Blood dripped from the sky into his parted mouth. Dark storm clouds rolled across the firmament heavy with rain they would soon release on the dirty, numb world beneath them. Somewhere among the ruins, cradled in dust, he laid with his eyes opened wide, his lips taking in every drop of red that met them. Days and centuries seemed to rush his empty gaze by as he remained motionless on the ground. He drank the blood that continuously stroked his tongue and filled his mouth; it ran down his parched throat like velvet would flow. Warm darkness embraced him, swallowed his aching body. Like that he drifted through the cozy blackness; quickly he was overcome by the indifference it held. Just when he was finally ready to slip deeper into the abyss he was wavering above a crude voice ripped him away from it.

"Romano!"

It echoed through his dark, numb world, tore the clouds apart for glaring light to intrude and to burn his eyes. He tried to shrink away from the noise that destroyed the calming darkness around him but he couldn't budge. What an annoying voice that was. Still it felt somewhat familiar and touched a soft spot within him. He figured he didn't really mind it, despite the clamor it caused. Again it rang through the clouds and reached his ears, though he had believed them tightly closed and deaf. But since this voice was all he could hear, maybe it only existed inside his head? That was his current location, after all. Somewhere right behind the walls of his mind pain was building up, growing and multiplying. He would be a fool to face it if he was able to hide in his thoughts for a little longer, with their storm clouds, dusty ground and annoying voice.

"Romano, you have to wake up!"

He frowned, or at least he felt as though he should do it. He couldn't reach his body from where he was laying. He didn't want to wake up.

"Romano!" The voice now echoed through his head as if it was shouting right into his ear. Maybe it was. The immense volume nearly made him jump out of his safe mind and into the real world waiting for him with all the pain and chaos. Hot hands suddenly wrapped around his upper arms, burning his cold numb skin as they shook him. The walls of his thoughts tumbled without any remarkable resistance and then his eyes really opened. The sky wasn't covered with gray thick layers of gaseous water as it had been in his imagination. In fact it was of a clear dark blue, illuminated by the city's lights and the thousands of stars spangling the firmament. That was the first thing he noticed. Then the rest of his thoughts caught up with him, as well as his most recent memories.

"Héderváry!" He yelled out and shot up into a sitting position. As he did so fire exploded in the back of his head and wandered down his spine. That was what he had been hiding from. The shout quickly morphed to a helpless whine and he bent forward, clutching the sides of his head, trying to fight the enormous headache from the outside. Unfortunately, that only worsened the pain. The same hands as before now pushed against his chest, accompanied by a soft voice, surprisingly it was the one he had heard before, that whispered to him: "Don't move. You probably have a concussion…" The Spanish accent dancing among the words finally got through to the Italian and he was able to put a face to the voice. Antonio had called him back. The first thing he felt was relief. He wasn't dead!

The next second he was wild with rage. She wasn't dead!

He blindly groped for his gun, assuming it at least somewhere near him. The Spaniard only interfered when he tried to stand up.

"No, no, no, no, no" He murmured, holding him in place gently. "Listen to me. You are badly injured."

Judging from the aching in his skull and back he was right. Now he remembered. Karpusi had stormed up to Adnan without any defense- that idiot –and when Hedérváry had been distracted he had stroke. The next memories were nothing but blurred images of the city and dark alleys, dashing through small lanes, turning corners, sliding over the smooth pavement. Again and again shots were fired; the mere remembering of the noise was enough to send his temples into throbbing again. He had caught up with her, he had wondered how she was able to see with the dark mane of her hair waving around her head like that. Then he had run out of ammo and the last thing he knew was that a heavy boot had come right onto his face. It sickened him that he was alive due to her mercy.

"How" Romano began through clenched teeth, "were you able to tell I needed help?"

That elicited a halfhearted chuckle from the other man and the Italian immediately glared daggers at him. Antonio scooted closer, his proximity began to calm Romano down and that was something this one didn't want. The Spanish man looked him in the eye, totally sincere, "Romano, my dear Lovino, I knew you were in trouble before you did."

That wasn't much of an explanation. "Stop with the cryptic crap, you jerk." He barked in return but leaned against him at the same time. He was so tired. Not a second later Antonio had his arms wrapped around the smaller man and pressed his lips to the other's blushing cheek. "I followed the two of you here. I couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt because of your lack of common sense."

"Ah…"

"Héderváry was about to kill you" The Spaniard's voice dropped a whole octave, it sounded like the growl of a hunting jungle cat, heavily implying that he was the one who had prevented her from actually doing so. So she hadn't spared his life. The Italian was somehow relieved to hear that. He didn't owe that bitch anything. Of course not!

"Let me stand up." He commanded weakly, knowing that he wouldn't be able to do it on his own without another stabbing headache attack. Now he also felt nauseous. Just perfect.

Antonio held his wrists in a tight grip and pulled him to his feet, standing so close that should Romano lose his balance he would land in his arms. After making sure he was standing safely on his feet the Spanish man lead him out of the alley he had been laying in and onto the main street. Only few cars passed them by as they walked back to their temporary hideout. Romano limped a little, it seemed his ankle was sprained, and held his head the whole time, partly trying to cover the hole in his skull but also to emphasize that he was suffering a great deal right now. They didn't exchange any more words until the door of their private rooms was closed behind them.

"Where's Karpusi?" Romano growled when Antonio started to clean the cuts on his face and arms. The rubbing alcohol stung but he had experienced worse. His question sent a flicker of worry across the Spaniard's smooth face.

"I don't know." He admitted, shamefully casting his eyes down as if it was his fault that bastard had taken off to someplace without telling a single soul about it. "He doesn't answer his phone and no one of my contacts has seen him either. I fear something might have happened to him."

"You're such a worrywart. It's Heracles we're talking 'bout. If there is anybody who has nine lives it's that Greek." The Italian snorted to take the praise from his words.

"He wasn't thinking clearly last night." Antonio simply replied while he examined his partner's skull. "You're bleeding. I'll get the bandages." He rushed out of the room leaving Romano to his thoughts. Maybe the Grecian was dead. That was, to be honest, the most logical answer to his disappearance.

Adnan had killed him. It was as easy as that. Heracles had been acting pretty reckless anyway. That idiot, what had he been expecting to happen? Adnan fall to his knees begging for mercy the second he laid eyes on his former 'ward'? Ridiculous.

He briefly wondered what the Turk had put him through to elicit such a thoughtless behavior of the usually so calm and calculating man. Right before Karpusi had charged at the other man he had glanced over his shoulder back at Romano and he would be damned if there hadn't been utter wildness in those green orbs. The Italian still felt nervous just thinking about it. The Greek was not a merciful man, neither was he very forgiving. So it was Adnan's fault Karpusi had this attitude?

Suddenly a memory struck him, one of the first he had of the Greek. Antonio had brought him to Heracles, Romano remembered well how scared he had been of that dark man with the cold piercing stare, so he could decide whether he was fit for the kind of jobs they expected him to do. They had met in a dusty little restaurant, with not so much as three tables in the narrow dim-lit room. The windows had been tightly shut and barricaded with wooden boards. Heracles had advised them to not order anything to drink. While the older men had talked about things the Italian couldn't make anything of back then he had let his eyes wander. Next to the empty bar had been the bathroom and its door had been unlocked revealing the sight of what had been inside. Two women had been hanging from the ceiling with their throats slit open, blood dripping to floor and forming a giant dark red puddle on the tiles. Romano hadn't been able to look away for a second. The lifeless eyes of the two blondes had burnt themselves into his mind. He wasn't a gene specialist but judging from their hair color and height they had been from East Europe; Ukraine maybe, Belarus or Russia even. He must have been very pale because the Greek had followed his gaze and then casually said: "Don't worry. They won't be staying for dinner." Antonio had chuckled at that remark.

The Spaniard came back that moment, a bundle of bandages in his hands and smiled reassuringly as he started to nurse his beloved one's head wound.

"He's not back yet?" Elizaveta had to make sure she hadn't misunderstood. The taciturn man on the other side of the desk just shook his head. The Hungarian straightened up. Hopefully Sadiq hadn't lost to Karpusi. That Greek was the devil himself. Since last night she was utterly sure of that. The way he had walked and glared and smiled was all the proof she needed. The memory was enough to send shivers down her spine. Then she had been a little distracted by the attack of the Italian she had spared last time. Now she regretted not having killed him when she had had the chance. She would have corrected that mistake if it hadn't been for that Spaniard. Never before had she seen an axe appear out of thin air, and it hadn't been a small one. How was that even possible?

Elizaveta supposed that all of that man's victims had the same thought just before they met their end. So she was lucky that he just had come to protect the Italian and not to kill her in the first place. She tended to intimidate people since she was known for not being the most patient person but in fact she was very careful, if not hesitant. It happened from time to time, though, that her temper got in the way of her work. She was good at what she was doing, no doubt. Still there weren't many who would hire her because of her young age. She was just a beginner but even the biggest idiot could see her potential. She just needed more experience. Heracles and his Spanish henchman seemed to be still a size too big for her but that would change soon.

"Have you tried locating his mobile?" She interrupted her own thoughts. There were bigger problems at hand. Sadiq hadn't shown up since they had got separated last night. But where should he be?

"I found his mobile phone." Gupta admitted in an emotionless tone.

"But?" She questioned, already seeing that there must have been complications if the phone's whereabouts were known but not its owner's.

"His phone is currently in the hands of an elderly Turkish man who has quite a lisp, if you ask me, although I'm not familiar with certain dialects of the local tongue." While this description was far more explicit than expected she couldn't help but frown.

"How the hell do you know?" Elizaveta knew the Egyptian for only a few months now but it was obvious that he needed to give his information little by little and in bite-sized chunks.

"That person picked up when I called his number." He stated matter-of-factly, shrugging a slender shoulder.

"So you have no idea where Sadiq could be." She clarified the situation. Gupta, whose eyes had travelled back to the computer screen in front of him, looked up once again and gave a serious nod. A loud pang made both jump and the man rose from his chair. The metal swing doors were suddenly wide open and slammed against the wall with so much force that the frames shook even seconds later.

"Look who's back." Gupta commented dryly. The Hungarian next to him felt as though a weight was lifted off of her shoulders. She sank back into her chair which she hadn't used for a nervous half-hour as an infuriated Turk in filthy clothes stormed up to them. His shirt was torn up and covered in dirt and blood. His face didn't look better. He was limping a little and pressed one hand to his side. Elizaveta frowned as she stared at his hateful grimace. She was glad he was alive, of course. Still she hadn't expected his encounter with Karpusi to cause so much damage.

"How are you?" She asked despite the obvious answer. She assumed, it was more appropriate than pulling him into a relieved hug. The Turk hissed at her, he really did, and shoved her aside with little more than a cold glance. Before anyone could demand an explanation Sadiq slammed his fist on the desk in front of him with enough force to break bones and started yelling at the top of his lungs. It was a rather impressive volume he reached considering the condition he was in.

"That sick fuck!" was all they could understand, though. The rest of the flood of words leaving his mouth was nothing but slurred Turkish insults thick with the dialect of his old hometown, some of which sounded so horrid and hateful that Elizaveta really didn't want to know their meaning. Gupta now approached the raging man in a professional manner, clearly having experience in handling Sadiq in such a stage. He kept on at his boss with a clear level voice that never drowned out the explosion of noise coming steadily from the other. There was no chance of getting any kind of information out of the Turk now so the woman chose to retreat. For days her cell phone weighed heavy in her pocket. Every moment she left it unattended it gained a few pounds. Roderich was always worried about her and she hadn't called him for a whole week now. The guilt sat persistently on her shoulders. She should stop spending so much time thinking about Sadiq and better work on keeping her very young marriage intact. She should stop getting involved in things that were none of her business. She should do a lot of things. Her feet carried her down the narrow hallway searching for a quiet spot. Even now the Turk's voice roared down the corridors. Gupta could deal with Sadiq, he didn't need her help. She really wondered what had sent her friend into such a tantrum, though; and what had caused those injuries. The answer was probably gloating somewhere in the guts of this city, planning the final blow against Sadiq. That Greek devil!

Angrily she pushed those thoughts away. It was really none of her business. Her hand found its way to the small mobile phone in her pocket and pressed the key with the white one printed on it. Then she held the small appliance to her ear.

"Hallo?"

"Roderich, it's me."

Anger shook his frame and even when Gupta succeeded in pushing him into a sitting position he didn't stop trembling. At least he had screamed his throat sore enough to keep quiet by now, his ears hurt.

"Now" The Egyptian man said as he closed the door to Sadiq's private quarters. The Turk was waiting on the bed, resting his chin in the grazed palm of his hand and grinded his teeth violently. Both, pain and fury were responsible for his tense state. "Tell me what happened." Gupta demanded emotionlessly. It was impossible to tell whether he was worried, curious or merely polite enough to fake interest in his surroundings. The dark man inhaled but before he could utter one syllable his assistant held up one slender finger to stop him. "Tell me without any curses, swear words or screaming. I wouldn't want the air to get polluted."

Too exhausted to contradict or respectively throw another fit Sadiq just waved the comment aside with a tired motion of his hand.

"I was about to break his neck but then the damn police arrived. So I decided to spare his decrepit little life." He paused to massage his bruised shoulder. "I didn't know he'd use such petty tricks. Fucking cunt…"

"Sadiq." Gupta interrupted him.

"Whatever, sorry 'n stuff."

"What kind of tricks are you talking about?" The smaller man inquired monotonously as he took the few steps to the near bathroom to get the first aid kit. The Turk's guttural voice rang loudly through the walls, "I'm talking about a trap, of course. Effin' bastard had a guy tracking me down."

Figuring he lost the battle against his superior's foul mouth Gupta returned with bandages in one hand and the red plastic case in the other. "How did you escape?" He kept on asking while he swiftly stripped the Turk off his shirt (with little more than a halfhearted snort from this one) to reveal a field of blooming bruises decorating his torso. As he felt the contusions Sadiq winced more than once. So he had been acting the whole time. His body wasn't just quivering with rage, it was sheer exhaustion and pain that pushed him towards his limit.

"I was lucky, that's how. I spent the day at my place and when I wanted to go here that fucker attacked me! Out of the fuckin' blue!" He added a low hiss when Gupta accidentally brushed against a black bruise on his ribs.

"Seems broken." He merely commented before continuing his interrogation. "What happened then?"

"Shit happened. 'Course I put up a good fight but I lost my pistol. He nearly killed me but then I made it to the main street and he was gone." Sadiq reported grudgingly, clearly upset about this display of weakness on his side. The Egyptian raised his amber eyes from the cut on the Turk's forearm he was tending to at the moment and clicked his tongue. He said: "If that man tried to kill you he wasn't sent by Heracles." At his boss' irritated look he explained, "Heracles wants to see you dead, but he wants to do it himself. He would never send someone to kill you."

That silenced the taller man for a few minutes which Gupta used to nurse the remaining wounds that practically covered his entire body. It seemed as though his superior had got smashed into a wall or run over by a car or something of that sort. While he wrapped Sadiq's torso in white bandages that stood bright against his bruised dark skin he asked: "What did he look like?"

That apparently pulled him out of his thoughts and the grim expression that started to form on his face disappeared to be replaced with one of indifference. "He went all Kung Fu on me. I guess he's Chinese."

"Ah."

"Why is that important, eh?"

"I thought maybe I know him." Gupta replied quietly, trying to reduce his part of the conversation. He disliked talking, it revealed way too much of a person. That was why Gupta had no problem seeing through Sadiq as if he was made of glass. The Turk was like a little child; loud, wild and reckless. Half of his entire life could be read in just the way he greeted people in the morning. Gupta knew about his childhood, how he slipped into the criminal world and what Heracles had done to him. Sadiq had grown up in Istanbul as the son of a successful merchant but his relationship with his father had been the worst. He had felt rebellious and misunderstood and had run away from his parents' house when he had been around 14. To earn money he had started as a teenage drug dealer and thus had got involved in criminal matters. It was indeed an achievement that he had managed to work his way to the top all by himself. Things had gone flawlessly for the Turk; that was until he'd met the young homeless Greek during a trip to Thessaloniki. He clearly had been, and probably still was, attracted to the quiet boy he had brought back from Greece. He had gone out of his way to please Heracles. The teenager had been very gentle and soft-spoken, never too demanding but never quite satisfied either. No matter what the Turk had done to impress him it just hadn't been enough, always almost. Heracles had been a single mystery, he hadn't said where he was from or what had happened to him, never had he spoken of anything from his past. It was obvious that Sadiq couldn't have helped it but be intrigued. He was a very competitive nature and solving his riddle, winning the Greek's affection had been an irresistible challenge. So he had introduced his ward to the world he lived in. It had been, indeed, a manipulating game he had played; showing the darkest sides, the atrocities and sins of men to innocent eyes and then stepping forth as a protector. It had worked well, to say the least. He had been close to win Heracles. Gupta had seen the thoughtful expression on the younger male's face when watching Sadiq. He had seen the good-natured roll of his eyes when the Turk had made a dumb remark. Heracles had followed him everywhere and the Turk had taken him everywhere. It had been only a matter of time until Sadiq would have made him his first assistant. And it had only been a matter of time until Heracles would have given in to the Turk. The Greek had been confused by the signals his warden had kept sending at him but if he had given it a little more time... Well, maybe nothing good would have come from it anyway. Still, Sadiq was such an impatient man. One mistake, and it had been a huge one in the African's eyes, had destroyed everything he had worked for. So it all had gone to waste and the Turk had grown bitter over the years, maybe it had been just a matter of days. Surely he was angry at himself, disappointed, maybe, but he was also hurt. Still.

Gupta observed quietly, had done that for years, and he knew that the proud, cheery Turk was hurting. It was written clearly all over his face when someone mentioned Heracles Karpusi. Not once those things had been topic of any of their discussions and that hadn't been necessary in the slightest.

"You aren't listening to me, are ya?"

"No." The Egyptian answered truthfully, startled when he got shaken from his thoughts and pulled back into the present. Sadiq groaned and repeated: "I said he didn't belong to any of our partners or enemies. Plus: I don't fucking give a damn; it was probably some new assassin who tried his luck. Those guys are shooting right out of the ground lately."

"So you really have no idea who could have attacked you?"

"Geez, I told you so, didn't I? Why so vocal today, eh? Don't tell me you were worried." Sadiq barked a hoarse condescending laugh and went straight to groaning painfully while he pressed his hand against his ribs. Gupta placed a plastered a barely noticeable smile on his lips and replied: "I was worried."

That elicited a rather amusing disbelieving look from the injured Turk. Paying no heed to that the Arab continued: "Why didn't you go straight to the headquarters after your encounter with Heracles?"

"I was too tired to deal with anymore crap." He had been too upset by seeing Heracles again to be around people.

"I see. Why didn't you call for help when this stranger attacked you?"

"As if I needed help!" He had thrown his phone away, scared that Heracles might call him again.

Sadiq was way too easy to read. Rising to his feet in one fluent motion Gupta took the kit and turned for the door. "Take a rest." He advised his superior quietly and reached for the door knob. The other man gave a low grunt of consent before the Egyptian left the room. When he stood in the hallway he reached into his pocket and drew a small cell phone from it. It was time for a report and it was time for him to take charge of this mess.

He knew he wasn't allowed to roam about at night. He had already forgotten why he was up at such an hour in the first place. His naked feet padded over the cold tiles of the wide corridor and the sounds echoed from the high gray walls. His surroundings were weirdly vague to his eyes, they seemed to shift shapes and blur the second he wasn't focusing on them. He found nothing too unordinary in that, though, and walked on. He was thirsty, he discovered. Now that he had a reason and a goal his pace quickened. He didn't like the mansion at night. Everything was still so unknown and strange. His thoughts got interrupted by a slim ray of line falling onto the dark floor from a black door he had never noticed before. Drawn in by an invisible force he opened the door a little, peeking inside. The room was brightly illuminated by a tasteful chandelier and a small fireplace where little flames crackled happily as they devoured the dead dry wood. One wall seemed to consist of nothing but bookshelves. He knew that room. It belonged to his personal guardian angel. He knew that such thoughts were sappy and girlish but he couldn't help but look up to the man who had saved his life. Now the same stepped into sight; followed by a lifeless body that simply fell to the floor like a bag of potatoes. A red fluid crept across the expensive wooden floor towards where he was standing. He felt the need to run. He would have given in to that sudden urge if it hadn't been for the tall man next to the motionless lump of flesh. His large leather-gloved hand reached up to his face and removed the white mask that obscured his features. Sadiq's eyes shifted to the door. He had seen him.

"Heracles, good evening." He greeted him politely, but with a certain smug edge in his voice, as if he had expected him to see this. Taking this as an invitation to enter the room the Greek slowly walked up to him. He put on an emotionless expression and prayed to God that he would be able to keep it up. "Is he… dead?" Heracles asked stupidly. Mesmerized, he stared into the empty eyes of the stranger. His hair had been white or blond once but the blood that now stuck to his strands soiled their color. The Turk next to him nodded and then added in a soft, almost worried tone: "I had to do it. You were in danger." The fact that Sadiq tried to justify his doing somehow calmed the teenager but it did not ease the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "You murdered him." He whispered. The fact seemed so much realer now that he had spoken those words.

"Yes. I wish there had been another way." The Turk answered solemnly and held out a hand to his younger companion. He moved slowly and deliberately as if Heracles was a stray cat that would run for it if he wasn't careful. He wouldn't run. The Greek silently obeyed the unspoken command or rather plea to come closer. His eyes never left the body on the ground. Then he was within the taller male's reach and that one wrapped his hands around his shoulders to turn him away from the corpse protectively. "Don't look at it."

It.

Sadiq had called a human being 'it'. For a reason Heracles didn't wish to know tears welled up in his eyes and he desperately tried to blink them away. The Turk saw them anyway. A shocked expression flickered across his face but it was too perfect, too concerned and startled. Something told Heracles that it was staged. Everything about the Turk suddenly seemed false and dangerous, but he wouldn't run from him. Sadiq would never hurt him. That was what the Greek repeatedly told himself.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, kid. I really didn't want you to see that side of me."

"Who is –was that?" He asked in a monotonous voice that even surprised him. Sadiq had murdered a person and seemingly found no problem with that at all.

"You of all people should know that there are evil men out there, shouldn't you? Our little Icelandic visitor was one of those." The Turk replied and started to steer the boy away from the dead man on the floor. He knew he would regret it later but for now Heracles was satisfied with that explanation. Evil-doers had to be punished. That made sense. Didn't Sadiq say that he had been in danger? So he had saved him once again. He really was his guardian angel. As if he had read his thoughts the Turk now whispered to him, quietly, softly as if the corpse could still be spying on them: "You know I will always protect you, right? I'll let nothing and no one hurt you, Heracles. You can trust me. Even if there is no one else in this world you can trust, I'll always be there."

"Yes, I know."

"Wake up."

"What?"

A cold wave of water hit his face and burnt his eyes. Instinctively he gasped for air and tried to jerk away from the icy torture dripping from his face but instantly had to learn that his hands were tied tightly to a pipe above his head. He was sitting on the floor of some decrepit basement from what he could see. A slender, short man now crouched down in front of him. His black long hair was forced into a ponytail and despite his obvious Chinese origin his skin was very fair. His expression or rather the lack of it reminded him of someone but he couldn't put a finger on it; not that it mattered now.

"Where am I? Who are you? Who do you work for?" He barked and struggled against the thick ropes that held him in place and cut deep into his wrists. The answer was short and enraging: "Classified."

"I'll show you classified, you fucker! Untie me!"

"I will have to decline." He answered, unaffected. "You have been sleeping for quite some time. That was helpful. You can rest a little now, too. Make yourself at home."

Heracles Karpusi stared at the man with disbelieving eyes and he would have laughed at that last comment if the other hadn't sounded so awfully serious. The Asian straightened up fluently and turned to leave. The only exit was a grayish green painted metallic door that did not appear to lead anyplace better than this. When he realized he was really going to be left alone in this cold prison he called out to his capturer, "Wait!" When there was no reaction he grudgingly added: "Please."

That made the other male glance back over his shoulder. So you had to be polite around here?

"Give me at least a goddamn reason." The Greek snarled while his hands tried constantly to escape their ties. He didn't understand. What had happened anyway? He remembered entering a bar after he had ended his unsuccessful search for Adnan. He had ordered a few drinks, nothing unusual. He had flirted with some girls, nothing unusual. He had gotten involved in a fight with some rowdies, nothing too unusual. That was the last memory he had of last night but it was enough to remind him of his demolished face that now pulsed hotly with pain. His lips were cut, his nose hurt like hell and the way his jaw cracked when he imitated chewing motions didn't sound promising either.

"You are here because our boss is interested in you." The Chinaman said, as robotic as any answering machine. That was quite the vague statement but Heracles decided to let it go. If he pushed him too far he might leave without answering any more questions. Wait… Had he said 'our'? The Greek's head shot up, gazing around. Next to the door another man stood motionlessly like a statue. He was definitively taller than the first but wore the exact same expression; a perfect poker face. Heracles wondered if those two were even human, maybe that was some new kind of biological technology; scary thought.

"How long have I been out? Tell me that", he demanded, addressing both of them. His voice echoed hollowly from the naked concrete walls.

"Three days." Was the instead reply and his insides turned cold. He had assumed to be still in Izmir or at least near the city, but this meant he could be practically anywhere in this world. His next question was obvious. "Where am I?" He nearly yelled and secretly cursed the panicking tone in his voice. He had to keep his cool now or he was lost.

The two men exchanged a long gaze, seemingly communicating in complex sentences. Now the silent one by the door raised his voice. He sounded even younger than his Asian companion. "We are in Greece." While this wasn't very specific either it could have been a lot worse. At least he was in his own country.

"Okay, and who is that boss of yours?" He figured as long as they were willing to talk Heracles should do his best to get as much information out of them as possible for it didn't seem likely that they would kill him. His question sent the others into a heavy silence that pressed on his ears.

"He will introduce himself once we brought in your new roommate." The brunette said and gestured his Chinese friend to come. Without any further interruption they left the room and the door slammed shut with a final clicking of a clasp.

What had happened to his life? One second he was trying to rip that filthy Turk's guts out and the next he was a prisoner of some sick shadowy individual. He thanked God for his easy-going nature that made him believe that he would find a way out of that mess. It was better to stay focused on the present anyway. He couldn't care less about who was responsible for this or what reasons they had. He didn't mind being on his own, that was nothing new. Right now he just hoped they would return soon because he really needed to take a piss. He rubbed his legs against each other, determined to fight his bladder. This could only end well…

Two hours later the taller one, the brunette, returned with a bucket that apparently was meant to replace his bathroom for the next time. At least they hadn't forgotten about him because Heracles now really needed that bucket. Awkwardly he didn't untie his hands for obvious reasons so he kind of had to do the work for him. Both of them flushed bright red and didn't say a word during the procedure. Heracles fought the sick feeling in his stomach and the other one did the same. While he relieved himself the younger male politely turned away.

"So, what's your name?" The Greek asked as casually as possible when the man picked up the bucket and held it away from himself in a disgusted manner. He seemed a lot more at ease without his Chinese friend around. However, he just turned to frown at Heracles at the question.

"Come on" That one joked bitterly, "You were in my pants; I should at least know that much about you."

"Toris."

"Okay, Toris… Am I going to spend the rest… of my life in here? Because I have to say the service is pretty poor." Heracles asked, strengthening the accent in his voice. He had found out that exotic accents worked beautifully on men and women alike. They seemed to have a hypnotic effect on them which was kind of handy in some situations. He couldn't be as convincing as usually with his hands tight above his head and his pants undone, sitting on the dirty floor but he tried his best.

"No." Toris replied, looking at him nervously. "You will move to a more fitting residence soon enough."

The southerner nodded and leaned back, watching the brunette boy leave again.

No matter how you looked at it…

The situation was more than unsatisfying.