A/N Unbetaed. Story word count 4930. Written for the SSSWC 2023. Used lines in bold. Posted while it was still July 2 in Hawaii.

Klink's Brother

Hogan clapped Kinch on his shoulders and turned around to go upstairs. Newkirk and Carter were on their way to meet a contact on the Berlin Express. They wouldn't be back until morning. Hogan planned to get some shut-eye before that.

He hadn't reached the ladder yet, as he heard sounds from the emergency entrance. Abandoning his plan, he hurried back. From the radio room, Kinch also rushed over. Together, they reached the emergency entry, coming to an halt, surprised.

Newkirk was sprawled next to the ladder. The sleeve of his German uniform was torn. Carter held onto the wood of the ladder as if his life depended on it. Both breathed hard.

"What happened?" Hogan asked astonished. "You just went out."

"Germans." Newkirk gasped.

"Yes, I know. You were supposed to give the package to a German."

"No, sir," Carter said while he straightened, his hair falling into his forehead. "The Germans are everywhere."

"We're in Germany. There's bound to be a lot of Germans," Kinch noted dryly.

"You don't understand." Newkirk climbed to his feet. "The woods were crawling with guards. It was like school's out. I'm surprised they found enough space to spread out evenly between the trees." He beat out the dirt from his uniform. His face fell as he discovered the torn sleeve. "We barely managed to get back."

"At first we thought, 'Boy, did we ever make a wrong turn.'" Carter said. "But then we realized that we were right, but Klink lied. He hadn't removed guards but added."

Hogan sighed. "I knew I couldn't trust him to do simple math."

Kinch made a face as he crossed his arms. "That was our last opportunity to get the message to Berlin. London won't hold back bombing the next train."

Nodding, Hogan eyed his men. If Newkirk and Carter couldn't get through, nobody would. But it was a moot point either; they wouldn't reach the Berlin Express in time anymore.

"And now?" Kinch – always pragmatic – asked. "London stressed how important this message was for the underground in Berlin."

Hogan crossed his arms.

"I'm surprised that Berlin even has an underground," Carter said. "I thought they'd killed everybody there by now."

"Which may be possible now," Newkirk muttered.

They were supposed to get the new codes to Berlin, as the old ones were compromised. The underground there needed this warning desperately. Hogan pressed his lips together. "Well," he said. "That settles. Berlin will get his warning."

"That's great, colonel," Carter said, shrugging out of his German uniform, "but how?"

"Klink. He's the one responsible for the fact that we missed our train, and he has a staff car. He's going to drive us."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but how do you want to get Klink to do this?"

Apparently, Newkirk had recovered enough from his run from death to comment on Hogan's plan with his usual charm. Hogan put up his hands and shrugged. "Do I have to do everything on my own? I just solved the who, the rest are small details." Despite his words, Hogan was already thinking. "Why would Klink drive to Berlin?"

"Because he was ordered," Kinch offered. "Or because he was made a general."

Both were good ideas, but difficult to achieve without Burkhalter. And Hogan didn't really want Klink to be a general. "What else?"

"Only idiots go on vacation to Berlin," Newkirk pointed out. "And while our bald eagle isn't the brightest, he prefers the colder climate."

Hogan curled his lips. Instead of pacing, he went to the radio room. His men followed.

Suddenly, Hogan had it. He snapped his finger.

"And here we go," Newkirk commented. "Off to a new plan."

"Well, it's actually your plan, Newkirk. We'll send Klink on vacation to his family. They're Prussians, and as far as I remember, they live near Berlin."

"Do you really think Klink is going to visit his family?" Kinch asked.

"Not on his own." Hogan was already planning the details in his head. "When's Burkhalter due?"

"In two days," LeBeau replied. "Why?"

"Because we may need him," Hogan said. "Newkirk?" He approached the English corporal and laid his hand on his shoulder, leaning in.

"Governor," Newkirk said, his voice and expression a mix of even parts dread and anticipation.

"I need you to write Klink a letter."

Newkirk relaxed, settled his weight on his heels, and took off the steel helmet from his German uniform. "Of course, sir. Who writes?"

Hogan grinned. "His great aunt Erna and here's what it says..."

:~:~:~:

Hogan waited ten minutes after Newkirk had added their letter to Klink's post. To be generous, he added another minute that he used to pace in front of the Kommandantur.

Finally, it was time. With brisk steps, he barged into Klink's office. "Herr Kommandant," he said, enjoying the startled reaction from Klink as he dropped the letter as if it burned his hands. "I have to -"

"Not now, Hogan," Klink said. "I have work to do." He grabbed the nearest paper and tried to appear busy.

"Exactly; that's why I'm here. You work too much." Hogan closed the door behind him and stopped in front of Klink's desk. Leaning forward, he put on his most worried face. "Just this morning, we could see how exhausted you looked."

"Exhausted?" Klink asked, reeling back. Then he shrugged. "I do work hard."

"Too hard, Herr Kommandant, too hard. You need a break or you're going to burn out like my mother. And she needed six months in Europe to recover," Hogan said. "Six months. This camp can't lose its head for so long." He straightened up, giving Klink some space.

"That won't happen," Klink said, raising from his chair. "Nobody from my family ever got sick. We're all soldiers, inside and out. We Klinks do not get sick." He balled his hands and squared his shoulders to show his military bearing.

Hogan sat down in his favorite wooden chair. "This is how it starts. You're exhausted, but don't allow yourself to rest and then -" He sniveled theatrically, pulled out his handkerchief, wondering if he'd laid it on too thickly but carrying on nonetheless. "And then we're going to lose you. Everything spirals into chaos. And at last the gestapo comes and takes apart our beautiful camp."

Flattery always worked, and as predicted, Klink straightened, smiling. "I didn't know you felt this way."

"Not only me, colonel, but my men, too."

"Well," Klink said as he stepped around his desk, "I haven't taken a vacation in a long time. Only duty and work for me."

"But colonel," Hogan said, "believe me, you work too hard. The first signs are easy to miss. It's just the occasional bad night. But if you get to the second stage of the burnout it proceeds at such a rapid pace, you almost can't stop it."

"The second stage?" Klink returned to his chair and sat down.

"It's called the forgetting stage." Hogan drummed his fingers on his thigh. "You start to forget names and family members that once were extremely important. It's like you never met them."

Klink picked up the letter again, suddenly worried. "You mean, I may have a great-aunt with the name Erna?"

Hogan put his right hand on his chest. "This is how it starts, " he broke off, his hand balled into a fist put in front of his mouth. "Colonel, you need a vacation. This is extremely dangerous. Maybe it's already too late."

"Nonsense!" Klink argued. "I just momentarily forgot Aunt Erna. Of course, I remember her. And as I said, we Klinks do not get sick, nor do we need a vacation."

"Don't tell me that I didn't warn you." Hogan dropped his hand. "Are you sure that you remember her?"

"Of course! Who could forget Aunt Erna?"

Hogan relaxed and crossed his legs. It was time for the second part. "Did I ever tell you that I also have an aunt Erna. We visited her in Berlin as I was a little child. Oh, these are good memories."

"You were in Berlin?"

"Just to meet Aunt Erna. I remember it as if it were yesterday." Hogan used his hands and expression to paint the picture his words were failing to adequately describe. "There were pear and apple trees, and there was a teddy bear and a tree-lined road where we'd driven in a car. And the house—you should've seen the house." He squared his shoulders, playing his part with ease. "But we were talking about your aunt."

Klink picked up the letter. "She wrote me a letter, telling me that she had been in Hammelburg and went by the camp, seeing me in my uniform, running this prison camp with an iron fist."

"Then she must be proud, right?"

Klink tilted his head. "Hmpf. She wrote that as she ran by the camp – why would a little old woman be running through the woods?" He dropped the paper.

"I'm sure Newkirk meant 'walk' or maybe 'strolled' through the woods," Hogan muttered.

"What?"

Putting on his most easy expression, Hogan just went over Klink's objection. "How old is your Aunt Erna? The older you get, the more difficult it becomes to pick the right word. I'm sure she meant sauntered through the woods."

Klink didn't seem convinced, but he picked up the letter again. "And then she said that I apparently finally found out their big secret." He dropped the paper again. He huffed. "Claiming I have a brother." With indignation, he added, "Me – a brother. Can you imagine this?"

Hogan took a moment, curling his lips. "Nobody's perfect."

"Hogan!"

"Isn't this a broad hint that you should take a vacation?"

"I have a prisoner camp -"

A knock at the door interrupted them.

"What is it!"

Schultz opened the door, entered and saluted. "Herr Kommandant, I must report that General Burkhalter has just arrived at the main gate."

"General Burkhalter? Here?" Klink jumped up, grabbed his riding crop and cap and went outside to greet him.

"A little early," Hogan muttered. He'd assumed that he'd had more time to prepare Klink. Through the open doors, he watched Klink greet the general.

"General Burkhalter, what a pleasant surprise!" Klink said, trying to open the door of the staff car.

"Klink, it's no surprise if I come on time," Burkhalter said loud enough to be heard inside.

"Of course not, sir, but your visit is scheduled for tomorrow."

"If I say I am on time, I am on time." Burkhalter waved off Klink's attempts to help him out of the car.

"Of course, Herr General, if you -"

"Shut up, Klink," Burkhalter snapped and went to the Kommandantur. Not stopping, he moved through the antechamber and into Klink's office. Barely glancing at Hogan, he shrugged out of his coat. "My ears are still ringing from my wife. To recover, I will take two days to inspect Stalag XIII."

"That's a good idea," Hogan said, joining the conversation. "Being thoroughly. Maybe Klink can then get some rest."

"Hogan, why does Klink need to rest? He doesn't do anything." Burkhalter went to the desk and sat down.

"Hogan, you're dismissed," Klink said. Hogan raised an eyebrow and went to the door.

"I asked Hogan a question," Burkhalter said.

"Hogan, you're not dismissed," Klink continued without a break.

Turning around, Hogan shrugged. "Well, General Burkhalter, he just learned that he got a brother and can't remember that a week ago his great-aunt Erna came by. I'm sure it's a sign of exhaustion."

"And?" Burkhalter demanded.

"Well, for me, it was a memorable moment. A little old woman went by and waved. Colonel Klink and I stood on the steps of the Kommandantur as he explained to me again why nobody escapes from Stalag XIII."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hogan saw the color draining from Klink's face.

Hook.

"It's all in this letter from his aunt." Hogan pushed the letter towards Burkhalter. "Just look at him – it all seems too much."

Klink started to tremble and gaped at him.

Line.

Burkhalter scanned the lines while Klink still resembled a fish on the land. Hogan just needed to wait until the general got to the passage where Aunt Erna, or better Newkirk, explained to Wilhelm Klink that he stood right next to his brother as she went by.

Hogan saw the moment it clicked. Burkhalter leaned back, his expression unreadable as he glanced at Hogan. "I see."

"Colonel Klink needs a vacation," Hogan repeated as if he didn't know what the letter implied.

"Herr General, that can't be true." Finally, Klink found his voice.

Sinker.

Allowing himself a smirk, Hogan enjoyed the moment. His ticket to Berlin was almost booked. The fact that he was dismissed a moment later just fit his plan.

:~:~:~:

"Is your aunt trustworthy?" Burkhalter still occupied Klink's desk and chair, leaving Klink to pace around the room.

"Of course she is. All of my family is -"

Burkhalter waved him off. "Colonel Hogan with a German father," he said, leaning back and contemplating the situation, "that opens up a lot of new possibilities."

"But Herr General, that can't be -"

"You just said yourself that this woman is telling the truth. So it must be the truth."

Klink slumped down. "Maybe she couldn't see him very well from the distance?" he offered meekly. "I'm sure Colonel Hogan doesn't believe it either."

"Of course not. That would mean he's fighting on the wrong side." Burkhalter heaved himself up. "The question is how to convince him. If we turn somebody like Hogan I'm sure it's going to mean something in Berlin. How could they have missed this? That's their job to find out."

"General, I have no idea." Klink wrung his hand.

:~:~:~:

Kinch pulled the cord out and shared a grin with the rest of team. They had listened until Burkhalter had come up with a plan, sending for Hogan.

"Schultzie is taking his sweet time," Newkirk commented.

"It's a long walk from the commandant to us," LeBeau replied, shrugging. "And his feet have to carry a lot of weight."

"LeBeau?"

"Oui?"

"Lay of the apfelstrudel. As of now, Schultz is on a diet. This is taking too long." Hogan snatched his cap and grabbed the door knob just as Schultz opened the door.

"Colonel Hogan -"

"Yes, yes, the commandant wants to see me. Let's go. I have a date in Berlin."

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz started again as if he hadn't been interrupted, "Colonel Klink wants to see you right away. And he has a visitor. You won't guess who." A bright grin lit up his face.

"Schultzie, Red Cross packages are delayed again, as you know," Newkirk said, leaning against the wall right next to the closed window. "And we already know who's in town."

"Oui, General Burkhalter."

Schultz' face fell. Either because they already knew his secret or because they couldn't offer chocolate for it.

"Schultz? Are you coming? Klink is waiting."

"Colonel Hogan, you're awfully eager to meet him."

"Like I said, I have an important date in Berlin. Do you want to know who -"

"No, don't tell me," Schultz said, closing the door behind him and leaving Kinch, Newkirk and LeBeau behind.

:~:~:~:

"There's no way, General Burkhalter, that I and -" Hogan had no trouble expressing his indignation. He just needed to imagine it and knew how to act.

"But you said yourself that you remember the house." Burkhalter pushed forward a photograph. He pointed with his fat finger at a house in a line of houses that were huge, noble and expensive. Exactly like he'd imagined an aristocratic house.

"Then I must've been mistaken." Hogan had to toe the fine line between agreeing and denying, and Burkhalter was always more difficult to manipulate than Klink. "I only believe it if I see it with my own eyes, taste the apples and pears and smell the flowers."

"Impossible," Klink said, "Hogan, you're a prisoner."

"And you're a German officer," Burkhalter said. "Drive him to Berlin, Klink."

Klink almost lost his monocle. He stared at the general with open shock. "But, but -"

Burkhalter heaved himself up and turned to Hogan. "Maybe after you see with your own eyes what the American bombers do to the place of your origin, you understand why it needs to stop."

"And you want me to stop it?" Hogan remained sitting, crossing his legs in a show of protest.

"But General-"

Klink was ignored by both Burkhalter and Hogan.

"Just some help," Burkhalter said, "so that not everything gets destroyed. Would you want to bomb your father's house?"

"But Herr General," Klink finally found enough of his voice to make himself heard. "I cannot -"

Burkhalter turned his impressive weight and voice toward Klink. "You drive. And that's an order!"

Klink meekly nodded, looking miserable. "Yes, sir."

"Don't worry," Hogan said, beaming, "After it's over, we'll all know each other better."

:~:~:~:

Listening to the retreating steps, Kinch waited until Schultz was gone before he switched the coffee pot on again.

"How did Colonel Hogan know what Klink's childhood home looked like?" Carter asked aloud. "London didn't report anything."

Newkirk sighed, opening his mouth, but Kinch beat him to it.

"Carter, do you remember when we met in college?"

Carter's confused expression changed to irritation. "Kinch, we didn't meet -"

"Of course we did," Kinch went on. "It was near the entrance; you came out, and I went in. Do you really not remember? The steps were – how do you call it?"

"Made of stone?" Carter suggested.

"Exactly, and the door looked exactly like, you know-" Kinch snapped his fingers.

"The door to the police station," Carter dutifully filled in the blank.

"Yeah, they sure did look like them," Kinch said. Then he raised his eyebrow, waiting until Carter's face lit up with understanding.

"Oh, right, the colonel prompted Klink and then just agreed to whatever he said."

"Finally, now, can we listen in?" Newkirk grumbled without heat pointing to LeBeau who held the loudspeaker to his ear.

"You haven't missed much anything yet. Burkhalter just questioned him about his family," LeBeau said as he straightened. "And the colonel just told him our story."

:~:~:~:

Hogan stood in front of a huge house in a row of such houses. Nothing in this street seemed ordinary or small. Even the lampposts were elaborately decorated.

A small street had led them here into an area almost untouched from destruction they had seen along the way. It had been surprisingly easy to talk Klink and Burkhalter into giving him a German uniform. But without it, Hogan doubted they would've come this far.

"So, this is your childhood house?" Hogan asked, standing right next to Klink in front of the gate.

"Do you remember anything?" Klink asked. The nearer they came to Berlin the smaller appeared the eagle.

"Not really," Hogan answered truthfully. "Maybe if I can see your teddy bear."

"I don't have a teddy bear," Klink snarled in a voice that informed Hogan that he shouldn't push Klink any further.

"Well, why don't we go then," he suggested, guessing that Klink really didn't want to go in. "It's obvious - I don't remember this house, so we don't need to rewrite the history of Stalag XIII."

"Back to camp? We won't reach it before the night and -" Klink broke off, but he showed some hope that he could be spared to entered his childhood home.

Hogan shrugged. Nobody wanted to become a target for the bombers, and you couldn't drive in the dark without lights. "We could get a drink. You tell me about your family, and then we request a room." Hogan would sleep in the car if necessary but Klink needed a soft mattress, or he would be insufferable for the near future.

"I could use a drink," Klink said with a last glance to the house.

:~:~:~:

It was time for the big guns. Nothing had worked so far, Schultz for once kept his mouth shut. General Burkhalter was still hiding from his wife and so ran Stalag XIII himself, forcing the remaining members of Papa Bear to put every operation on hold.

But they still wanted to know whether Hogan and Klink had reached Berlin safely. And so barracks 2 decided to hold another poker evening, well midday but Schultz was too tired in the evenings or mornings.

LeBeau, the man in charge of luring Schultz in, had baked apfelstrudel. It wasn't like Colonel Hogan would really object. They needed to keep feeding Schultz if they wanted him to come to them.

Newkirk dealt out the cards. Schultz played like he was supposed to. Carter watched the door. And yet something was different.

"Oh come Schultz," Newkirk said, finally having enough of just playing poker. "We just want to know if the colonel got to Berlin without trouble."

"Oui, we heard that the streets are terrible."

"And thugs in black prowling the streets," Kinch added. "Making traveling really dangerous."

That the biggest danger probably was an Allied air raid, they wisely didn't say.

Schultz sighed. "I do not know." He requested another card, his eager face showing exactly what cards he held.

Newkirk glanced to Kinch and then LeBeau. Without the colonel, it had to be a joint decision. But they all seemed to agreed.

"All right, Schultzie, show us what you got."

The German guard shook with excitement and laid out his straight flush. He started to pull the price towards him, as Carter suddenly spoke up.

"Wait, wait, Schultz, I don't play poker well, but …" He put down a royal flush.

Schultz stared at the cards, his face red from anger.

"You're a bad poker player, but a wonderful traitor. So why don't you tell us what we want to know."

Shaking his hand, Schultz pushed himself up. "I know nothing. Nothing."

"All right, I'll get a dog;" LeBeau said, turning towards the door. "Let Heidi search for the colonel. I don't know what General Burkhalter is going to say to all this noise but -"

"Halt!" Schultz called, as if he suddenly remembered who was in camp. "There's no need for that. Colonel Klink and Colonel Hogan are still in Berlin. The big shot called and said that they haven't met yet the right person and that he'll call tomorrow again."

Relieved, Newkirk glanced to Kinch, looking for reassurance that it meant what he thought it did.

"Arrived safely, about to make contact," Kinch explained in a hushed voice. But he wouldn't have to bothered. Schultz was already enjoying LeBeau's consolation prize, ignoring them.

:~:~:~:

The cafe was dark and uninviting, but that could also be said about the whole city. Nothing seemed easy or bright in Berlin. Hogan had no idea how anybody could live in this oppression. Wherever you looked, somebody with a Swastika on his arm and his hands on a machine pistol or at least a handgun stared back at you.

Hogan steered Klink into the cafe, where they were supposed to meet the underground.

"What are we doing here?"

"We're celebrating."

"Hogan, we don't have time to celebrate," Klink said. "There's no reason to celebrate. We wasted endless hours here, and you're not even—" he broke off. "Thankfully," he added in a whisper.

"We absolutely need to celebrate. Just imagine if actually met up with your family and confronted them with these unfounded accusations."

Klink paled and swallowed hard. Hogan ordered two beers and two stronger drinks while Klink slunk down on a wodden stool.

"To family." Hogan raised his glass but Klink just gulped down his drink.

Hogan went to the bar, pretending to get some more drinks. Before he could say anything, the barkeeper tilted his head slightly, indicating a door to his left. Without missing a step, Hogan changed direction and went to the door as if it had always been his destination.

The door led to a storage room filled with things saved from the rubble of the bombed buildings.

Hogan froze, his senses on alert. The door fell shut behind him, but he still heard the slight inhale before he sensed a present.

Slowly, Hogan turned around. A man, at least sixty if not seventy, awaited him. His gun up and ready.

"Did you ever meet the czar?" Hogan asked, sticking to the agreed-upon pass-code.

"Yes, just yesterday," the man answered in a thick accent, lowering his gun but not putting it away. "You sound almost like a German officer."

"There's no need to insult me," Hogan said. Despite the bad light, Hogan could see that it was the right answer for the man. He pulled out the papers and held them out to the man.

Finally, the old man hid the gun in the pockets of his jacket, which was at least two sizes too big.

He scanned the pages. "Beautiful, tovarich," he said.

Hogan was still trying to decide if the man was sarcastic or not as he went back to Klink.

:~:~:~:

The moonless night left the barracks in the dark. Only the light of the guard towers routinely lit up the room.

Carter used one of these sweeps to get up. Determinedly, he walked over to Kinch, shaking his shoulder.

"What?" Kinch murmured.

"Kinch?"

"Yeah, what?" Kinch pushed back the thin blanket and sat up. By now, most of the men in the barracks were awake.

"I couldn't have met you in college," Carter stated seriously. "Because I didn't go to college yet."

Newkirk threw his pillow against Carter's head. "Blimey, did you wake us all up to tell him that?" He said a few other words that nobody really understood or wanted to understand. But his sentiments were echoed from all around the room.

"It's the truth," Carter said, not quite getting why everybody was so angry. He picked up Newkirk's pillow.

"Carter," Kinch said and sighed, "go back to sleep." And with that, he turned away.

Carter waited until the next light sweep to move back to his bed.

:~:~:~:

They drove back, or better yet, Hogan drove and Klink sat in the back. By now, Hogan had a good idea how to navigate Germany without running into too many roadblocks or getting delayed at every bridge.

He even got used to driving through destroyed cities followed by untouched countryside. Beautiful villages where you could forget that there was a war going on went by until they reached a city again and Hogan asked himself how there could still be people living.

Finally, they saw the conforming familiarity of Stalag XIII in the distance. It was time to switch back to Kommandant Klink and senior officer. Yet something changed.

"Hogan, I could not be more fond of you if you were my brother," Klink suddenly said into the silence.

Hogan paused. "I'm glad to hear. But there's still a war going on."

"I hope it's over soon and that the right sides win."

Surprised, Hogan stared at the German colonel. Sometimes you found sentiment in the strangest places.

"I don't want to lose. We can't lose again," Klink continued, as if he spoke to himself, his gaze directed towards the guard towers of his camp. "But the Nazis shouldn't win, not after what they did to my home and to my country."

A joke was on Hogan's lips, but that would've been inappropriate. Maybe Klink knew more than he let on; maybe being incompetent was his way to fight the Nazis—slow, inefficient, cowardly. But still a fight.

And as Klink glanced over, their eyes met for a short moment. But then it was over, and Klink was back to his usual self, demanding to hurry up.

:~:~:~:

"How did it go?" LeBeau was the first to ask, not even waiting until Hogan had closed the door behind him.

"Well, our boys did an excellent job in Berlin," Hogan said, remembering the bombed city. "And the package was delivered and received."

"How did Klink take it that you played him?" Kinch asked.

Hogan shrugged, remembering their last conversation. Sometimes in war, one is forced into strange positions. Klink seemed to know this, Burkhalter too, as nobody had asked or made demands again.

Shaking his head, Hogan pushed away the thought that Klink only played the fool, even if it made sense. He delayed the German war effort without openly going against it, and he provided cover and help for everybody who was willing to risk something more. "Pretty well. I guess we were both afraid that somebody could actually confirm our story."

LeBeau shuddered, pulling his scarf over his face.

Newkirk cursed.

Kinch raised an eyebrow, as if he considered the possibility. Then he shook his head.

Only Carter tilted his head. "It wouldn't be so bad, would it? I mean, if Klink was your brother, he'd help us, right?"

Hogan opened his mouth, but the others were faster. Pointing out in various words that it wouldn't work out this way.

Having decided that his men had everything under control, Hogan went to his quarters. Still mulling over Carter's words, Hogan decided not to test them, because sometimes he couldn't estimate Klink's reaction.

Klink was his enemy, but an enemy to whom he'd offer a hand.

But if he learned something over the last two days and it was this - genetics didn't make friend or foe. It was the character that decided about ally or enemy.

The End

A/N Thank you for reading!