freeze to death.

"We should kill him," the mother said.

Misha pointed to the medical cross on his arm, "No mother, we should keep him. Perhaps we can get him to set Yana's arm in exchange for his life."

"Mmh, okay. But don't you dare let him out of your sight."

Misha nodded and his mother went off to fix stew. On the table, the man stirred.

"H-hello?"

Misha raised an eyebrow at the man. He hadn't expected him to know Russian.

"Hello?" He repeated. He caught sight of Misha and recoiled weakly, "Where am I?"

"You're in my house," Misha said.

"Oh...am I dead?"

Misha shook his head, "No."

The man smiled and sat up weakly. His eyes moved about the room as he took in his surroundings.

"This is a very nice house."

Misha nodded, "Yes, it is. Why were you in the snow?"

The man looked down at his soaked coat, "I was running away from something. I got lost and, now I'm here. My name is Viktor Klauss, by the way."

"Misha," he said, pointing to himself, "You're a doctor, yes?"

Viktor glanced at the medic's symbol on his arm, "Yes, I am."

"Good. I need you to fix the arm of my sister. It is broken."

Viktor stood unsteadily from the table, "I can fix it... You know, I'm not actually a Nazi. My father gave me this coat to stay warm. And he said the medical cross is so people will be less likely to shoot at me."

"Good," Misha said, "it gives me less reason to kill you. Now come, you need to do your job."

Misha sat reading by the fire with Viktor reading alongside him. The German moved slowly through the book so he could properly pick up on the words.

"If you'd like, I can take you to the city tomorrow," Misha said.

Viktor eyed Misha from over the edge of his book. "The city? I...I don't know about the city. Do I have to go back?"

Misha turned the page of his book and readjusted his glasses, "You don't want to?"

"Nein," he whispered, "I don't want to. My father would not be happy with my failed return."

"What do you mean?"

Viktor bit the edge of his lip, "Well, just before I left, I was working on this project and it failed. I was sent out here to get a component of the experiment, sap from some tundra fir...I don't want to return a failure."

Misha nodded. He didn't necessarily understand the pride aspect, but he could see how that could affect the other man.

"You could stay here. After all, you did help our family."

"Really? I can? This is perfect. I'll be able to start over on my research and everything. Oh, there's so much to do."

Misha raised his eyebrow slightly, "What research?"

Viktor shot from his chair and set his book gently on the side table, "Research for a project that will change the world..." His expression darkened, "Research that would be completed," his fists clenched, "if it weren't for a good for nothing," he attacked the side table, smashing the wood frame with a violent blow.

Misha rose to his feet and moved toward Viktor.

Viktor darted away and attacked the bookshelf. He tore at the wood and ripped books from the shelf, "if it weren't for that backstabbing snake piece of shit! I!"

"Doctor," Misha said, "stop destroying things!"

Viktor punched the wall hard enough to crack the wood, "It was my father who told me to experiment on an assassin. Keep a member of the Resistance around the lab! It'll be /fine/."

"Viktor," Misha said as he grabbed Viktor's shoulders, "hit me."

Viktor paused for a moment, then took out all his rage on the massive Russian. Every few blows, Misha would stagger back a bit only to step forward and hold his ground again against the unrelenting force of the doctor. Eventually, Viktor did calm down and rest his head on Misha's chest.

Steadily, Misha wrapped his arms around the heavily breathing Viktor. "Do you feel better now?"

PARIS; present day

Medic pulled back out of Heavy's embrace, "Danke Herr Heavy."

"Is not problem Doktor." Heavy looked around at the others in the room, "Miss. Pauling, why are you here?"

Miss. Pauling smiled, "We're getting the team back together."

"Rest of team does not know who they are, like Heavy did?"

Medic nodded, "Ja. Ve have Spy as vell, but who you see here is who ve have."

"I see," Heavy rubbed his temple, "I am not feeling well."

Medic shuffled alongside his friend, "Don't vorry, it's just zhe after effects of getting your memory back. It vill go avay soon."

Miss. Pauling heard her phone ring and stepped aside to take the call.

"Hello?" she said.

Spy's voice came through clearly, "There's been a change of plan. I'm going to pick up our equipment before I meet up with you again."

"We have Heavy."

"...You found him? I'll have to...never mind. You should plan to eat in the city tonight, I won't be back for quite some time. Do you have money?"

Miss. Pauling pursed her lips, "We'll figure something out."

Spy sighed lightly and hung up the line.

"Finished with your personal call?"

Spy turned back to his old colleague, "Indeed, now, about my car..."

"Yes," the man said, "that. As it would be, we do have your vehicle in our custody. As for your equipment request? We can fill that too. However, there are a few, complications."

Spy raised an eyebrow, "Complications?"

The man leaned forward, placed his elbows on the desk and neatly clasped his hands, "It's been over two years since you've done anything for the Guild, Thief. We can't exactly trust you anymore."

"I've been a member my whole life and suddenly you can't trust me?"

The man shrugged, "Look, it would be fine except that you disappeared without notice or explanation. It seems fishy to us. But, I will give you one chance to redeem yourself," he slid a file folder across the desk to Spy, "Show me you're still an asset, then we'll talk business."

Spy opened the folder. Quickly, his eyes scanned the information within, "I'll do it."

The man gave Spy a sideways smile, "Good. Let's hope you're still who you used to be Asashin"

"Please, just give us five more minutes."

The waiter glared down at Miss. Pauling, "Fine Madam, but this is the last five minutes."

Miss. Pauling smiled broadly until the waiter walked away. She sighed heavily and laid her head on the table.

The restaurant had long since cleared out. Waiters and waitresses bustled about, trying to clean up before closing. The only reason the team had been allowed to stay was because Miss. Pauling had given all of Jaques money to the restaurant.

Medic and Heavy were fast asleep on the cushioned booth. Both had passed out immediately after dinner and hadn't moved since. Engineer had been working on his phone, but was beginning to drift off.

Miss. Pauling groaned, "Where's Spy?"

"Right behind you."

Miss. Pauling and Dell perked up to find Spy standing in the dim light of the closing eatery.

Miss. Pauling sat back and crossed her arms, "What took you so long."

Spy slid into the booth next to Heavy, "There were some...complications."

Miss. Pauling sighed, "Spy, what happened."

Spy leaned closer to the table, "I had to eh, take care, of a certain Capo Bastone for an old friend of mine."

"Oh...oh."

Spy nudged Heavy awake, "We should go... Come, the car's parked out front."

Heavy picked up the sleeping Medic and the group made their way outside. The dark streets in front of the restaurant were void of people. Along the curb, a variety of cars were parked neatly bumper to bumper. Of the cars, the largest on the street was a bright red sports car. Spy moved towards the car and took his place in the front seat. Miss. Pauling took up the passenger's place while the remaining three slipped into the back seat.

Waiting for them on the dark leather seats was an array of weapons suited for the three classes.

Dell picked up a silver barreled shotgun with a carved wood stock. He weighed the weapon in his hand. It was much nicer than anything Mann Co. had ever sold to him, "Hell Spy, where'd ya get these?"

The car's engine roared to life, "I have a certain set of contacts that fabricate specialized weaponry."

Heavy stroked the edge of his steel plated minigun, "Is much better than terrible gun Mann Co. tried to sell. Brass Beast is powerful, but does not last long."

"Indeed. However, Natasha should suit your needs just as well as Sasha did."

Heavy smiled and set the gun on the floor of the car, "Yes, Heavy will kill many robots with this."

Jackie fell flat on his back into the clean cut grass. The edges of his vision blurred and made the white clouds above smudge together. His legs were numb and his heart hammered quickly in his chest. He flicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The metallic taste of iron greeted his taste buds.

"Ya aren't gonna accomplish anythin just lyin there."

Jackie glared up at his older brother "What would you know Ronald?"

Ronald grabbed Jackie's hand and hoisted him to his feet, "Trust me, it's gonna get better. Ya just gotta run one more heat."

Jackie looked around at the other runners. Most of them seemed up and ready for the next race. They were cool and energized, not hot and exhausted like Jackie.

"I can't do it," Jackie mumbled.

Ronald turned his brother's shoulders so they stood face to face, "That's not true."

"C'mon Ronald, these guys are in way bettah shape than me."

Ronald shrugged, "So? You made it to the final heat. You're just as good as them, bettah even. I don't care what kinda shape they're in, you're way more determined."

"I dunno..."

Ronald looked Jackie in the eye, "Hey, you can do it. Now, get out there and kick some ass!"

Jackie smiled weakly. He wasn't exactly sure how much ass kicking he'd be doing.

A whistle blew and six boys lined up at the starting line. Jackie adjusted his starting block, then dug his cleats into the metal and asphalt. From his crouched position, he breathed deeply in preparation for the race. He could feel others warming up beside him, but his gaze was focused on the track ahead.

The whistle beeped two times in rapid succession. Each runner crouched in their starting block.

The referee stood by the edge of the track, "On your mark."

Jackie tensed. His heart raced. He had to keep his breathing steady.

"Get set."

Jackie got into a starting position. His muscles tightened. Sweat trickled along his hairline. He caught sight of Ronald near the finish line. The older brother flashed the younger a quick thumbs up.

"Go!"

The starting gun sounded and Jackie charged from his starting block. Right from the start, his lungs burned. He ignored the pain, he had to do this.

Just two hundred meters he told himself.

He was lagging in the middle. He needed to be up front. He willed his legs to run harder. The hard asphalt radiated heat. It felt as though he was running on fire. Jackie focused on the heat. His body screamed for him to stop, he ignored it. Then, fifty meters before the finish line, he felt himself start to give up.

"C'mon Jackie!" Ronald screamed, "You can do this! Fiddy more meters, don't give up!"

Jackie looked at the finish with a new sense of drive. He couldn't disappoint his brother. There was no way he was going to give up now, not after Ronald had gotten him through to the end. He had to win, for Ronald. Jackie gathered all his remaining strength together. With a small yell, he flew across the track to the finish.

Heart pounding painfully against his ribs, Jackie slowed to a stop. Immediately, he doubled over to catch his breath. Black spots swam across his vision.

Robert ran over and pulled Jackie into a hug, "You did it man! You won by two seconds! I knew you could do it."

Jackie beamed and allowed himself to pass out in his brother's arms...

Jackie awoke slowly to find himself sitting in the back of a small rental car. Up front, Demo drove while his mother slept on the passenger's side. Scout rubbed his eyes and peered out the window. Neon signs and street lamps flashed before his eyes. The onslaught of motion made his head spin, forcing him to turn away.

"Ahy, Scout, yer awake."

Scout blinked lazily at Demo, "Yeah."

"How are ya feelin?"

Scout inhaled slowly, "Pretty, uh, pretty good."

"Good that..."

Scout furrowed his brow. There was something he wanted to talk about, "I had this weird dream."

Demo shifted in the driver's seat, "Ahy?"

"It was like one of my memories, like when I was a kid, ya know?"

Demo nodded, "I know what yer talkin about. When I first got me memory back, I had one o them memory dreams."

Scout picked at the loose threads of the back seat. It hadn't occurred to him that Demo had lost his memory too, "Whaddid you remember?"

Demo smiled wryly, "You go first, lad."

Scout groaned, "Fine. I was runnin a race as kid and I won. It was actually pretty great. I was in first the whole time and when I won, the crowd was cheerin my name. They were all, you're the best Scout! And I was all, yeah! Man, that was a good race."

Demo sighed. If only his memory had been so nice, "I remembered me da. He came home from his last job of the day an sat down with me mum and I for dinner. We were laughin and talkin all night...about stupid stuff, like the Loch Ness monster...and mediocre wizards..."

"Sounds nice," Scout whispered.

The two men sat in a silence broken only by the occasional snore from Demo's mom.

Scout's leg bounced uncontrollably. He didn't like the emptiness the silence left behind.

Carefully, he peered around the edge of the seat at Demo. A cheeky smile spread across his face, "Hey yo bagpipes, when'd ya get so fat?"

Demo glared briefly behind him, "Oi! I've been a bloody food critique for two years. It's not my fault."

Scout reclined into the fabric seats, "Yeah, yeah, whatever makes ya feel bettah."

Demo groaned and laid his head temporarily on the steering wheel. This was going to be a long ride.

Ok, it took me a long time to come out with chapter 8, but, for one reason or another, I've had a sudden surge of ideas for this story (no joke, I'm half way done with 10 already). Just wanted to share that. Thank you all for reading this far!