"Hit!", echoed through the trees.

"Hit!", again.

"Hit! For fuck's sake!"

"Language, Sasha-"

"But it's true, that guy is a goddamn monster!"

Otabek frowned in his hideaway, overhearing the conversation between the two opponents while still trying to keep an eye open for the rest of the team. He had found and eliminated the sniper, the supporter and one of the infantries, so there was only the second infantry player and the scout left. He had heard one of them in the distant right before eliminating the supporter and Sasha, the first infantry player, who had taken up position close to each other. He suspected it was the scout, a guy with a long red beard, who didn't look like he played the same position as Otabek due to his height but who had turned out to be very agile. He probably should withdraw and secure the position of his team's sniper, a young nurse named Tanya, who hadn't been spotted yet, but who could be the key advantage in the match now.

"He's good, that's true. A little scary though, don't you think?"

"I'm not scared of that guy's frown!", Sasha exclaimed as Otabek checked the magazine of his Heckler & Koch MP7 A1.

"Yeah, sure", the supporter said, "I meant his grimness more, actually…" She chuckled. "Let's get out of the area, I need a smoke."

"Yup, me too."

Otabek checked the magazine of the Walther P99 as well as the silencer attached to the muzzle, then secured the MP7 with the strap. He'd use the smaller gun to try and eliminate the other scout if he approached Tanya. He had heard the friendly infantry, Kolya and the medic, Dimitrii, being hit earlier, so Borya, the supporter must be around somewhere, too. Not like he could stand a chance with the minigun he carried. The thing was unstoppable and had a very wide range with a high firing rate, but the scattering was not to be underestimated and depending on how skilled Redbeard really was Borya was easy prey for him. They had decided that Borya would roam the area around Tanya's position to lure the infantry closer, but right in the beginning Otabek had missed a chance to eliminate the opponent scout and maybe that would cost them the match. On the other hand Tanya had a really sharp eye, so it was highly possible that she'd spot Redbeard before he had the chance to come too close. And he must be aware that Otabek was still out there somewhere, too.

With a motion that was swift despite his still sore muscles he got up and circled the grass-covered hill so that even if Redbeard was after him he'd not give away Tanya's position in the rock formation in the northern part of the field to where she should have moved by now. If they were lucky Redbeard assumed she was still hiding between the car wrecks a little farther south and would run right into her target zone. Making his way through the scrub he avoided open spaces, ducking between bushes and hurrying from tree to tree, so that he stayed covered. He was about to ascend the hill when he heard the sound of a shot in a distance, after some moments a second one. Certainly not Borya with the minigun. It had sounded like Tanya's spring sniper rifle that she seeded to reload after every single shot. The shots had not come from the rock formation though but all the way back from the wooden lookout near the main gate.

Hissing lowly Otabek turned. It wasn't like Tanya to shoot recklessly and without being very sure that she'd hit. The fact that she had fired twice without a "Hit" being called out meant that she had reason to panic - and that could only mean that Redbeard had found out about her position and attacked her. Why she had not stuck to the plan and moved to the rock formation like they had discussed in the briefing before the match Otabek could only guess. But there was no other option than hurrying over there and hoping that he was fast enough to save her before Redbeard eliminated her. Chances were high now that the second infantry player had come to the same conclusion as him and made his way to the position as well, just in case he wasn't around there already. He had to assume now that Borya had already moved over to the rock formation as planned, so Otabek could not count on him to catch up in time to provide essential support to him.

He ran so fast it made his lung burn, dodging branches of trees and jumping over roots when he heard Tanya's "Hit!" He cursed between clenched teeth.

It was him against Redbeard now, probably against the remaining infantry too.

He found the guy with the HK 416 luring between the trees, likely pondering if he should enter the lookout and hope to eliminate them from there. He hit him with the muted Walther from behind and heard a low groan before the infantry player called out his "Hit!". He turned around with a lopsided grin that only showed how embarrassed he was about being such an easy target and started storing away his gun.

Otabek took a moment to catch his breath. He could wait and hope that Borya would show up eventually and work out a plan with him but it would leave them vulnerable in the meantime and Redbeard knew now that he was here. He didn't even know how long it would take for the supporter to arrive. The only thing he was sure about was from which direction he'd come - and maybe that was his advantage. With a nod towards the eliminated infantry he turned around and ran in the opposite direction. He could use Borya as a bait. It wasn't nice but it was the best chance he had. Borya wasn't exactly discreet, nor was his gun. If Otabek guessed correctly and stayed in cover long enough for Borya and Redbeard to face in combat he'd know their exact position.

He moved in a wide curve towards the rock formation so that Redbeard would not catch sight of him as he made his way towards the northern end of the field. It was very likely that the enemy scout would head that way, he could not expect Borya south from Tanya's lookout, the entry of the field was too close, it would not make sense for the supporter to lurk in such a small space that would only function as a trap for him. Even in a wider area he was not quite a match for Redbeard but it was the only chance he had. And they had a good chance, still. Otabek did not have very much experience but he was talented and they were two against a single opponent.

He scurried between the trees and after some more meters found a bunch of bushes that provided a nice cover, a little up an acclivity, so he didn't hesitate and took up a concealed position between the thick leaves. From up here he could see the small trail that Borya would probably follow on his way to the position where the previous combat action had been audible. He felt a branch scratching over his right cheek but couldn't even pay attention when he heard fast steps coming from the south - the opponent scout. He held his breath and narrowed his eyes. There was no motion to be seen, neither on the trail nor in the thicket alongside it. The steps slowed down, like Redbeard expected an ambush. His intuition was reliable, Otabek had to admit. It was weird though that Redbeard was not visible between the trees somewhere. Telling from the sounds of his steps he should be in visibility range now.

Otabek realized almost too late. Following his instinct he turned his head a little and suddenly realized that the steps didn't come from the trail down there and also nowhere near it, but from the very path he had used mere seconds ago. The acoustic of the forest had betrayed him and he could only hope that it would work the other way around as well, so with aching muscles he debouched from his hideout and still cowering as close to the ground as possible faced a very surprised Redbeard.

They fired their guns almost at the same time. Otabek's HK hit Redbeard right in the middle of the chest, Redbeard still had his AK47 replica out and hit his shoulders with three projectiles.

"Hit!", Otabek called out frowning and Redbeard grinned.

"Yeah, hit!" He lowered the gun and held out his hand to help Otabek up. "Your team wins."

Otabek took the hand and got up. "Nice match."

"Definitely", Redbeard agreed and hung his AK around his shoulder with the strap attached to it. "Actually I wanted to hide here and wait for you to run northwards to meet with the minigun guy, but seems you were faster. Good instincts you have there."

"Still got me hit", he replied with a shrug.

"You're taking things too serious. I know you're still new but it's just a game, don't let it bother you."

The truth was that it bothered him a lot. Sure, they had won the match but it had been way too close. He had missed a chance to eliminate the most threatening player of the opponent team right at the beginning of the match and the whole team had payed for his inefficiency. Instincts or not, he needed to make the most of every situation. The other players were here for fun - Otabek was not.

He thought about it on his way back to the hotel and under the shower and even when he got dressed for Anka's birthday party. When he shaved he noticed the thin red line on his cheek where the branch had scratched him and it was like a reminder that he by all means needed to improve.

He had bought a massive bouquet for Anka that was not too easy to carry on the Ducati even with the transparent wrapping foil, but he managed by driving more carefully than what was usual for him. Boris had sent him the address earlier and Otabek had used his phone for navigation to reach the small brick row house about half an hour from his hotel. It was getting dark already when he rang the bell, not before checking his hairstyle that had survived the ride with the helmet more or less unharmed. From inside there were loud voices audible, laughter and chatter, and for a second Otabek wondered if you could hear the doorbell over all the noise but only moments later he heard footsteps approach and then the door was ripped open forcefully.

Anka was a small blonde chubby woman with rosy cheeks and a smile bright like the sun itself. "Erasyl, dear!", she exclaimed like she had known him all her life and Otabek found himself in an almost brutal embrace, kisses pressed to his both cheeks alternating, left, then right, then left again. "It's so nice to have you here, boy, come in, it's nice and warm inside." She dragged him inside with the loving force women seemed to possess from a certain age on.

He tried to smile and not stumble at the same time and held out the flowers to her. "My sincere wishes for your birthday and thank you very much for your kind invitation. I feel very honored to be here."

Anka laughed earsplitting. "Oh, you are such a lovely young man, just like my Boris said!" She took the flowers, a vibrant selection of red gerbera, gladiolus and vicia as well as small violet fresia. The florist had said that those were very popular in bright colors but didn't hold any hidden meaning like carnations or hydrangea. The joy in Anka's laughter seemed to prove him right. "Look at that, how polite and honorable you are, gifting an old lady with a bouquet that's just right for a princess. You are a dear young man, just like my Boris said! Come, hang your jacket there", she gestured to the hall stand that looked like it was about to collapse under the countless jackets and coats already there, "and let me introduce you to everyone. I bet there's a spare chair somewhere, don't be shy, dear!"

The so-called introduction took place at the door to the living room where the cheerful voices came from and was more like she threw Otabek into a den crowded with hungry tigers, that being some long tables aligned to each other. "Everyone, look who's here!", Anka exclaimed and at least a quarter of the dozens of people actually paid attention to her. "This is Erasyl, the good soul", then addressing Otabek again: "There's space over there, between uncle Vitya and lil' Zhenya, the boy can take company more his age, won't you, Zhenya?", the last part yelled over the voices again. Said boy, a pale, black haired little thing of what Otabek guessed was around 12 years old, nodded wordlessly, staring at the far edge of the table. Uncle Vitya already had turned to the food on his table again, or more the glass of vodka next to it.

With a pat on Otabek's shoulder Anka sent him away when a swarm of little girls appeared seemingly out of nowhere, making him stop in his way. Otabek counted five, all around the same age, 5 or 6, one ginger, one brunet and the other three of them looking exactly alike with their long black hair and only distinguishable by the color of their red, green and blue hair bows.

"Oh, what pwetty flaaaawers!", the blue one chirped and the red one and the brunet craned their tiny necks to have a closer look at the bouquet which Anka gladly provided by bending down and presenting the spray of flowers.

"Sooo prettyyy!", the brunet sang and the ginger girl looked to Otabek.

"Did you bring those?", she asked with a wide smile and he nodded.

"I've never seen you", the green one, seemingly the calmest of the gang, asked with wide eyes. "Are you the prince Boris told us about?"

"Cilka!", the red one interrupted her. "He's not a real prince!" She looked to Otabek, too. "Are you?"

"No, I am not", he replied with an apologetic smile.

"See?", the red one said to Cilka, the green one. "Like I told you!"

"He doesn't look like one", the ginger girl stated with furrowed eyebrows, but the red one, likely the chief of the gang, elbowed her.

"Like you have ever seen a real prince, Anya!"

"He looks like one to me", Cilka murmured dreamily, making her sassy sister and Anya roll her eyes simultaneously.

"So pwetty flawers!", the blue one could be heard. She hadn't paid attention to Otabek at all.

Boris saved Otabek from the little power play with an "Erasyl, come here! Drink with us!" and the girls froliced away, Anka leaving for the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase.

During the next few hours Otabek sat between the very drunk uncle Vitya who really didn't care for much more than that his vodka was refilled frequently and the very silent Zhenya who was either ill or more quiet than any child Otabek had ever met (that included himself as a child and he had been very, very quiet indeed). Iosif and Egor who turned out to be brothers were there as well, both in a cheerful mood and telling little anecdotes from their childhood that made the whole audience laugh loudly. Next to Zhenya sat Maksim, who was not only the boy's parent, but also the father of the noisy triplets, Dianka with the red bow, Marisya with the blue bow and the speech impediment that made her pronounce some words in a very infantile way and Cilka, who stopped by Otabek's chair regularly to ask him things about his prince status or to just stare at him.

"The girl has exquisite taste in men", Boris guffawed from across the table when she touched the short hair of his undercut very gently and then scampered away laughing high like a chime and a few of the other people (whose names and relationship to Anka and Boris Otabek had forgotten already because of the sheer amount of names and drunk smiles) laughed about it loudly, making Zhenya next to him grimace. He seemed to be not only quiet but also quite protective of his little sisters.

"I'd rather have you wait 20 more years", Maksim said with a wink and Otabek nodded.

The later it got, the thicker the smoke of the cigarettes in the crowded sitting room became. Uncle Vitya fell asleep on the table and Zhenya sat stiff like a stick on the other side.

"Here", Cilka, who had appeared in the gap between the uncle's chair and Otabek's, said. She held out a small bowl with melons smiling sweetly. "Auntie made those", she explained showing two missing deciduous teeth. "They are my favourite food in the world!"

"Back off, Cilka!", Zhenya hissed from the left. "You're annoying him!"

"I'm not!", she gave back with a cute pout.

"You're just such a pain, you know that?"

"I'm not!" She aggressively held out the few pieces of melon to Otabek who felt a little helpless between the siblings. "He who says it is it! You're just jealous that I'll never share my favourite food with you, meanie!"

"I don't even like your stupid stuff", Zhenya growled.

"Ha!", Cilka laughed, "I'd never give you some anyway, ha!"

Otabek took the bowl from her when she stomped her foot triumphantly.

"And I don't want them anyway!", Zhenya exclaimed, then stood up, the chair scratching over the wooden floor noisily. "Zhenya", Maksim said conciliating, but the boy didn't even pay attention. Instead the pushed the chair away and walked over to the second door in the room that led to the hallway. It wasn't the angry storming away that Otabek had expected though, but an insecure, careful walk, his left hand touching the wall until he was out.

"Mean, stupid Zhenya!", Cilka said pouting. "I'll never share anything with him again, blind stupid bat!" She looked to Otabek with shimmering eyes.

"Thank you for the melons", he said with a low voice and it made her smile instantly. He watched her dancing away with bouncing green bow and tried the melons. They were really good.

"Is he okay?", he then asked Maksim, gesturing towards Zhenya's now empty chair with his chin and the man shrugged.

"He's going through a difficult phase", Maksim said and took a sip of his vodka. "He'll calm himself I guess."

Otabek nodded and politely refused Anka's dozenth attempt of conning him into a glass of vodka.

"So, the boss isn't coming?", Aljosha asked over the table and Boris shrugged one shoulder.

"He's just too busy I guess", he said and Anka added: "They all are, aren't they. Svetlana called this morning and had the children sing Gena's birthday song, it was lovely! And Katyusha sent me confectionary with the delivery service, the sweet boy, isn't he an angel! I would have loved to have him here, he's so beautiful and splendour, a sight really. "

Otabek almost choked on the piece of melon he was just eating.

"You alright?", uncle Vitya asked in a moment of wakefulness and Otabek nodded, so the old man took a big gulp of vodka and fell asleep right away again.

Boris had said that they all were family. It should not have surprised him that - of course - the head of the clan and his family had been invited to the celebration if even a rookie like Otabek had been. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed by the fact that they didn't have the time to come though or if he was relieved. He would have loved to see Yuri, even if it was in the company of what looked like a big part of the bratva (not that he knew how many people were part of it to begin with). On the other hand it would have put him to the test to pretend that he wasn't madly in love with the vor's toy boy while everyone was watching.

"A business like this doesn't run itself", Aljosha stated. "I'm not surprised they didn't come."

"We all aren't", Anka smiled brightly. "But they all sent their greetings and that's just heartwarming, isn't it?"

The few guests who had listened nodded affirmatively.

Otabek checked his wristwatch, noticing that is was half past 9 already. The girls had sat down on the sofa in the far back a while ago, watching a cartoon, but Otabek noticed that Zhenya was not with them. No one seemed to care about him, but he worried a little. He had seemed so upset earlier when Cilka had brought the melons, and although he had really been mean Otabek couldn't help but pity the pale boy who had looked so hurt for some reason.

No one even asked him where he was going when he got up and left through the door to the hallway where the boy had disappeared.

Despite a lantern on a low cabinet it was close to dark here and he tried to look around for a light switch but was interrupted by angry whispering. It came from the stairs that led to the upper floor and when he circled the stairway he found Zhenya sitting in the middle, staring into the dark. Not sure if the boy had noticed him he thought a moment how he should address him, but it wasn't even necessary.

"I can hear you", Zhenya said, his voice low and bitter.

"Can I come and sit with you a little?", he asked trying to make his voice sound as low and calm as possible. When Zhenya just shrugged he went up the stairs and sat down on the same stair as the boy but keeping a certain distance.

"If you came to tell me that I was unfair to Cilka: I know, and I don't give a shit. She's annoying and I hate when she's like that." He hunched his shoulders, his thin arms wrapped around his bent knees.

"You really were mean", Otabek remarked.

"Not your problem", Zhenya murmured and turned his head away. "She's not your sister, so…" He didn't finish the sentence.

Otabek sat for a moment in silence, watching the boy in the almost darkness of the hallway. He reminded him so much of himself it was scary. Just that Otabek had never dared to so openly show his discontent with anything. "I don't have siblings", he explained after a while. "I always thought that it would be nice to have someone to be with. But I was all by myself most of the time. There was a lot of pressure as I'm naturally the only son of the family. I guess it must be like that for you too, in a way."

Zhenya's voice was bitter beyond his age when he answered: "You have no idea how it is for me."

Otabek swallowed hard. "You are right. I don't. But you could tell me-"

"The fuck I will!", Zhenya hissed. "If they sent you to give me that goddamn Opening up will help you-talk, then go fuck yourself, you have no idea, no one has and no one ever will. I'm alone with this and I always will be and I'm fucking fine!"

The silence was heavy and the dark just as much. It took a moment before Otabek realized what was weird about what the boy had said. "What do you mean, you are alone with this?"

"Come on", Zhenya sighed. "Don't even try, it doesn't work. You probably think you are acting super smart pretending, but believe me, many have tried, I don't fall for that shit."

With a frown Otabek leaned against the banister. "I'm not pretending", he said slowly. "Why would I?" Zhenya just shrugged, so he went on: "I don't know what you think I'm trying to do, but you can believe me that I have no hidden intention. I was just worried because you seemed so upset earlier and so… hurt. I asked your father about it but he said it's nothing to worry about. The thing is - I do think someone should worry. I think you deserve that someone worries. And maybe today that someone is me."

Zhenya let his forehead sink on his knees. "You are a weirdo", he whispered after a moment. "No wonder Cilka admires you. No wonder everyone calls you a fucking fairytale hero. You really act like one."

"I didn't know they call me that", he chuckled and kept looking at Zhenya and the longer he did and the longer the boy kept silent the more it felt like looking into a mirror.

"You really don't know, do you", Zhenya murmured after another moment, then sat up and turned his head vaguely in Otabek's direction. "You must be kidding me", he said, then sighed and at last added: "I'm blind. Isn't that obvious."

Frowning Otabek looked at the boy's figure, barely illuminated by the lantern down there. It explained the way he had left earlier. It also explained why he had been so irritated by the loud voices down at the table. "I am sorry", he said lowly. "I didn't notice."

Zhenya huffed. "It's okay. I guess you are the only person who ever treated me like a normal kid and not like a misfit." He laughed lowly and it sounded refreshing. "Maybe I shouldn't have told you."

"I can still treat you like a normal kid", Otabek interjected.

"Not very likely. They all just reduce me on the disability. Why would you be different?"

"Because there's more to you than just the fact that you're blind. You are smart", Otabek replied, "and witty. And your smile is nice."

"You don't even see my smile", Zhenya objected. "The lights are off."

"How do you know?"

At that Zhenya gave him a full smirk. "The lightbulbs here hum. Now they don't. It's just that stupid lantern on the cabinet that will sooner or later burn the house down and that can hardly be bright enough for you to see me."

"It is."

Zhenya nodded slowly, still smiling, but it died on his lips when he spoke. "I can never be like you. I can never do things. I am trapped and everything is noisy and dark and there's no hope for me. Things scare me. Lame things, like going outside. Or eating things. Or reaching out, not knowing if what I touch will hurt me. I can never have a normal job, like my sisters do, or like my father does, or like you do. I can not write down a shopping list. I mean I could, but it won't help me. I can not watch a sunset. Or ride a bike. Or throw a stone at someone. Or fall in love at first sight. My life is just half a life, at best. It sucks. And I'm jealous. Because Marisya says that the flowers you brought for aunt Anka are pretty and I can tell that the scent is nice, but… I don't know what violet is. Or pastel. Or bright. Or glitter. It just sucks. I want to be like everyone else. I feel like I don't belong here. You probably don't know how that feels-"

"I do", Otabek interrupted him, his voice calm and low and serious. "I do know how that feels. And I know that it hurts."

They were silent again. And then after some moments Zhenya chuckled and said: "Yeah, you sound like you do."