Author's note: well, it has been a while... BUUUUUUUUUT hopefully this super-informative chapter will make up for it! :D

"It's him!" Anton repeated, a bit hysterically, and looked from Vitaly to Mikhail again, who was still unmoving and silent:

"You know him?" Vitaly asked, hopeful, and at a loss of what to do clutched to Alexei's shoulder, who let out a little pained whimper.

The sound was enough to snap Mikhail out of his frozen state and the snork hurriedly crawled back to his hiding-place under the desk. He was still silent and kept observing Anton with wide eyes.

Anton followed the snork's movements, and for a moment didn't answer Vitaly. Even though he couldn't see, he could feel Mikhail looking back at him, and shivered:

"Uh… I… I knew his older brother, Vasyl," the soldier told, staring with sunken eyes at the place where he knew Mikhail was observing him. "Vasyl Savych Savaryn and his little brother Mikhail Savych Savaryn… We were neighbours, in Kiev… I… Vasyl and I were friends since kindergarten."

The soldier paused and took in a shallow breath. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he looked away from where he knew Mikhail was and looked up, to Vitaly and Alexei. His face was ashen and his eyes, though staring at Vitaly and Alexei, were focused inwards:

"We lived in Kiev, yes… Near the downtown… We played in the street and at each other's places. Vasyl was three years older than Mikhail," He paused again, smiling absentmindedly. "Heck, Vasyl would break your head open if you dared to touch Mikhail, he was a hell of an overprotective bastard."

Anton chuckled and looked down to the floor, feeling a new unpleasant shiver, and both Vitaly and Alexei ended up sitting or kneeling next to him:

"We were young and stupid… we joined the Army at eighteen. Infantry," the soldier bit his lower lip and frowned. "Some weeks later… no, months… anyway, shortly after… shortly after Vasyl's parents died in a car crash. Mikhail was only fifteen, they didn't have any other relatives alive and, since Vasyl was doing the recruit and had to stay in the barracks, Mikhail had to go an orphanage. That didn't affect him, though; for what I remember Mikhail was always a nice kid, well-mannered, well-behaved… of course, Vasyl was always there for him, whenever he could leave the barracks."

Another pause and the soldier looked at where he knew the snork was. He forgot Vitaly and Alexei where there and proceeded, talking to the snork, but acting like he didn't know him at all:

"Mikhail was eighteen when he joined the Army, after his big brother. He did the recruit in the same barracks as us. Heck, Vasyl was thrilled, couldn't stop bragging about his little brother-"

"When was he born?" Vitaly interrupted in a whisper, afraid to disturb the soldier. Anton frowned, thoughtful:

"Uh… Vasyl… Vasyl was as old as me, we were born in 1983."

Vitaly nodded; then Mikhail had been born in 1986. Which meant he was 26 years old:

"After the recruit, Mikhail enrolled in the paratrooper course. Everyone told him he wouldn't make it, that he was too small… in the end, Mikhail was the best of his regiment. Vasyl went over the moon, of course…" Anton smiled sadly. "Good times, our division and Mikhail's regiment shared the barracks…" His smile died. "Then in January, 2006, Mikhail's regiment was deployed… to the Zone."

A new pause and Anton looked to Vitaly and Alexei, his eyes still focused inwards:

"Mikhail and Vasyl exchanged some letters. I think Mikhail never said his exact location, only that they were guarding lab complexes… but… but Vasyl confided me his little brother told him strange things happened. That everything was strange."

"Do you have those letters?" Vitaly interrupted, excitedly. His enthusiasm dropped considerably when Anton shook his head, sadly:

"I don't know what happened to those letters… Confiscated, maybe… Anyway… in March Vasyl was very nervous, and I asked him if something had happened to Mikhail. He said his little brother had told him he and his entire regiment and everybody in their location had a sudden and massive headache for two hours straight, and the pain was so intense many fainted, including Mikhail. Vasyl also said Mikhail told him everyone felt nauseous for the rest of the day and that his little brother felt a strange emptiness, a hollowness like he had never felt before. He said Mikhail was scared. Vasyl was very over-protective of his brother, he told me once Mikhail was back, they were both leaving the Army…" Anton sighed and shut his eyes, clenching his jaw. "The thing is… Mikhail never came back… and that letter in March was his last."

"A guy told me about an experiment in March! It was repeated in April, for a longer time, and seems that's the one that fucked up everything!" Alexei exclaimed, rocking himself back and forth:

"But what kind of experiment?" Vitaly asked urgently and Anton shrugged:

"Some bullshit to change the human psyche, stop all the wars, etcetera…" Anton explained and was cut off by Vitaly:

"Is it possible that Mikhail started to mutate in that first experiment?"

"Doctor, I don't know! I just know what Vasyl told me, and he told me his little brother wasn't feeling well!" The older soldier shook his head again. "Vasyl was never the same again… and when we were deployed to the Zone, in 2009, to this very base, Vasyl deserted. He told me he was going to find his little brother and go home with him," Anton's voice broke and his eyes, grey and tired, filled with tears. "He left, one night, little after we arrived. Didn't come back… I found him, days later, during a patrol; dead, by the roadside… he didn't go far, something attacked him and killed him… My best friend was dead."

Anton dried the tears to the back of his hands and spent some time in silence, looking down. Then he stood up, slowly, grimacing as he stretched his legs, and both Alexei and Vitaly scrambled to their feet as well. Anton sighed and unbuttoned his uniform jacket:

"I… I think you should have these," he muttered, reaching for something in a secret pocket he had sewed in the inside of his jacket. "Might be helpful, I don't know…" Anton handed Vitaly two pictures; one with two soldiers and another one the portrait of just one soldier. The pictures were stained (blood, Vitaly presumed) and the colour was fading in the corners, but the faces of the soldiers were perfectly clear. Anton pointed the soldiers together in one of the pictures. "Vasyl and Mikhail, the day Mikhail finished the recruit."

Vitaly stared at the picture; Vasyl and Mikhail were the image of each other, both blond, blue-eyed and with very typical Slavic facial features. But Vasyl was tall and built, and Mikhail was much shorter than his older brother and much slender. They were smiling, arms thrown around each other's waists, posing in front of a dirty building in a cloudy day.

"And this one, this was taken little after Mikhail finished the paratrooper course," Anton proceeded, pointing the portrait. Vitaly looked closer, studying the picture.

So, that was how Mikhail had looked like. With the uniform and the paratrooper's blue beret. It wasn't very different from his current state, but it was a significant difference nonetheless; Mikhail had had pale skin and freckles, his bright blue eyes had looked alive and shiny, had had his blond hair in neat buzz cut and had had fleshy lips curved in a nice smile. His face hadn't been as thinner as it was now, and his eyes hadn't given out savagery and bloodthirst. His nose had been straight, a little turn-up, and Vitaly immediately imagined several scenarios in which Mikhail the snork had gotten his nose broken:

"He didn't change much!" Alexei commented, looking at the picture. Anton smiled sadly:

"No, no he didn't…"

"He doesn't have freckles anymore," Vitaly stated, and that was something worth investigating. "Tell me, Anton… how was he like?"

"Uh, I didn't know him very well but… I always thought him a good kid. Well-behaved, well-mannered, extroverted but not loud… He wasn't bad to hang out with. Why do you ask?"

"So, he wasn't aggressive… cunning… curious?" Vitaly looked to the place where Mikhail was hiding, a million questions popping in his head:

"Hm, not that I remember…"

"You said he was a paratrooper… does that imply, let's say, hand-to-hand combat?"

"Basic," Anton smiled. "But Vasyl and Mikhail had Kickboxing in high school. Vasyl had Jiu-Jitsu for a year or two as well… taught his little brother some moves… they used to play-fight a lot, Mikhail was smaller but faster than his brother."

Vitaly nodded, slowly:

"You say he was faster… tell me more about his physical abilities."

Anton sighed sadly and scratched his head:

"Doctor, I don't know in detail… I just know he was a good soldier, so I presume he was strong and fast and agile enough…"

"Do you know his blood type? Or Vasyl's?"

"Uhh… Vasyl was B positive, I think… maybe Mikhail has the same blood type as him…? Vasyl had a certain tendency for anaemia, too…"

"Do you have Vasyl's wallet, or other documents? There might be a reference to Mikhail…"

"Sorry, Doctor… I just have the pictures, because I found them in his body… His personal belongings… it was all confiscated…"

Alexei shyly pulled Vitaly's sleeve, much like a child:

"Look, Doc… we have to go, we've been missing for a while…"

"Of course," Vitaly nodded, then smiled widely, looking at both soldiers. "Thank you. A lot."

Alexei bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, delighted for having done something right. Anton merely bowed his head in acknowledgement.

When both soldiers left, Vitaly spent some more time studying the pictures, then made his way to his desk and lied on his belly on the floor, looking at Mikhail:

"So, you're older than me!" the young scientist said conversationally, but that didn't change Mikhail's deadpan expression. "And you're from Kiev and had an older brother. And you were a paratrooper, just like I told you!"

Mikhail's deadpan expression changed drastically to a glower. Why wouldn't Vitaly leave that alone? Why was he constantly insisting that the snork hadn't always been a snork, why had he summoned that soldier that Mikhail didn't know… but felt otherwise?

Vitaly placed both pictures on the floor, in front of Mikhail:

"If whatever mutated you was meant to change only the human psyche, then maybe it was something else that changed your physical look…" the young scientist suggested, distracted.

The snork frowned and looked at the pictures. More soldiers. He was sick of soldiers. Why was Vitaly showing him these soldiers, what was the point? Mikhail didn't recognise them, he obviously couldn't memorise the faces of all of his preys or the faces of everybody he had crossed paths with.

Yet again something stirred in the back of his mind, something unpleasant and cold, something painful, and the snork felt gradually empty, a hollow that had nothing to do with the state of unconsciousness of deep sleep. It made him powerless and weak. And there was pain and a sudden and intense distress that made Mikhail shake his head violently, like he expected all that anguish to go away with the gesture. But then came the voices, muffled in the distance, imperceptible, and screams, at first weak, and finally that scream, the haunting scream that chilled him to the marrow.

Mikhail didn't want to acknowledge the soldiers in the pictures. Didn't want to see them again. Didn't want to hear. What was done could not be undone, he knew it, and Vitaly would either stop trying to dig too deep or would eventually destroy Mikhail.

With a snarl, the mutant slapped the pictures away and curled up, growling.

Vitaly frowned and picked up the discarded pictures:

"Misha, that's not nice! I'm trying to help," he grumbled, and that made the snork snarl with a hint of – it seemed to Vitaly – disdain. He stood up and decided to hide the pictures somewhere safe, in a drawer of his desk. "Anton said you were a nice guy, but lately you've been everything but nice, Misha…"

Slowly, Mikhail crawled from under the desk, casting a grievous look at Vitaly. How could he be nice if Vitaly didn't stop poking around things that were not to be poked, asking things that were not the be asked, supposing things that were not to be supposed… as if he wanted to make Mikhail go mad…

As if he wanted to destroy Mikhail.

That was not how a pack worked, the snork concluded and tilted his head sideways, his eyes following Vitaly as he moved back and forth talking to himself. About a Mikhail the snork didn't know. Did not know.

It was twice Vitaly did that, bringing him harm. Pack members did not harm each other.

It was either Mikhail or Vitaly, and the snork wouldn't allow Vitaly to destroy him.

Thinking about all the discomfort and pain Vitaly had lately brought him, Mikhail leaped at Vitaly. The snork heard himself snarl among the screams that still echoed in his mind, causing him a headache. He felt his booted feet collide with Vitaly's chest and push him, effortlessly, and watched as Vitaly widened his eyes in surprise and fell backwards, completely out of balance.

Mikhail rolled to absorb shock from the fall and turned around immediately, growling.

Vitaly was lying on the floor, limbs sprawled awkwardly, his eyes closed. Mikhail approached him, slowly and warily; at any moment, his opponent would do something, would attack, would try to reach out for him, would-

He noticed a small puddle of blood forming under Vitaly's head.

And, for a moment, Mikhail simply stared at the puddle, curiously, watching it slowly increase in size. Vitaly still didn't move.

Then Mikhail frowned and shook his head. The screaming in his head was gone, and so were his growls. He looked at Vitaly again, slowly widening his eyes. The puddle of blood was getting bigger.

With a snarl, the snork trotted to the door, opened it and bolted to the kitchen. The cooker had to be there.

The cooker wasn't an immediate threat.

In fact, the cooker was sitting on the impractical human nest in front of the electrical box. He was unaware of Mikhail's presence, and only noticed the mutant when Mikhail jumped to the couch and landed beside him. The cooker jumped to his feet, cursing aloud, and hurried to hide behind the television and looked around frantically:

"Doctor, your snork's on the loose again!" he cried, terrified, looking at the mutant and expecting the snork to unleash mayhem upon him.

But the snork just jumped to the floor, looking from the cooker to the door. And Vitaly, who would usually show up little after the snork, hadn't arrived yet.

The cooker frowned:

"What?" he asked the mutant, who kept looking from him to the door. The mutant looked… slightly distressed? Like… like there was something urgent and he didn't know exactly what to do about it. Slowly, the cooker stepped away from his hiding place. Mikhail then began to trot to the door, occasionally glancing over his shoulder, and the cooker decided to follow the mutant. "Where is Doctor Fedor?"

He followed the snork through the corridor and into one of the labs, where he found Vitaly unconscious on the floor. The cooker widened his eyes in horror and looked at the snork, who was then crawling under Vitaly's desk:

"I'll get help!" the cooker promised, and ran to the door that leaded to the upper floor.

The cooker's help arrived little later and, much for Mikhail's dismay, consisted of two soldiers. But the soldiers weren't there for him; they simply moved Vitaly to a transporting device and left.

Mikhail stood in his hiding place for a long time, until he felt safe enough to crawl out.

When he did, the lab felt oddly silent and empty. Outside in the Zone, Mikhail would have been highly alert, expecting a sudden attack. But there, in the lab, with no mutants, the snork realised the danger was the puddle of now dried blood on the floor.

The snork looked at it, frowning. Half of him felt attracted by it, but the other half… the other half feared it, loathed it, didn't want to see it. Mikhail turned his back to the puddle of blood.

He had attacked Vitaly three times now. Had injured him twice. Part of him felt it had been well done, but… had it really? He had attacked Vitaly consciously, well-aware that he wanted to destroy him because Vitaly was causing him harm.

Yet it wasn't physical harm. Had Vitaly been aware of that? That he was harming Mikhail?

The snork looked over his shoulder, to the puddle of blood, and wanted to believe the young scientist wouldn't harm him in purpose. What reasons had he? What had Mikhail done wrong, to deserve to have screaming inside his mind, and pieces of memories that weren't his, and the ghost of pain and despair haunting him when he had done nothing to disturb whatever had been lying in peace?

Vitaly frowned and opened his eyes, slowly.

He was in a white room, staring at the ceiling. What was he doing on the floor? No, actually… he was in a bed. Yes, it was soft, with pillows… so, he wasn't in the lab. How couldn't he be in the lab? He had work to do!

Also… there was something tight around his head. Maybe it was causing the headache – yes, Vitaly felt it now, a nasty headache, particularly annoying in the back of his head. He groaned, feeling sluggish, and raised a hand to touch his head.

Now wait a minute, is this an IV? Vitaly widened his eyes and tried to chance to a sitting position, but his headache… well, it was a really nasty one:

"I don't think you should move, Doctor," said a voice, and Vitaly turned his head to look at the source of it.

The cooker. This was either a weird dream, or something he couldn't remember had happened…:

"Uh," Vitaly said, eloquently. The cooker patted his shoulder amiably and stood up from the chair he had been sitting on:

"I'll get the medic," the cooker said with a smile.

Vitaly looked around quickly; he was in the infirmary. He had an IV – he felt suddenly nauseous about it and hurried to look away – and there was this oxygen mask on his face, that he clumsily got rid of:

"Uh… where…'s… where's Misha?" he asked before the cooker had managed to reach the other side of the infirmary and get through the door. The cooker froze, hesitated, then went back to sit on the chair next to Vitaly. He looked concerned, and there was something worrying him:

"I… He took me to you, Doctor… He showed up, looked like he wanted me to follow… I did, and he took me to the lab. And there you were, unconscious,"

Vitaly frowned; he couldn't recall that. His last memory was talking to Anton about Mikhail. Vitaly shook his head, slowly, and his headache increased, making him sink miserably into the pillows behind his back:

"I can't remember that…"

"The medic said that apparently, you just broke the skull… He said… it takes a nasty blow to the head to break the skull," the cooker looked down and shrugged. "I'm not… I'm not implying anything… and it was your snork who called for help… but…"

"Misha would never attack me!" Vitaly smiled. "Maybe I stumbled on something… and fell. I… I vaguely remember falling… backwards,"

"I'm just glad you woke up, Doctor," the cooker looked up at him again and smiled. "You scared me!"

Vitaly felt a little embarrassed for that; falling and getting his skull broken by his own clumsiness and scaring the cooker, who was such a good friend. Poor Mikhail, he was probably-

Mikhail had pushed him.

Mikhail had jumped at him. Vitaly suddenly remembered how terrifying it had been… because he was so tall, and the floor was so down there, and Mikhail was so small, and had been crouching on the floor, that was so down there… and suddenly Mikhail had been high up in the air, hitting him in the chest with surgical precision, knocking the air out of him and sending him freefalling backwards. There had been an impact, something had cracked ominously…:

"… Doctor Fedor, are you listening?"

Vitaly blinked his eyes quickly and looked up. The cooker had called the medic and the latter was looking at him attentively, pointing a small flashlight at his right eye, then at his left. Vitaly flinched:

"Uh… yes,"

"Do you feel nauseous?"

"No."

"Is the world spinning?"

"No."

"Can you tell me your name?" And the flashlight was gone and Vitaly blinked his eyes quickly again:

"Vitaly Fedor."

"Can you count to ten?" Which Vitaly did. "Now backwards?" Which Vitaly did again. "Do you remember how you fell?"

Vitaly hesitated, then looked down:

"I hit my desk and lost my balance…" he mumbled. The medic nodded and stood up from the chair previously occupied by the cooker:

"Apparently, you just broke your skull. But I'm going to run a MRI scan on you, ok?"

Vitaly just nodded, slowly.

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