TeamKingFanfiction

Today however she looked wild and disorderly even for her standards, Sydney judged mercilessly. Her shirt was buttoned in the wrong order, the fabric was wrinkled, indicating to Sydney's horror it wasn't a clean one, but one from the laundry pile. Same for her pants with the stains on the knees. She wasn't even wearing shoes and her hair was an unkempt mess falling loosely over her back and shoulders.

Her glare still pushing him against the back of his chair, he bit back a remark, his instinct for survival for once stronger than his fashion sense.

“Alright! I won't ask what sick plan your perverted brain hatched out this time. I won't ask what you've done with it. I give you one – one! - chance! Hand it over now!” She stretched out her hand, her fingers beckoning him to better do what she told him. Sydney raised his hands in defense, giving a helpless shrug.

“I'm sorry, honey. I'd give you whatever you want, uh, especially if you look at me like that!” His uneasy smile flickered nervously and he pushed his chair a few inches away from his desk when she took one firm step closer. “Calm down, Jo, darling! Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it, I'll get it. Sweetie, I'll invent it if it makes my favorite sister happy!” And keeps me alive, he added in his mind.

“Sydney! My bra!”

“Right!” Snapping his fingers, he picked up the receiver of his telephone and pressed it against his ear. “I'll tell Lukas to order you ten and... what? Your bra?” Slowly, he let the hand holding the receiver sink until it dangled by the side of his chair. His second hand fell flat onto his desk.  

“Don't play dumb, Sonny-boy. You heard me the first time. And stop making that face, I positively feel the IQ dropping in this room when you gawk like that,” she sneered, her voice changing back from shouting to hissing. Sydney's jaws snapped shut and blinked a few times, allowing his widened eyes to shrink back to their normal size.

“Of course, darling.” He put the receiver back onto the phone and cleared his throat. Straightening his back, he moved his chair back to his desk. Mustering up a calm, disconcerted expression with his usual friendly, open smile – but still careful it couldn't be misunderstood as impish – he slightly leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk.

“Jo, my dear,” he began slowly. “I swear to everyone you want that I don't have your... bra! Honey, why should I have it?”

“What do I know, for the same reason you're prancing around like a pink toothfairy - that missed her last waxing appointment.” She raised her eyebrows when Sydney opened the first three buttons of his shirt and revealed a generous patch of his hairy chest.

“Toothfairy? Hm.” He picked up a framed photograph standing next to the phone. The picture showed an old friend from the past standing next to a younger version of himself.

A young, handsome man with an enchantingly shy smile, he appreciated his past self, remembering his early years working for the company before he had his own team with bitter-sweet nostalgia. Before he lost himself in memories, he tilted the frame until the old photograph behind the glass was overshadowed by his reflection.

Instead of the usually rich, strong pink he preferred for his every-day attire, he had chosen a softer, pastel shade of plum, which made a lovely contrast to the heart-shaped, dark pink buttons. Very becoming to his slightly tanned skin, the dark hair and blue eyes, he agreed with himself. His favorite, dark-brown leather jacked had remained in his closet today, instead he had put on one of the same cut – ending right under his chest – made of white leather. He bent his head to the side to have a better look at the fur-trimmed color. On the first glance, it appeared to be of a creamy white, but with the sun falling through the window behind him, the fine, soft hair showed a gentle, faint shimmer of pink. Perfectly beautiful, but...

“I was more heading for a fresh and subtle spring-look, appropriate for Easter. The playful Toothfairy concept rather belongs to Valentine's Day.” He put the picture back to its place and thoughtfully gazed at his sister. “Do you think I should change?”

“Since when are you going for a subtle look? Seriously, Sonny, heart-shaped buttons?” Jo shook her head. “Easter or Valentine's day, fuck that, the only thing you look appropriate for is a dance club, and... don't distract me!” She slammed her fists on the table, making the pens and pencils scattered on it jump. An askew pile of documents was shaking, and threatened to turn into an avalanche of papers falling to the floor.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm listening!” Sydney produced a white, laced handkerchief from one of the drawers. Carefully to not smear his handwriting he tried to rescue the list he had been writing from stains of spilled coffee. “The strength of your hands amazes me, darling. You should consider additional training in hand-to-hand combat.” He stuffed the blotted handkerchief away and removed his coffee mug into safety by placing it on the shelf to his left, before Jo knocked it over for good.

“And...?” she prompted, her fingertips rapping on the desk.

“And nothing.” He shrugged again. “I'm sorry, but I don't have it. Maybe it's in the laundry. I'm sure it will show up soon. Just choose another piece, darling.”

“Geez, Sonny, don't act like I'm the idiot in this team. I checked the laundry, I checked the cupboard. Hell, I even checked under my bed! Yeah sure, I COULD just use another. But that's not the point!” She smashed her hands again on the desk, this time, the pile of papers collapsed for good.

“The point is – it's mine. It was in my room. And now it's gone, and I'm sick of living with fucking jerks who steal my stuff!”

“Honey, nobody steals your stuff!” Sydney protested on behalf of the members of his team.

“No? And what was with my skirt? You know, the short one, blue with the bright flower-pattern?”

“Johanne, first off, it was navy with yellow roses and pansies. Second, Ty only wore it because it ended in his room after a mix up with the cleaned laundry. Third, you hated that thing! You've never worn it!”

“That's not the freaking point!” she repeated. “First the skirt, now my bra!”

“Maybe another mix up? Why don't you ask Ty?”

“Ty doesn't wear bras.”

“Neither do I! Jo!” Sydney pushed back his chair and jumped to his feet. He stretched to his full size, and, putting his hands on his hips and pulling back his shoulders, he took a deep breath.

“Do you see this? My chest is wide and well-build, and I assure you you'll find no trace of needless fat! I'm perfectly in shape, and still lean and slender like a greyhound! Want me to proof it?” He began to open the remaining buttons on his shirt.

“Good God NO! Keep your chest-yeti inside and close that freakingshirt! I believe you!” She turned away, shielding her eyes with her hand from the view of her undressing brother. To her relief, he – after letting out a long breath of relief himself – he buttoned up his shirt.

“Okay, okay.” With a sigh, she pulled up the visitor's chair, letting herself slump onto it. The long legs stretched out in a very un-lady-like fashion - as Sydney thought, his own legs daintily crossed – she threw her head back and stared at the ceiling.

“Let's try to be reasonable. So you don't need it for any kind of weird outfit. And it's also not your kind of playing pranks.”

“Honey, I never play pranks, I-”

“Jean buries Ty under all kinds of dresses, skirts, but the lingerie is usually more fancy. Besides, he doesn't steal,” she continued without taking notice of her brother. Sydney didn't try again to interrupt her, he only silently nodded as she spoke on.

“Toby knows he's not allowed to take stuff from his Ma without asking. I won't even think about Lukas, it's more likely that the twins mysteriously found a way to break, committed the crime and returned quietly to their cell-”

“To their quarters,” Sydney corrected gently.

“To their quarters and nobody ever noticed than Lukas even thinking of anything like that. Syd, do you think he's afraid of me? We get along well enough, but sometimes...” Her anger had calmed down as she now spoke with apparent worry when she thought of her brother's timid assistant; he had shied away from her, his eyes cast down, when she had met him in the corridor earlier.

“No offense, Jo, darling.” Sensing that the atmosphere was relaxing, Sydney dared to show an understanding smile. “Everyone shies away from you and takes cover when your temper breaks through. Sweet and lovely as you are, you can be quite the force of nature.”

“Don't provoke me, and you’ll live.” She gave a little laugh, and her frown eased into a smile. “Gonna go, and talk to Lukas later anyway. “

“I think he's the only one who hasn't made you snap so far. He, and Matthew,” Sydney added with a sly smile, chuckling when his sister's frown returned, but this time, along with a blush on her cheeks.

“Spare me that goofy grin. Compared to some people here Matt is a gentleman.”

“Matt is a man, maybe you should ask him about your missing clothes. Or maybe you've just forgotten it in his room.” He picked up a clipboard from his desk not one second too late. Shielding his face from a stapler thrown at him, he trembled with laughter.

“Sonny Alfons King! Imagine, there are people in this world who prefer to sleep in their own beds!”

“Maybe he took it back as a souvenir...”

“SYDNEY!”

He put the clipboard down, wiping a tear from his eyes. His face hurt from grinning, but he pulled himself together when he saw his sister's uncomfortable expression.

“I'm sorry, Jo. You know I'm just kidding. Don't let my teasing get into your way.” He put the stapler back into its place, congratulating himself for moving his coffee out of the way earlier. This would have made a fine mess, and he hated to bother his assistant with these things.

“Like I would. I just hope you bite your tongue with those stupid jokes when Matt... the others in general... are around.”

“Of course, dear. I always respect your privacy.” He certainly would do so from now on. If some of the past remarks, meant as harmless fun and leg-pulling, had reached Jo she would have made sure he knew it. Painfully sure. It wasn't wise to push his luck in this matter, nor to upset his sister for real.

“Oh yes, I'm sure you do.” The sarcasm dripping from her words made him cringe; he would have a word with the other guys later, asking them to kindly forget any conversations they had with him about Jo in the recent past. Well, maybe begging would be more appropriate, he reconsidered, when her questioning glare seemed to drill through his eyes into his brain.

“Well, dear, is there anything I can do to help you... on your quest?” he offered along with a smile, hoping he wouldn't have to organize a search of the whole base and its surrounding, including the sewers. “If there's anything your big brother can do for you, just tell me.”

“Thanks. I'll deal with it myself. Guess I'll pay the laundry facility a visit after all.” Sighing, she stood up, shoving the chair back from where she had pulled it up. She stepped on a piece of paper. Her hair fell into her face when she bent down to pick the document up and put it back onto Sydney's desk. “Want me to help with that?” She looked over the mess scattered over the floor while tying her hair into a loose ponytail with a hairband she found in her pant's pocket.

“No need, darling. I'll ask Lukas to clean up later. In fact, if you see him, would you be so kind and tell him to come and see me?” He searched his pen between the papers, contented himself with a pencil he found under the list he wanted to complete, and started writing.

“You are aware you can easily clean this up yourself, aren't you? He's not your maid.”

“Uh, yes, I mean of course he isn't!” The tip of the pencil broke off, leaving an ugly gray mark on the paper. He dropped the pencil, not noticing it rolled off the table while he tried to explain himself with a few vague gestures of his hands. “Of course I would and can do that myself, it's just...”

“It's just that if you did everything yourself you wouldn't have an apology to keep him close all the time.” Giggling, she closed the door behind her, and Sydney slumped back into his chair, exhaling slowly.

“Touché, dear,” he called after her, giving a laugh. “But thanks to you, I'll unfortunately be so busy finding my writing utensils that somebody has to help me cleaning up.” A quick look at his watch – almost noon. Knowing his assistant's love for a regular schedule, he reached for the phone and dialed the speed calling for the cafeteria.

~ ~ ~

Tyler took a step back. His arms crossed in front of his chest, he studied his work with furrowed brows. Then he broke into a smile, giving a satisfied nod.

“Perfect.”

“Ty, is the trouble really worth it?” a low voice whispered. The tips of Lukas’ shoes were nervously tapping on the floor. His friend had asked him to stand guard at the door and to give him a signal if anyone came close to the conference room. Lukas had agreed – albeit unwillingly and only after Tyler had promised to leave his name out of the whole plan once it was discovered.

“Bullshit, it's just some fun. How 'bout not being a sissy for once? Loosen up a bit,” Tyler chuckled, giving his friend a pat on his tensed back.

“Bunny Boobs? Didn't know your complexes run that deep, Barbie.” A rough chuckle followed the snarky words, spoken by a third voice.

Giving a yelp, Tyler turned around abruptly enough to stumble over his own feet. He fell to the ground with a second outcry, this time of pain when he crashed hard on his rump. Lukas, gasping for air, shrank back and swirled around, his head between his shoulders. He made light step backwards, ready to retreat further if he had to. His hand on the gun in his holster, he glanced from Tyler to the new arrival.

“Hello, fags. Nice weather, ain't it?” Mike grinned, and took another bite from a green apple, grinding the chunk between his teeth with as much noise as he could manage. Gabe stood next to him, his arms hanging down by his sides. While Mike leaned casually against his twin's side, one arm resting on his twin's shoulder, Gabe's body and expression were frozen. Only his fingers were twitching, his gaze glued to Lukas' hand touching the gun.

“Behave, will ye!” another voice chuckled.

“Oh, you are here, too!” A faint smile appeared on Lukas' face. He let go of his gun and offered Tyler a hand to pull him up.

Behind the twins the two chefs of the team were standing, O'Conner and Nicolai. Both carried shotguns - O'Conner letting his rest against his shoulder while he grinned at Lukas and Tyler over Mike's shoulder, winking at them with his remaining good eye. Nicolai’s face was a hard frown, and the end of his weapon pointed at Gabe's back, the gun looking small in the large hands of the 6.5' tall Russian.

“What the fuck is going on here? Why are those bastards outside?!” Tyler snapped, straightening his skirt and pulling his shirt back in place, still staring at the twins' waists. In his world, these guys either belonged locked away in their room or kept in control with Jean's long, strong tentacles wrapped around them, ready to crush some rips and organs at the smallest hint of danger.

“They aren't even in chains,” Lukas mumbled, caught between worry and astonishment.

“Oh, look, Gabe!” Mike nudged his twin's side with his elbow. “The Fag-Lord's lapdog is here, too. Ouch! Come on!” He rubbed the back of his head after a hearty smack from O'Conner's hand.

“Sydney asked us to, uh, how did he word it? Show them lads around a bit. Letting them have a sniff of spring’s fresh air!” O’Connor waved his hand in an attempt of mocking Sydney’s gestures.

“Yeah, walking us around like dumb dogs,” Mike snorted. The cook only laughed, ruffling the cussing twin's hair. Gabe watched the dark, calloused hand touching his brother from the corner of his eyes, but remained still.

“Jean is away,” Nikolai grumbled. “Doctor busy. Sydney asked us to watch their work-out. And allow them to walk around the base if peaceful.”

“And when they don't stay peaceful?” Tyler narrowed his eyes, swallowing hard when Mike flashed his teeth in a wide, humorless grin. “Syd's insane, leaving the insane bastards in the care of our cooks.”

“Careful, laddie, nobody here ain't been all life what they are now, aye?”

“We don't need Spy to protect. Right, Mikhail?” Nicolai took hold of Mike's, his fingers digging into the shoulder's flesh like a vice. Mike flinched, struggling against the urge to drop down on his knees to escape the grip.

“Calm, lad.” O'Conner stepped closer, reaching out for Gabe when the twin twisted around, his dull eyes suddenly flashing up in alarm.

“Don't touch... him, asshole!” Mike still winced when Nicolai let go of his shoulder. He gave his twin a push, shoving him away from O'Conner's hand. A clicking noise echoed through the room, and three weapons were pointed at the twins.

“Hey, hey! Don't panic, we're all cool and nice here.” Mike raised his hands, glancing at his twin while he spoke. Gabe answered with a shrug, and Mike nodded in return. Their poses relaxed. The four men stared at them for a moment longer, then Lukas put his gun back into the holster, and O'Conner leaned his weapon against his shoulder again.

“See, Tyler, we are all best friends.” O'Conner's grin returned, nothing in his docile face hinting at the hard smile baring his teeth and the fierce glow in his one, healthy eye. In that short moment, Tyler and Lukas felt like they had learned something about the blood-lusting past of their usually kind cook they weren't supposed to see. And probably didn't want to see.

“They don't behave like friends, they go to respawn.” Nicolai smiled with grim satisfaction. Tyler recollected his memories of the time he worked as a kitchen help under Nicolai's orders. He was fascinated how the giant wore the same calm and superior expression when he prepared a chicken for dinner as he showed now, when he wouldn't hesitate to kill a man if he had to. The way Michael flinched and rubbed his shoulder, Tyler suspected that Nicolai didn't need a gun to deal with a defiant twin. He shuddered when he thought of his own loose tongue, and how he had tried to escape less fun kitchen duties, only now realizing how lucky he was that his head was still on his shoulders.

“Here.” Gabe had bent down and picked up the half eaten apple Mike had dropped when Nicolai had been squashing his shoulder.

“Do you freaking idiot really think I still wanna eat that?!” Mike tried to shove the fruit away from him, but Gabe pressed it into his hands.

“Yes.”

Everyone around the twins had fallen silent for a moment. It was rare to hear Gabe speak, and over Mike's ability to hiss and rant until he was out of breath and his face red, most members of the team sometimes forgot Gabe was able to speak at all. Lukas and Tyler looked at both twins, then at each other, shrugging.

“Is good. Reward for being a good boy, cherish it.” With exaggerated gentleness, Nicolai slapped Mike's back.

“Mike. Behaving. Enough to get a reward. Sure.” Tyler dragged the last word until it broke off into a chortle.

“What's that supposed to mean, fuckface?”

“Actually,” O'Conner chimed in, a broad grin on his face. “Mike didn't keep his mouth still for one bloody second, trying to snatch from the cakes, and swearing like a sailor when Nicolai told him he can have some of them apples. I tossed it to Gabe, for being such a pleasant, silent lad.”

“Bullshit-story! You assholes are -”

“Mike made a big fuss,” Nicolai continued with an amused grin. “Tried to steal it from his brother. Gabe threw it at Mike's head, in the end.”

Tyler smirked, while Lukas hid an amused grin. The younger men had a vague fear that it wasn't a good idea to provoke the twins by laughing at their expenses. The two cooks didn't have any qualms to laugh loud enough to drown Mike's angry voice.

“Big children.” Nicolai grinned, glancing at Gabe, amused by the hind of content he found on the usually blank face.

“They aren't half as bad to have around, ye know.” O'Conner patted the gun he was holding. “If ye make sure they ain't going on a rampage they're bloody entertaining.”

“Go and fuck a capricorn!”

“Oh come on, like you even know what a Capricorn is.” Tyler rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Oh yeah, right, 'cause I'm not from some fancy home like you fishfucker I of course don't know what a capricorn is. Of course only a stinky shitbait like you knows a fucking capricorn is a dumb horse with a -”

“Unicorn.”

“Eh?” Mike looked at his twin, but Gabe stared at the floor, faintly grinning to himself. The men around them chuckled.

“Fuck you all.” Mike took a disgruntled bite from his apple, chewed, and flinched. Making a face of disgust, he pulled a long, blond hair from his tongue.

“Enough!” Nicolai's growl cut off the snarky remark that the Scout's gleefully shining eyes promised before Tyler could open his mouth.

“Anyway, ye two, what's that about?” Like his friend, O'Conner had no intention to allow the situation to go out of control. If he ignored the twins' little fights and Mike's foul mouth and threats against them, humanity and earth in general, supervising the duo had turned out pleasantly well today. He and Nicolai wouldn't hesitate to use their weapons, but if they didn't have to, the better.

“That?” Tyler pointed at his masterpiece behind him and grinned. “Thought that thing needed a little improvement.”

“Big children, too.” Nicolai's chuckle didn't dampen Tyler's pride. Lukas' face reddened as he saw the chances to be kept out of Tyler's prank slimming away. Biting his tongue, he looked over his shoulder.

Behind them, in front of the conference table stood the statue of a rabbit, the pride of Sydney's decorations for Easter. Five feet tall, its artificial pelt of a pastel pink, it was holding a basket with white and yellow roses, while standing on a podest that added to its heigh.

By the team, it was considered as one of the most obnoxious things they had to look at since the foundation of Team King. Zombie invasions and twins running amok during battle sessions included.

Tyler had decided to add a personal note, turning that thing into a piece of art, at least in his eyes. Around the bunnies chest, he had attached a bra. The deep red color of the piece of sporty lingerie clashed with the pink. The cotton material was stretched thin over two bright orange clay pumpkins Tyler had found between the decoration from last Halloween.

“Geez, just 'cause you're an A minus in yar pants ya don't have to give that freaking thing a C-cup,” Mike snickered, picking a short, dark hair from the apple before he took another careful bite.

“How is it even possible that a retarded dumbass like you knows 'bout cup sizes, but doesn't know the freaking difference between a Capricorn and a unicorn?” Tyler snarled back.

“You...!”

“Where did ye even get this thing?” O'Conner interrupted Mike and Tyler, nipping another of the seemingly endless number of bickerings between them in the bud. “Is it one of yours or did you steal it from...”

“TYLER ROBERTO DONATELLI!” The door at the other side of the room was smashed open. A pair of dark blue eyes in a red, angry face pierced through Tyler.

“Ooooh fuck... Lukas!” His face the color of the wall, Tyler turned at Lukas, pleading for help. But his friend only shrugged, his cheeks glowing crimson against the otherwise pale skin.

“Guess ya better run, bunny-boy.” Chuckling at first, Mike broke out into laughter when Tyler turned on his heel, dodging a raging Jo who lunged towards him, her fingernails scratching over his shirt. But he was too quick, she couldn't grab him.

“YOU! AGAIN! THIS time I ain't gonna let ya get away with it! Underwear-thief!”

“Hey, Jozilla, why don't you eat Mike first, he's fatter and juicier!” In spite of himself Tyler couldn't help laughing as he circled around the twins and their guards, evading Jo's grip a second time.

“You fucking... HA!” Mike laughed out in triumph when Tyler ran past them and tripped, almost falling over with a shrill yelp. With the most serene expression, Gabe mustered the table and chairs arranged behind the rabbit statue, pulling his stretched out leg back before anyone but Mike noticed.

“You dumb, retarded...” Tyler hissed at Gabe, unbending himself.

“Oh no, Jozilla's still on the loose!” Mike exclaimed in faked horror, grinning, when Tyler shrieked, the angry woman this time taking hold of his arm.

The Scout wiggled himself out of her grip and sprinted away and through the door, the cursing Jo right on his heels.

“Wonder what the lad will say when he doesn't get any dessert tonight.” O'Conner gave Nicolai a nudge.

“If Jo is done, he can only drink soup,” the Russian chuckled.

“I'm sorry, but I'm sure Tyler didn't mean to be a thief, it was just a prank, a bit of fun... Of course it was not okay to take Jo's, uh, things...” Lukas rubbed the back of his neck, glancing back at the statue. It was more difficult than he had expected to come to Tyler's defense when he looked at the monstrous thing, that looked all the more hideous after Tyler's “improvements”. How he should justify stealing from Jo was beyond him, but he also didn't want to fail as a friend.

“Nay, laddie, this is nothing of our business,” O'Conner stopped him with a wave of his hand.

“Sydney's order. Reward the boys if they are good. Punish them or Tyler if they provoke each other,” Nicolai finished. Suddenly, he chuckled again, poking Mike's back with the gun. “Had been bad, had been good, had been bad again, and good. No idea what to do with them.”

“Can't believe I'm saying that shit one day, but how 'bout bringing us back into our cage?” Mike groaned, tossing the remains of his apple over his shoulder, missing – to his dismay - the tall cook's head by an inch. “Where we're safe from all this crazy bullshit?”

“Wish granted.” The Russian grinned, grabbing the squirming twin by the shoulder where he suspected a dark bruise of the shape of his fingers from before under Mike's shirt.

“Go!” Pushing Mike forward, Nicolai steered him towards the door. Gabe and O'Conner followed.

“Oh yeah, before me forgets! Sydney called earlier, he wants to talk to ye 'bout something somebody lost! Better run and see him!” O'Conner called over his shoulder, waving at Lukas.

Lukas nodded, but waited until the cooks along with the twins had left the conference room. He took another look at the rabbit and its new accessory. He took a step towards it, reaching for the bunny's back. Tyler had refused to listen to him when he warned him about stealing Jo's belongings, especially such a delicate piece. Maybe he could calm her down if he returned it to her. Although… confronting her right now was the last thing he wanted to do. He could also return it to her room, hoping she wouldn't come back for him and ask him about how it ended up there. Which would mean somebody had entered her room without her submission. Weighing the consequences of her seeing him holding her bra or figuring out he had entered her room, he decided to do what he had yearned to do from the beginning – staying out of this matter.

Spending day after day with the same routine consisting of sleeping, eating and workouts, confined to the limited space of their cell, Mike had lost track of time. Had it been six or seven years since they had been bought free from the asylum and sold to that creepy company of freaks? It didn't matter.

Finally, they had returned. They had seized the chance and escaped, jumped out of the driving car when their guard had been distracted only for a moment. Mike grinned, for the first and probably last time in his life thanking Tyler, who, in Mike's eyes, had for once proven to be useful when he demanded Jean's attention.

They had been more than lucky that they survived this stunt with only minor injuries. The several scratches weren't worth mentioning, as weren't Gabe's bruised rips and Mike's swollen ankle. They had experienced worse wounds of all kinds, and tonight, once they stepped through the front doors and fired their guns, they would finally close one of those that persistently had refused to heal.

The rain had already washed the blood from Gabe's forehead. His twin had been right – it was just a small cut above his temple, looking worse than it was, Mike had worried too much.

In the end, the worst injury happened to Mike's upper arm. But thanks to Gabe's firm grip the broken bone had snapped back in place easily. As long as Mike didn't move it too much he should be fine. They would find something to use as a bandage later. For now, the bone remained in its meant position, and it was only the left arm anyway; his right arm was in perfect shape and handling a gun or throwing out punches shouldn't be a problem. The pain flashing through his shoulder and down his back with every step on the hard and slippery cobblestone road didn't bother him. It remembered him he really was awake, and the whitewashed building stoutly standing in front of the gray sky was real and not a dream.

Mike shivered, not only from the cold that began to creep through his bones. His brother was shivering, too, but something else was amiss. Mike had expected to see his own excitement mirrored in his twin's face. Finally, they would have their chance, they would get their revenge and pay them back. Everyone. The useless guards. The doctors that had been talking and talking and talking, as if they knew everything. Yet, they had been blind to the happenings behind their backs, when the so-called male nurses and aides ruled the corridors at night, once the fine and oh so smart doctors had returned to their cozy homes.

Gabe's eyes were void of any excitement. His stare was clouded, the usual bright blue looking like dulled, gray steel. Mike blinked when rainwater dripped into his eyes, trying to grasp the discomforting whispers racing through his mind that would explain the uneasy feeling forming in his guts. Gabe wasn't the skinny teenager – closer to death than life - anymore. He hadn't only gained weight - like Mike, also a toned, muscular shape, with strong arms and broad shoulders. They had been taught to use weapons, and to use their bodies as weapons – whyever their 'owners' thought it was a good idea, Mike didn't question it.

They weren't children anymore if they had ever been, and their bodies had stopped resembling anything childlike years ago.

Those who didn't know them, those who didn't know who they were, where they came from and what had happened to them would have ever guessed what kind of past connected them with the asylum.

Thick, wet hair framed Gabe's sharp features, the cheeks full and healthy, just like his own. Nowadays, nobody would dare to come to close and lay a hand on him, and even if they did, Mike would smash them the second Gabe's muscled would begin to tense up, and both of them knew that.

Somehow, Mike hadn't been aware of the changes in his brother's eyes over the years. Or more likely, he had become used to it, to see them shine. With amusement, with anger or fear, even lust.

Even when he spaced out, locking his mind away from the world around him, they would only go vacant, but not dead.

These, however, were the lifeless eyes from six or seven years ago.

This was wrong, they didn't belong to Gabe, he wasn't the broken child anymore. A wave of anger made him shudder. He didn't want to see Gabe like this. The empty expression, the dullness... he wanted them to stop ridiculing his brother. They were strong, they had learned to fight!

“Bullshit! Damn, idiot, we aren't helpless kids! We can take out five of those fucking security guards easily, and at this hour there usually were only two or three!” he yelled. The unmoved face irritated him, and for a moment he wondered if he had only imagined hearing Gabe speaking before. The gun was still pointing at his shoulder.

“What's the plan, man? Ya wanna stop them from killing me by killing me?” Opening his arms as if offering himself as a convenient target, Mike laughed, ignoring the pain in his left arm when the ends of the broken bone ground against each other.

“Geez, don't be a coward! What ya wanna do, go back? No! No way! Gabe, dammit!” He stuffed his own gun in the waistband of his pants and walked over to his brother. Gabe's arm dropped when his twin came closer and hang limb by his side when Mike took him by his shoulders and shook him.

“How 'bout trusting your big brother a bit?” Mike's hands ran over his twins' cheeks, shoving the wet hair out of his face. “Let's go already. Come and enjoy the show, and I promise to save the best bits for you. Fuck, I've been waiting for this for years, man. I wanna see those assholes choke on their own fucking blood and brain matter! Please, Gabe, don't ruin this, who knows when we get another chance like this.” His desperate plea ended in a growl as the excitement of what was going to happen whirled through his mind, mixing with blinding rage when he thought of what had happened here in the past. He buried his fingers in his brother's hair, pulling him into a kiss. Their lips were wet and cold from the rain, and a chill ran down his spine when he felt his brother's warm breath.

“Ouch! Fuck you!” Mike let go of him, taking a step back when Gabe bit him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand – blood. And his brother was standing still, his face as blank and unmoved as hit had been since they had reached this spot so close to the asylum.

“Idiot. Ain't I'm doing all this shit for you? Come on now, wanna finish this and be outta here before the other fags find us. Didn't break my fucking arm to get caught again.” Grumbling to himself, he took the gun from his waistband. He licked his lip, feeling the crack in the skin where Gabe's teeth had broken through. The metallic taste was still strong. He looked at Gabe, watching how a thin thread of blood trickled down his brother's chin. Suddenly, Mike grinned.

“This counts as foreplay, gonna get even for that later. Let's go, we're running out of time.”

He grabbed his brother's hand and tried to pull him along, but Gabe didn't move.

“I'm not going in there.”

Giving a deep groan of frustration, Mike let go of his twin's wrist.

“FINE!” In a dramatic gesture, he raised his arms towards the sky, not even turning around to look at his brother. He felt one of his rages boiling up, just the mood he would need for his task. It was bad enough to imagine Gabe's blank expression with his dead, dull gaze, seeing it now was something he didn't need.

“Be a sissy and wait here. I'm gonna do this alone.” Water splashed up his legs when he stomped towards the building, readying the gun. Smashing the skulls of whoever he would meet first would feel better, but he didn't want to take any risks. The first guards of the asylum he would simply shoot down. Maybe into their throats and stomachs, that would do them justice. In his mind, he recalled the faces of two of the guys that had been in charge of his twin. They wouldn't get away with bleeding to death. A bullet to the guts wasn't enough to make them pay for two years of torture and abuse. Mike would make sure they received what they deserved, and he would enjoy every second.

“I'm not going in there!”

Hearing the very same words for the second time, there was something in Gabe's voice that made Mike stop and turn around - an urgent, almost pleading desperation, but also unshakeable firmness.

“Got that the first time, so why on... Gabe! Stop this bullshit!” His eyes wide open, he didn't dare to blink when the rain kept running over his face. In front of him, Gabe hadn't moved an inch. Slowly, he was lifting his arm again, cocking the gun with a click.

“Okay, shoot me, and what's next? Are ya gonna bury me or leave me here, running for it?” This was one of the moments he hated when he looked at his twin and wasn't able to read what was going on in his mind. His features were still as empty as before, but Mike sensed the storm raging behind this tensed, void facade. He could only hope that he'd find the words Gabe needed to hear to snap out of it.

“So you want me dead? Wanna leave ya alone for good? Or are ya just gonna knock me out? And after that? Are you gonna call a doc? And lie to him so he wouldn't call the police? YOU of all people?” Holding his breath, he watched Gabe's mouth twitch. Something in the blue eyes flickered, giving them for a second their shine back. The storm inside of him was calming down, and Mike thought he could almost hear the gears of his brother's brain work.

“You are right.”

Just when Mike was about to sigh with relief, a faint, sad smile appeared on Gabe's face, telling Mike that everything was just getting worse.

“Gabe...!” In alarm, Mike wanted to take a step towards his brother but stopped. The gun was lifted once more, this time, pointing at Gabe's own temple.

“I'm sorry. I don't want you to go because I cannot. I'm useless, and you will never be free as long as I hold you back. It's time you take care of yourself already and run.” Slowly, his hand shaking, he pulled the trigger.

“NO!”

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the street and was finally silenced by the constant drumming of the rain.

Mike tossed his gun away and leaped at his twin, catching him before his head hit the hard stone. Gabe's own gun slid over the ground and disappeared unnoticed in a puddle.

“Idiot! Dammit, ya freaking idiot!” Mike screamed into the pale, silent face as he put his brother down. “Fucking bullshit! Ya think I gonna let ya opt out like this? Leaving me behind with your dumb corpse?” He pulled and stretched the collar of Gabe's shirt until the fabric ripped, revealing the dark hole in his shoulder. Cursing to himself, he ignored his blood-covered hands and the red smears they left on his own skin as he pulled his own shirt over his head. Pressing it against the wound his bullet had torn into the flesh, he hoped to stop the bleeding.

“If ya die on me here I'm gonna kill ya!” Mike spat, anxiously watching the read stream seeping through the makeshift compression dressing consisting of his shirt and the pressure of his hands. A shot in the shoulder shouldn't be lethal. There were no vital organs and even if he hit the main blood vessel, stopping the bleeding should save Gabe from any real danger. He was definitely more likely to survive this than a bullet fired straight through his skull. Still, this was so much blood...

“You are not making sense.” A low chuckle caught his attention. Reluctant to take his eyes away from his hands and their task, Mike glanced at his twin's face. Gabe's eyes were closed, but he was smiling. Not the same sad smile from before. Rather that kind of amused smile that made it difficult for Mike to decide if he wanted to hug his brother or to punch his face. As neither was an option, he gave a snort in response.

“You're not making any fucking sense, dumbass. Thought you were over this 'wanna die' bullshit and -“ He stopped mid-sentence. There had been a time, after their sudden discharge from the asylum, when he would never have left Gabe alone with anything pointy or sharp or that could be turned into a rope.

Let alone with anything like a gun.

“How's your arm?”

“What?” Mike's thoughts were interrupted by his twin's voice. It was faint, already becoming hoarse, and Mike wasn't sure if it was because of the blood loss or because of the cold. Kneeling on the wet ground, he noticed he felt chilly himself. Lying on his back, it had to be worse for Gabe. This wasn't good. This wasn't how he had imagined their escape.

“Your arm. It's broken, remember?” Gabe sighed, flinching when he tried to sit up.

“Keep lying down, ya idiot. My arm's fine.” Mike looked around. Nobody had noticed them or heard the gunshot. The asylum was the only building inhabited by people all round the clock. The handful of other structures by the main road belonged to a factory. Mike had never cared what was manufactured here, or if the place was only deserted because it was a weekend, or if had been closed. Important to him was that nobody was here to catch them, but also nobody to help.

But at least they should be able to find a shelter from the rain, and maybe something he could use to dress up Gabe's wound, and his own arm. If the company was closed, it could buy them some time, otherwise, they would have to find a way to get away and hide somewhere else. If they were lucky, they could find more weapons, and maybe something to eat. Or dry clothes. If not... anyway, he wouldn't be able to move his brother until he was sure the bleeding stopped and wouldn't start again.

“Fuck it all. Have to get ya out of the cold.” Cursing to himself, he wiped the rain from his forehead, leaving another trace of blood that was soon washed over his whole face.

“Call him.”

“Hu?” A cold hand touched Mike's cheek, slowly stroking over the stubble. He looked at his smiling brother in confusion.

“You know who. There must be a telephone somewhere. Call him. He'll help us.”

“No!” One hand still pressing onto the wound, he brushed Gabe's off with the other. “Are you kidding me?! He's gonna take us back! Ya can't be serious!” Staring at the calm face looking up at him Mike saw his brother was serious.

“He betrayed us. You know what happened to us the last time you trusted him. What happened to you!” Mike continued to protest.

“Mike. We have no food, we both are injured. The city is hours away. People come back here on Monday. And I... I don't want to stay here. Not so close. Please, Mike, call him.” Gabe reached for one of Mike's blood-covered hands.

“Can't wander off and leave ya here. And I don't remember his number.” Stubbornly, he gnawed on his lip. The small wound from before broke open again. Funny how a few drops were enough to fill a mouth with the taste of blood, he thought by himself, staring at the shirt beneath his hands, unable to tell if it the black fabric looked even darker because of his brother's blood or the rain.

“I won't die from a shoulder wound. I'll wait over there.” Gabe turned his head, nodding at a nearby tree. “And I remember the number.”

“And what should I tell him so he wouldn't send us to jail right away? Or back there?” He pointed behind his shoulder, at the asylum, but Gabe grinned.

“Well, you of all people should be able to come up with a good explanation. And he won't. He got us out of there.”

“Okay, I give up.” He understood, unable to find it funny. Carefully, he removed the shirt. The wound looked still raw, but the blood had stopped streaming. However, if Gabe moved too much when running or trying to fight, it would start again. The bullet had to be removed, and the wound stitched.

“Come.” He helped his twin up and half carried, half dragged him away from the road, to one of the trees. Letting him glide to the ground, he propped his brother up against the tree trunk. He sat down next to him and pressed the shirt against the wound, insisting Gabe would keep it in place once he was gone. As he stood up, he wiped his wet and bloodstained hands on his rain-soaked pants, grumbling to himself when he only succeeded to smear the blood even more over his skin.

“Mike.”

“What is it?” He had repeated the numbers Gabe had dictated him several times until he felt confident he would remember and was about to dash over to the next building, searching for a working telephone. With a frown, he looked down at his shivering twin. Soon, it would be dark, and the wind was freshening up.

“Next time we escape, let's just run away. Far away from this place, and I won't be useless.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Mike stuck out his tongue and ran off.

* * *

“I think Mike told me more than he wanted to when he called me. I was really surprised to hear his voice when I answered the phone.”

Once Sydney and Martin had left the sickbay with the cursing and hissing Mike, the man in the trench coat grabbed a chair and sat down. Holding a cup of coffee with one hand, his other hand ran through his wiry hair. When he had met the twins for the first time they had been scrawny teenagers, and only a few single hairs over his ears had been gray.

Now it was only a matter of time when most of his hair was gray instead of brown.

His friendly but worried eyes observed the younger twin. The wound was hidden beneath the white dressing and slowly, the cover was returning to his face.

“So he shot you so you wouldn't shoot yourself,” the detective continued. He offered the cup to the twin, but Gabe ignored him, staring at the wall behind him. With a sigh, the man took a sip himself.

“Haven't seen you two in a while. Compared to the last time, you look really well. Considering that one of you has been shot, the other has a broken arm, and both of you are covered in bruises... guess that says a lot about the last time.” He gave a laugh. “Jumping out of a running car on a highway, stealing guns from an unobserved police car, finding your way back to that place... reckless as always. Let me guess, going there was Mike's idea. Thought so.” He sighed again when he thought he saw something twitch in Gabe's face.

“Talking about guns,” he continued. He put the cup back on the table and reached into the pocket of his coat, producing one of the guns Mike had stolen. With raised eyebrows, he held it up.

“Found this one in a puddle. It wasn't loaded, but I think you know that. You never planned to harm yourself, right?” Noticing the blush on the twin's face, he grinned. He had lowered his voice, aware that the room was monitored. Sydney had only reluctantly left him alone with the twin, insisting at first that at least Jean, their usual guard, should stay, but the detective insisted on talking with Gabe alone, convinced that the twin wouldn't attack him. Finally, Sydney had yielded, after he had promised his old friend to see him later and reveal to him what magic he used to make Gabe trust him enough to remain so calm, even without his brother present.

There was not much to reveal, except that it was one of his rules to not betray the trust of others, especially not of the twins. So Sydney and his friends would have to contain their curiosity. He couldn't prevent them from watching the conversation, but there was no need why they should hear what he had to say. He had failed the twins once, and the consequences had been devastating for the boys.

'Well, they aren't boys anymore.' He smiled to himself as he mustered the young man. The scratches and the bandage aside – Gabe had never looked that healthy, at least not physically. Years ago, when he had encountered a pair of run down teenage twins for the first time, they had still been more children than men. They had been dirty, hungry, worn out and distrusting everyone.

He only wished Gabe's mental health would be more like it used to be before they had been sent to the asylum. His smile disappeared, and a sudden rush of guilt rolled over him. However, there was nothing he could do to make his mistakes undone, and he comforted himself with the thought that Gabe seemed a lot better since the day he and Sydney had gotten them out of that place, unaware at that time to what horrors they had put a stop.

“I'm really glad about that, you know. I mean, that you want to live.” He almost whispered, grinning again as he imagined Sydney sitting in front of the monitors, straining his ears to overhear them.

“People here are taking good care of you and your brother. I wish you two would understand how lucky you are and stop trying to run away. Well, but maybe you do.” He nodded at the gun in his hand. “That was the reason you tricked Mike, wasn't it? So he wouldn't kill and ruin everything? You planned he would shoot you. I know you guys, a shoulder wound wouldn't have stopped you from running away. Not when you were a scrawny runt ten years ago, and certainly not now, now that you've grown into a strong man.” Chuckling, he put the gun back into his pocket.

“You wanted him to call me and bring you back because this place is good for both of you, isn't that right?”

Gabe didn't answer, nor did his face give away anything that the detective could read as a yes o no. Silently, he watched the twin. There used to be a time Gabe would have answered, and he wished he could restore the twin's trust in him. Well, at least Gabe remembered the promise he had given him – to call anytime when they got into trouble, and he would try to help them, without involving anyone else from the police officially. After what the twins to endure because he once had broken that promise, he neither blamed Mike for openly hating him nor Gabe for remaining silent.

A knock at the door put an abrupt end to his hope of finding a way to reach Gabe. With a sigh, he stood up. As it was, he was probably lucky that, for the sake of old times, Gabe would ignore him, instead of trying to kill him. He had kept an eye on them from the distance – Sydney himself had broken his boss' strict rules about confidentiality and sent a copy of the twins' files to the detective. He knew what they were capable of, and that they had reached a point where they wouldn't hesitate anymore to destroy anything or anyone they saw as a threat to their safety.

“Guess that's your medic, or Sydney, that curious son of a bitch. Was good to see you again, kid.” Without thinking about it, he ruffled through the twins now dry hair as he walked past him.

“I'd go everywhere with him.”

The hand already at the knob at the door, the detective turned around.

“What did you say?” Holding his breath as if he feared the sound of inhaling would drown Gabe's voice, he listened.

“Everywhere. But not there.” Still staring at the wall, Gabe fell silent again. Before the detective could say anything, a second, more impatient knocking followed.

“I understand. Then... don't forget my number, okay?” When Gabe nodded, he opened the door.

“You would think a woman of her position would, well...” He looked at the ceiling, as if the white pained offered the word he was looking for in his mind.

“Wouldn't send an invite on such a short notice?” a timid voice suggested, but Sydney continued shaking his head, although he stopped searching the ceiling and smiled at the man standing next to him.

“No, dear. Look at this! The print, the paper! Simple, every day paper! You would think a lady like the Administrator would use paper of a higher quality when she sends an invitation. Or at least of a less mundane color. A soft, pale pink, nothing too strong, maybe cherry blossom...”

“Well,” Lukas began, looking once more at the letter lying on Sydney's desk.

“It is nothing special, but it serves the purpose.” His idea to interrupt his boss' in one of his fervent speeches was even more effective than intended, too effective for his his liking.

“Serves the purpose!” In earnest shock, Sydney inhaled sharply, hardly able to believe what he had just heard.

“Lukas, darling. How boring would the world be if everything and everyone only served their purpose. What a horrible thought! No, my dear,” he continued to explain. “An invitation from the Administrator herself is nothing you receive everyday. I expected more style. More glamor!

Lukas!”

“Y-yes?” The young man almost jumped when addressed so firmly.

“You know where I keep the colored sheets of paper? For invitations, birthday and Christmas cards? When you pack our things, add a selections of examples. I'll have a word with her on that. Black print on white paper! Impossible!”

Lukas highly doubted that the Administrator would be thrilled when Sydney would give her unasked advice about glamorous invitations, but he nodded. Hopefully, Sydney would have forgotten about this later. It would feel horrible to have Sydney thinking that his assistant was careless and not even able to accomplish a simple task like that, but Lukas had already decided it would be for Sydney's best if Lukas 'forgot' to add pink paper to their luggage.

A knock on the door distracted them both from their very different thoughts about the matter at hand.

Without waiting for Sydney to call them in, Jean opened the door, pulling the twins forward. Tyler followed the trio, a vicious smile on his face, the result of watching Mike struggling fiercely against the Tentaspy's grip around his waist, while Gabe indifferently stumbled forward, more dragged along than walking by himself.

Well, it was more like watching Mike's desperate, angry attempts at struggling in vain. Restrained, in addition to Jean's strong tentacles, with their hands cuffed behind their backs and their movement limited by ankle shackles, they were tumbling rather helplessly through the building.

“Jean!” Sydney's frown disappeared and he beamed at his visitors.

“Just the man I wanted to see! What do you think?” He held up the invitation.

“Would you choose a soft yellow, not too sunny, of course, or a light pink, nothing too aggressive, of course?”

“Don't tell me you sent for Tyler and me - and those brats -” He gave the twins a little push, “to discuss the color of your letters.”

“No, of course not,” Sydney assured him, but Jean's eyebrows remained raised, not trusting his superior's grin at all.

“I see, you want me to come to the point.” With a placid smile, Sydney leaned back into his chair, stretching comfortably before he bent over the letter again.

“Today, I received a letter from the Administrator,” he announced, nodding knowingly when Tyler's eyes widened and Jean gave a short whistle.

“She invited Lukas, the twins and me to see her tomorrow. We'll leave in the early morning hours. Mike, please. Let me finish,” he tried to sooth the twin.

“Finish yourself, pansy.” Mike had been silent until now, sulking while and observing the other men's movements and gestures. When the situation didn't reveal any immediate threat, he suddenly began to spat an array of insults at Sydney and Jean.

“We are not going anywhere with ya faggots!”

“You are offered an opportunity to leave this, how did you call it just a moment ago, shittiest shithole of a dump, and now you don't want to go anywhere? Mon dieu, this child never ceases to surprise me with its stupidity.” In pretended dismay, Jean rubbed his temples, dramatically rolling his eyes towards the same ceiling Sydney had studied earlier.

“Who are ya calling a child, sprat bait?”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen! Please!” Sydney stood up and raised his hands, his face looking almost painfully grave as he tried to stop the quarrel. Those two men, as different as they were, had one trait in common – they were far too easily provoked. True, everyone in his own fashion, reacting in his own hot tempered and cold, sarcastic way, but once started, they would probably never stop until someone else ended it for them. Or until Mike awoke into the twins' respawn-room after his neck had been broken.

To Sydney's relief, Jean regained his countenance at once, and Mike shut up as well – or rather got shut up by the tentacle that wrapped itself over the twin's mouth.

Lukas and Gabe witnessed the scene in silent alarm – Gabe watching his twin closely, Lukas' nervously looking from Sydney to the Tentaspy and Mike and back at Sydney.

Tyler, however, didn't even try to hide his grin. If he was forced to stay in the same room with the twins, he might as well enjoy seeing Mike getting himself into trouble with Jean. That obnoxious twin could fight and yell as much as he wanted, Jean would always put him into his place.

He was so delighted by these little shows that he forgave Sydney for not agreeing with him that the best place for those idiots was six feet under.

However, things had calmed down again, more or less reluctantly, and Sydney cleared his throat.

“As I said before, the four of us will leave tomorrow and return two days later, in the evening. Lukas, I leave it to you to prepare our departure.”

Blushing behind his scarf, Lukas nodded and quickly rushed out of the room.

“Oh dear, I didn't mean immediately,” Sydney chuckled.

“Degrading our vice leader to your personal secretary obviously wasn't enough. Now he's your maid. What are you turning him into next? Your dog? Licking your shoes and...”

“Oh my, Jean!” Sydney laughed, wagging his finger at the Tentaspy. “Don't say such things in front of the boys!”

Jean snorted, while Tyler only let out a sighed “Geez..”.

“Father Sydney and his precious boys. I must say, mon ami, your parenting is abominable.”

“Don't say that, Jean.” Sydney's amused smile disappeared completely, which made his face look unusually serious. “I'm sure there are worse fathers than me.”

“Gawd, shut up already with that bullshit before I kill somebody!” Mike groaned, after finally wiggling himself free enough to be able to speak again.

“That would be a sight to behold under the circumstances,” Jean replied dryly, but he, too, dropped the topic.

“Well, Sydney. Was that all? If so, I'd like to return them to their cell.”

“Room, Jean. To their room,” he corrected him softly.

“Anyway, no that wasn't all, I have something else to inform you and Tyler about.

As you cannot accompany us, this liberates you from being in charge for the twins' safety.” Sydney smiled weakly when Jean and Tyler snorted in unison at the last words.

“So I thought I give you the next three days off completely. You deserve a little holiday for your hard work. Tyler,” he addressed the young man, “you've been overworking yourself lately. You have three days off, too.”

Sydney swallowed a chuckle when the Tentaspy reacted as he expected him to do – with a wide, delighted grin.

Tyler's reaction didn't surprise him as well – at first, the young man smiled with the same joy at the pleasant news, but that smile quickly turned into an embarrassed frown when Jean beamed at him, and one single tentacle slowly wiggled itself around one of Tyler's bare legs, showing no indication it would stop below the seam of the skirt.

“Tyler, my precious...”

“Don't even think I'll waste my holiday on you, squid!” Tyler shot back, already blushing at the soft tone of Jean's voice.

A sudden, cackling noise made him turn away from Jean's gaze at once.

“Yeah, Tyler, my precious baby-doll. How about a nice trip to the beach? Let's go fishing, you can use squid-boy as a bait. Know what? Grow a nice pair of tits and ya might be the queen of the beach! Oh no, I have a better idea!” Mike almost cried from laughing; Tyler's angry glare only urging him on.

“Take those pair of socks ya using to pimp ya pussy to cock-size out of ya pants, and shove them into yar bra! That should give ya at least an A-cup and make ya look less like a faggot!”

“You...!” Tyler clenched his hands into fists, his nails, albeit short, painfully digging into the skin. His jaws hurt from pressing his jaws together. He lacked Jean's cold, superior demeanor when being angry – his thoughts were racing, making it impossible for him to retort at once, which made him only angrier.

“Mike! Really, I'm... JEAN!” Sydney cried out in alarm when the tentacle around Mike's throat was pulled tighter. The twin's face was turning alarmingly blue.

“Mike!” yelled another voice - Gabe suddenly awoke from what always seemed like a daydream to the rest of the team. He fought against the Tentaspy's grip, trying to come to his brother's help, but Jean easily kept him under control.

“He'll wake up in his room any minute anyway, which is quite unfortunate,” Jean growled.

“It's a miracle how somebody with such a slow brain can come up with so much nonsense so quickly. Enough with this!” With an ugly snap, Mike's neck broke.

“Really, Jean...” Sydney sat down again, rubbing his temples, but the Tentaspy ignored him, flashing his teeth humorlessly at Gabe.

“As you like it. There you go, too. Don't say hello to your brother from me.” Hardly feeling anything when Gabe's teeth fiercely began to tear at the Tentaspy's thick skin, Jean quickly killed the second twin in the same fashion he had killed Mike – his neck snapped quickly and mercilessly. Jean let the two bodies drop to the floor where they disappeared after a few seconds.

“It is alright, Tyler. Do not be angry. You already are my queen,” Jean soothingly whispered, adding a second tentacle to pull the furious Scout into a loving embrace when one wasn't enough.

“Shut up, squid! Who are you calling a queen, you... you...! To hell with all of you!” Shoving Jean away, Tyler turned around and stomped out of Sydney's office.

“Tyler, mon ange! This way to walk is not very becoming! This outfit requires grace!” Quickly, the Tentaspy followed him.

Deserted by his team-mates, Sydney sighed as he looked at the still open door. He picked up the letter again and flinched.

“This isn't gonna be a jauntily trip, this is gonna be an adventure. Well!” Vigorously, he jumped up from his chair. On his way striding towards the door, he paused in front of the mirror hanging on the wall, smiling encouragingly at himself.

“Brighten up, handsome! Life is boring without a challenge now and then, isn't it? And now, off with you! Time to have a talk with that pair of rascals!”

* * *

Already in the morning, the next day had promised to be wonderful. A placid, bright blueness, untainted by clouds, and a soft yellow sun were all to behold whenever one would pause on their way to their everyday business and lift their head to the sky. It was still early in summer and albeit warm, the sun wasn't strong enough yet to burn plants and skin. A gentle breeze was refreshing for those spending their day in the city among other people, cars and fumes.

It was that kind of a day that left everyone cheerful even when they would stay inside their offices and stores for hours. With everyone in a good mood, people were and remained relaxed today, as long as nothing unexpected happened to dampen anybody's spirit.

At the rim of the city, where the industrial area started, only one of four people smiled as brightly as the sun when they entered a tall, grim building through the practical, but bare steel door.

One of the employers guided them through the corridors and into the lift, doing his best to keep a straight face and friendly eye contact with Sydney. Those not standing close to the small group were less tactful and looked and whispered once the four men walked past them.

They were a sight to behold. Many wondered if the uniform of the leader was even official. It resembled the classic Sniper uniform in many ways, but the cut could only be called inappropriate, and the pink color – did the Administrator know of this? Did she really agree with this?

And that skinny one in the blue suit, who was carrying two suitcases? The bit of his face that was visible looked so pale, was he alright? He wore the classic clothes of a Spy, but who had ever heard of a Spy whose eyes were nervously twitching while he stared to the floor?

Twins always and easily drew attention, but those – they looked amazingly alike, but one's expression was grim and sullen, the other, was he even aware of his surroundings? He looked like he was walking in his sleep.

Some of the employers suddenly realized who those strange visitors must be. There had been rumors about a pair of twins, mental and so dangerous and violent they had to be restrained twenty-four-seven.

What a waste, with handsome faces like that, as some of the women around couldn't help stating with a giggle. But there was no doubt – if they had to be led around with their wrists and ankles cuffed so they could hardly make normal steps, then there was a reason.

The Administrator was rarely a risk taker.

So these were obviously members of the support team– Team King.

However, while that realization alone explained a lot, one thing still didn't make sense.

Why on earth were all four of them dripping wet, from head to toe?

*

“Why on earth are all of you dripping wet?” asked a disapproving Administrator only a few minutes later, when the carpet under the feet her for visitors turned darker and darker.

“No, don't tell me!” She raised a hand, stopping Sydney when he opened his mouth.

“Judging from the faces of those two and your assistant, I don't want to know.”

“Too bad, it is a funny story,” Sydney replied, his mood unperturbed by her stern face.

“But where are my manners. Thank you for the invitation. May I say you look fabulous today? I just love the shade of your blazer. Be an angel and share the secret with me - where did you buy it?”

“Sydney...” groaned Lukas, rolling his eyes in a very similar way as Mike next to him. Gabe's gaze rested on the Administrator, calmly waiting for a reaction.

“I didn't invite you to a tea party, to discuss fashion and movie stars, Cindy.”

“Sydney,” he corrected her, skeptically raising his eyebrows when Mike gave a subdued snort. If that already amused the twin, Sydney mused, he would laugh until he squirmed from stitches if he knew about other names she had called Sydney whenever she was annoyed being called “angel” or “baby”.

“Whatever.” She waved her hand in disinterest, but not without a lightly amused smile. “Enough with the exchange of courtesies. We'll get down to business as soon as you have changed. If you ruin my carpet any further, it will turn into a swamp. Miss Pauling,” she picked up the receiver of her phone, talking to her secretary.

“Send the boys in.

Sydney, you and your assistant can use one of the empty offices. Ah, there you are,” she greeted the two new visitors – two tall grown men in black suits, with broad shoulders and serious faces. Both where holding machine guns. They didn't look like they would hesitate to use them.

'They don't look like they'd even need to use them,' Sydney thought by himself, swaying between suspicion and delight as he noticed their strong arms and hands.

“Look, Cindy is already undressing them with his eyes,” Mike whispered not too lowly to his brother, smirking and sticking out his tongue when Sydney turned towards him.

“Oh, if this isn't Michael,” the Administrator cut off any argument before it could even start. “If it wasn't already so easy to tell you apart from your facial expressions, it would only need you to open your mouth to reveal who is who.” Now she was the one smirking when the twin glared at her.

“I'm surprised to see you so quiet, and already wondered if you are sick or if Sydney finally managed to teach you a few manners. But frankly,” she shrugged, picking up and opening a leather-covered cigarette case.

“I doubt the latter will ever happen. Anyway!” She lit up the cigarette and nodded at the two bodyguards.

“Lead the twins to the security room and remove the furniture. Guard them until they are done and guide them back here. I will not tolerate any incidents!

The security room,” she addressed Sydney again, “is usually for interviews with very special guests. It's basically a vault that can only be opened from outside. Without dynamite nobody will leave it until I allow it. Once the table and the chairs are removed, even they,” she nodded at the twins, “won't find any opportunity for one of their little escape scenes. But Mike!” She leaned back and studied the twin's growling face. “I must say, I'm really impressed. No yelling, no tantrums. I really hope you are well.” She gave a chuckle.

The uneasy glance Sydney and Lukas exchanged didn't escape her attention. All four soaked. They were almost late and even if Mike was, as usual, as easy to read as an open book, he didn't seem to be up to his best. Or, in his case, rather worst. She was certain, if she would check the twin's throat or arm, she would find a tiny red spot, as if a needle had shortly been injected.

“Is it a strong dose, Sydney?” If she needed any more proof to confirm her assumption – seeing Sydney giving a start with that guilty smile was more than enough.

“No, no! Not at all! Just something to calm him done and block his... uh... I would have to ask Martin... something about anger and...”

“That will do,” she interrupted him, satisfied with Sydney's answer. He wasn't a good liar, if he had told her the untruth, his too-honest-for-his-own-good face would have given him away.

“As long as he is back to his true self soon, everything will be fine. And remove their restraints, I need them with their hands and legs free.”

“Ugh! I don't even wanna know what the filthy hag wants us for.”

“Good boy, Mike, good boy. Keep recovering. But no shenanigans! My men know where to hide bodies. Now, go!” she dismissed them.

*

“Mike, I'm really sorry, but you know that you didn't leave us any choice,” Sydney apologized as soon as they were out of the office and on their way to the security room. The two guards where right behind them, their guns pointed at the twins' heads.

“Shut up,” the twin growled, trying to shake off Sydney's hand from his shoulder.

“But you know,” Sydney continued, “it really was dangerous, to jump into the river. After pushing your brother into it. You really have to think before you act. Dear, you cannot swim with your hands behind the back and with the shackles. If we hadn't jumped after you right away, both of you would have drowned!”

“Whatever.” Mike followed Gabe into the next room once one of their guards had opened the heavy steel door. He gave his brother a rough nudge with his shoulder, but Gabe didn't even turn around.

“Don't be so slow, dumbass.” He pulled a face at his twin's back. The drug Sydney – or was it Lukas? It didn't matter, both assholes were in that! - had given him was finally wearing off for good. Mike hated it when they sedated them, but he especially loathed that special kind of drug that seemed to only block a part of his brain while leaving him fully conscious.

He could only hope that they wouldn't find a way to remove the side-effects, or those idiots would flood his blood the whole day with that stuff, he was sure of that!

“Anybody home?” Mike stood right behind Gabe when he stopped, kicking the back of his brother's foot.

“Great, there we go again. WHAT?”

He turned around when Sydney suddenly started to laugh.

“What?!” Mike snapped again, but Sydney kept staring into the opened suitcase Lukas was holding, shaking with laughter. The two guards, who had just finished removing the few pieces of furniture from the room, eyed them suspiciously, but didn't say a word.

“Oh God! I'm sorry, Sydney! He had asked me if he could help me preparing for the trip, so I left packing the twins' clothes to Tyler. If I had known... no, it was my job, I...”

“It's okay, my dear, it's okay.” Sydney was still chuckling, but tried to control himself when he saw his assistant's unhappy face.

“But Tyler offering his help so unselfishly should have warned you that something was up. Well, you don't happen to have additional clothes with you?”

“No, only a second suit. Should I give it...” Lukas sighed with relief when Sydney shook his head.

“WHAT are you talking about?!” Mike stumbled towards the two men, almost falling over his own feet; the chain between his ankles was too short for the large steps he made. Gabe followed him, more calmly. The only sign that betrayed his curiosity was his slightly tilted head.

Mike took a look into the suitcase, his face growing pale.

“This is a joke.”

“I'm afraid not.” With an apologizing smile, Sydney took one shirt, holding it up. Instead of a classic, black shirt, it was short and white. With a big, dark blue collar, blue stripes and a big, red bow – one of Tyler's tips that ended right under his chest.

“Forget it!” His face flinching in disgust, Mike jumped backwards, tumbling against his brother.

“There's also a blue skirt.” Not paying attention to the twin's protest, Sydney was again rummaging through the suitcase. “Oh, this is one of Jean's!” He held up a blouse. The end of its sleeves were adorned with frills.

“No second skirt or a pair of pants though. But don't worry, I've brought two, you can have one of mine. Lukas, be a dear and give me the dark blue pair.” Sydney took the outfits from the case. Lukas closed it, opened the second one. He removed the one Sydney had told him to and put it on the pile of clothes in his boss' hand. He questioningly looked at Sydney, who only nodded. With a sigh, Lukas took a key from his pocked and began to remove the twins' chains.

Before one of them could twitch, the two guards pressed the end of their guns against their heads.

“Be good, remember, here's no respawn, my dears.” With an encouraging smile, Sydney pushed the clothes into Mike arms.

“There is only one pair of, well, drawers. From Tyler.”

“No way! Nobody's gonna wear something like that!”

“But I also have a spare pair, if you want... okay, you don't,” Sydney concluded from Mike's expression. “How about you, Gabe?”

“NO! Nothing even close to ya freaking dick is gonna touch him! Forget it!” Mike flared up, ready to jump at Sydney, but the tight grip of the large hand of one of the guards held him back.

“Now, now,” Sydney hushed, hiding a smile – in a bitter way, Mike's overprotectiveness of his brother was adorable to him.

“Anyway, please hurry. Mike, Gabe.” His smile suddenly disappeared and his face became worried.

“I beg you. For your own sake. I really want to take you home again with me. The alternative is, I'm afraid, “ he looked at the two bulky men standing left and right from the twins.

“Death.”

With that, he and Lukas, followed by the guards, left the twins to themselves, hoping for the best. The door was closed and locked tightly.

*

“Assholes! Assholes and faggots, all of them!” Mike dropped the clothes to the ground, as if they had suddenly turned into blazing hot coals.

With his usual, indifferent gaze, Gabe picked Jean's shirt up, carefully pulling at the lacy ruffles.

“Dammit, there's really nothing.” Mike began to search the room for anything he might use as a weapon, but the Administrator was right. It really was like a vault, and without the furniture, nothing was left than white, smooth walls, the only way out the shut door.

“Steel. No lock to pick, no screw, nothing. Not that we've something with us we could use. Gabe! Put that thing away. WHAT are you doing!” At his word, Gabe let the blouse glide to the floor and, to a flabbergasted Mike's surprise, pulled the black, soaked t-shirt over his head.

“Ya... ya ain't serious, are ya? Hey! Who said YOU can have THAT outfit! I'll wear it! Give it to me!” Mike tackled his twin, but Gabe had expected something like that. He hardly swayed, and pushed his brother away.

“Are ya stupid? Oh! Oh no! I know that face! Forget it!” Mike snarled when he noticed a certain, gleeful twinkle in his brother's eyes, and the discomforting smirk that told him he had already lost.

“You can wear that,” Gabe stated, pointing at the skirt and the sailor top.

“I'm not gonna die from a bit of water. Who says I cannot keep my clothes on?” Mike argued.

“I do.” Only wearing his underwear, the fabric as soaked with the cold water of the river as the rest of his clothes, Gabe walked up to his brother.

“Hey, if ya have something naughty in mind, ya know I'm always on ya side,” Mike growled with a pleased smile, the fingers of his right hand playfully tapping against the old scar on his twin's shoulder.

“No.” Gabe brushed Mike's hands off and, before Mike could react, grabbed the collar of Mike's shirt. With one abrupt move, he tore the shirt apart.

“Are you insane?!” Mike shouted, leaping at his brother. But today, Gabe didn't let him fool around with him. He clawed his hands into Mike's shoulders and, not holding back his strength, pushed him down, pinning him to the floor and straddling him.

Holding Mike down with an iron grip, he slowly bent down, until their lips almost touched. Just like he had guessed it, Mike's struggle became weaker, as he anticipated what Gabe might do next.

Gabe grinned. It didn't take a genius to tell what Mike was hoping for.

“You know I'm stronger. There's no respawn, so you have to kill me if you want to win.” One hand let go of the shoulder, leaving red marks where the fingers had dug into the skin.

“You are cold.” With gentle pressure, the fingers wrapped around Mike's throat, the thump caressing the indeed cold skin.

“You'll undress, and you'll wear the skirt.”

“I can always go naked, do you think I care?” Mike's sharp reply turned into a hiss when the pressure around his throat became stronger. Gabe's smile grew wider.

“Even when we find a way to escape?”

“Even then.” Mike remained stubborn. His brother's wicked grin told him that his options were to give in or die or to kill Gabe, if the guards weren't faster. The grip loosened and he could breath easier. He enjoyed the game, regretting they probably didn't have much time.

“He will like it. Sydney,” Gabe added slyly when Mike was confused. “You always say you look good, and that he is a fag. He will like to see you naked. He will try to seduce you.”

“Okay, okay! You win! I give up!” Mike cried out in disgust. He brushed Gabe's hand away when his brother offered to help him standing up.

Flinching, he picked up the white, lacy lingerie Tyler had packed for them.

“But I'm not gonna... okay! Alright! Whatever! I will do it,” he hurried to say when he saw his twin's face. “God, I hate ya.” Grumbling to himself, Mike began to unbutton and pull down his pants.

“Seriously, Gabe. Can't ya just smash me in the face when ya pissed because I pushed ya into the river?”

*

Even Sydney, though his optimistic nature rarely allowed him to be worried or ruffled about anything, was aware that the Administrator herself rarely summoned anyone without a good reason. More often than rarely bad news had to be expected when she wanted to see some one, especially when on a short notice.

Yet, being of a positive disposition as always, Sydney had refused from the beginning to expect the worst, and instead to be open for surprises of all kinds.

However, even Sydney, who himself was the root of those surprises of all kinds on a regular base, would never have expected today's appointment with the Administrator to offer him so much delight, starting with the moment when he had opened the twins' suitcase.

When the Administrator's guards opened the door to 'the vault' again, Sydney held his breath. He grabbed Lukas by the shoulder, the grip of his hand becoming firmer with every second he fought the impulse to burst with laughter. Before the day was over, the skin beneath Lukas' suit would show purple bruises, shaped like Sydney's fingers.

He couldn't tell what exactly it was that made it so hard for him to keep his composure.

In front of him stood the twins, to his relief still alive and healthy. Mostly healthy - he spotted a few reminders of a struggle at once; he could imagine that it took more than a word or two to convince Mike to put on Tyler's clothes.

It was astonishing how cute Tyler had looked in this outfit the last time he wore it.

And how hilarious it was on Mike.

To say it was revealing covered only half of the truth.

By himself, Sydney couldn't help but noting that Mike didn't have to be ashamed of his body, well, which he wasn't, as Sydney knew. However, he wouldn't complain if the twins would decide to show more of their fine, strong legs and firm, very well-toned abdominal muscles.

So a crop top, no matter what style, was, in Sydney's opinion, quite appealing in the twin's case.

'With this delicious stomach, nobody would care much about the top anyway,' Sydney mused, allowing himself an appreciating smile, unaware how close Gabe had been to the truth when he finally 'convinced' his brother to put on a skirt instead of nothing. Sydney would never overstep the twins' boundaries, but he wasn't blind, and he would have been a liar if he didn't admit he found the pair too handsome to ignore their physical appearance.

However, in this particular case it was impossible to ignore the clothes.

Meant to be revealing in the first place, they were tailor-made for a smaller man of slim build. Mike was a few inches taller than Tyler, with wider shoulders and a more muscular frame.

Everything of that outfit was too small for him.

The top stretched tightly over his back and chest, leaving Sydney wondering if the ribbon that held the shirt closed and in place would simply be torn in half when Mike only inhaled too deeply.

The cuffs of the sleeves fitted comfortably around Tyler's slender arms, but seemed to cut into Mike's. That the top revealed even more of the chest than it would have had if it were of the right size, was a plus in Sydney's book.

As all of Tyler's clothes, the fabric was expensive, the design delicate and pretty. The navy blue skirt was lovely to behold. So were Mike's strong, masculine legs.

But the combination of a skirt that was cute as well as it was elegant with two long, hairy legs were almost too much for Sydney. Tyler's knee-highs on those legs didn't help at all; they weren't made for thewed calves and a few minutes had been enough for the fabric to be overstretched.

Soon the socks would be so baggy they would hang loosely around Mike's ankles.

As for the skirt itself – it was too small, the upper button couldn't even be closed, and the other two looked like they'd snap any moment.

'Gabe, I'm dying to know how you got him to agree to this!' It didn't take much imagination or an expert of the human nature to guess that Mike wasn't happy about his appearance at all.

The sight alone was incredibly amusing, but maybe it wouldn't have been so hilarious without Gabe, who stood upright, self-satisfied and calm beside his irritated, cursing twin. Since Sydney had known them, they were either wearing casual pants and shirts or the altered uniforms of Scouts.

Although Sydney was of a leaner build than the twins, him being taller evened the proportions out. So the pants were a bit too long, but fitted the legs and waist quite well, and so did Jean's part of the outfit.

Even with Gabe's hair being the usual, tousled mess, the clothes gave him an air of superior elegance, and the twin's smug grin added to it.

The torrent of insults and threats coming from the comparatively comical figure by his side bounced off of Gabe, only resulting in an amused twitching of the corners of Gabe's mouth. It was obvious how the whole situation delighted the so stoic twin, who usually was so withdrawn from his surroundings that Sydney sometimes wondered if Gabe's mind was present at all. But this very moment, Gabe was very aware of the situation, and he was obviously enjoying every second of it.

Mike's current state of mind and appearance was funny, true, but it was the contrast in their attitudes how they coped with the circumstances that made Sydney want to laugh so hard until his sides would hurt.

“Oh my God! She'll be furious!” whispered Lukas. The tone of his assistant's voice, and the fact that he trembled, told Sydney that Lukas didn't thought the whole situation to be very funny.

“She? SHE?!” Mike stopped ranting at his brother for a moment and snapped at Sydney and Lukas.

“I AM furious! Better worry about that, ya idiots! I swear, when I get that freaking asshole between my fingers, I'll beat him to death! I'll break every single fucking bone! I'll pulverize him! Turn him into fish food and feed him to that ugly jellyfish! I'll... And YOU are next!” A snicker coming from his right brought his attention back to Gabe who was watching him with a grin that Sydney could only describe as delightfully wicked.

'What a pair!' Sydney took a deep breath and put on a friendly smile – without betraying too much of his amusement, as he hoped.

“Come, boys. It wouldn't be very polite to let our host wait for too long, would it?”

*

Their host was already on the verge of losing her patience with her guests, but when they finally stepped – or in Mikes case rather stomped – into her office, she abandoned her intention to address them with a few sharp remarks. Instead she only raised her eyebrows.

“Sydney King,” her voice cut through Mike's ongoing mumbled rants, while her eyes rested on the unusual sight.

“I know you well enough to expect the most hideous antics whenever you are involved. So please just tell me which question I should ask – 'how much will it cost the company this time?' or 'can we pretend nothing happened and go on with the matters at hand?'”

“Well, my dear, don't worry.” Not ruffled at all, Sydney made a quick bow, smiling reassuringly at her.

“There's no harm done at all. However, it's a quite amusing story. You know, yesterday, Mike and Tyler had...”

“So it's question number two, thank you.” The Administrator raised her hand, cutting Sydney's explanation off before he got lost in another lengthy, crazy story she was sure she better didn't know more about if she wanted to keep her patience.

“Boyd!” With her boney hand, she waved for one of the guards.

Tall and darkly dressed like his co-workers, with a suspicious, black suitcase in his hand, he stepped forward from his spot next to the door where he had been standing unnoticed by Sydney, Lukas and the twins.

All four of them started in surprise when he suddenly moved, Lukas and Mike with a violent jump. Sydney – who, as it can only be stated again, wasn't easily shaken – abruptly turned his head, following the humanoid bear with watchful eyes. Gabe stopped glancing at his brother, raising his eyebrows.

“Apply the device now.” At her order, the guard called Boyd put the suitcase to the floor in front of the twins, snapping it open.

“No, forget it! Stay away!” Mike hissed. He has already forgotten about the last incidents and his loathed attire when Boyd took something looking like another shackle out of the suitcase and moved towards Gabe.

“Stay away with that shit! Lay one finger on us and you'll regret it!” Stretching the buttons and the ribbon to their limits, Mike breathed in deeply and straightened his back as he stepped between his brother and the guard.

'Puffing himself up like a cornered animal, protecting its offspring. Or mate.' Sydney smiled weakly at the image popping up in his mind. However, from his perspective, he was as alerted as Mike. Gabe's suddenly wary expression and Mike's angry scoffing while he began to shove his brother and himself back to the door – one wrong move or word, and the situation would escalate.

“Helen!” Sydney cried out, turning towards the Administrator when the two guards who had come back with them into the office seized both twins by there arms. Mike's yelp of pain alarmed him as much as the way how Gabe's expression suddenly went blank, his whole body stiffening.

“Sydney, mind your manners!” Despite the rebuke, she remained at ease as she watched the show of the opposite side of her desk.

“But...!”

“It's already over. Good work, Boyd.” At the sound of two quick, consecutive clicks, she gave the guard a nod of approval. He took it as a sign to leave, but not without handing her two small, rectangular boxes, each about the size of a cigarettes pack.

As suddenly as the tension had upraised, it was over.

Sydney and Lukas were taking turns glancing at the Administrator and at the twins, as feeling as puzzled by the whole situation as Mike looked.

With Boyd gone and the other two guards letting go of them and stepping back, Mike's aggressive stance and Gabe's highly alerted, wide eyes looked so out of place, that Sydney's smile quickly returned.

The only things changed from before the intermezzo was that each twin now wore a new, plain shackle around the right ankle. They were so plain and simple, they reminded more of a decorative, metallic bracelet than of a real tool of restraint.

“Hele-, sorry!” Sydney cleared his throat when she shot a warning glare at him.

“I mean, Miss Administrator, may I ask what the meaning of all this is?”

“This, everyone, is the reason why you are all here today,” she opened her explanation, holding one of the small objects up. Now, without a commotion about a pair of twins on the edge of snapping to distract him, Sydney clearly identified it as some kind of remote control.

“This is a new kind of ankle monitor. The device itself is almost completed, just lacking a final test with real humans who show real reactions. Scientists tend to be too cautious when it comes to security and accident prevention.”

Her placid attitude didn't match well with the last part of her instruction, at least not in Sydney's opinion, feeling an uncomfortable uneasiness dwelling up in spite of himself. But he didn't object when she gave him and Lukas a sign to have a closer look at the remote controls.

“I'll explain you the details any minute, but first, allow me a quick demonstration.

Barclay, Murdock! You can leave now. You, gentlemen,” she commanded Sydney and Lukas, “you stay here and listen.”

“Is that really, well, safe?” Nervously, Lukas looked at his boss, his voice worried and low.

“I mean, because without the guards, and us...”

“Idiots!” Mike burst out laughing the moment the door fell shut behind the guards.

“Come on, dumbass, don't make me pull ya!”

Mike ignored the reluctance of his brother when he dragged Gabe with him, storming towards the door.

“Goodbye, motherfuckers!” He tore the door open, giving Gabe a push when his twin moved too slowly for his liking.

“Geez, what's wrong with ya, we're almost... GABE!” Mike shouted.

In front of his eyes, his brother suddenly twitched, and, with a hoarse groan of pain, collapsed.

“Gabe!” Sydney and Lukas cried out in unison, watching in horror how Mike caught the lifeless body of his twin only a few inches before he crashed to the floor.

“Get away from him! What's the matter? Wake up! Come on, ya stupid crybaby, say something!” The two man rushed to the pair, kneeling down next to Mike, who was cursing and begging his brother while shaking him.

“Don't worry, gentlemen. He will recover quickly. By now - “ She checked her watch. “By now, his awareness of his surroundings should have returned. He'll be able to hear and see again any moment, albeit not move. Now come back and listen closely. Mike, I advice you to stay where you are. For every wrong move you make, your brother will feel the consequences.”

Mike's face grew pale. Although Sydney believed to feel the temperature in the room rising from the heat of Mike's rage, he thought he saw something in the young man's eyes – one of those dark shadows only cruel memories brought with them – that stirred a wish in him to put a comforting hand on the twin's shoulder.

“Don't worry. Just look after him, he'll be fine.” In the past, Sydney was forced to learn that most of his well-meant gestures often made things worse, especially when this white, blinding hate was about to overwhelm Mike, who looked so grotesquely forlorn with his outfit. So he contented himself with a few reassuring words, relieved when the color returned to Gabe's face and his gaze began to focus – although very slowly – behind fluttering eyelids.

'One can only wonder how many more dark things we still don't know about are buried behind those bright eyes, if they make your brother call you of all people a crybaby.' With a sigh, Sydney stood up and returned, together with Lukas, to the Administrator's desk.

“Do I have your undivided attention now? Good.” The gruff frown disappeared from her face when Sydney and Lukas finally stood next to her, focusing on the object in her hand.

“This remote controls, as you certainly have concluded by now, the bracelets. The information sent from the chip inside the bands transmits the distance between the two devices.

The idea is to program it with the distance you want to allow. In this case, I'd recommend a radius of 300 meter – or round about a fifth of a mile if you prefer.

Here -” She pointed at one of the switches.

“Here you set the force of the impulse of the electrical shock that will be triggered the moment they leave the radius. It automatically sends either a painful warning, a paralyzing or a lethal shock into the wearer's nervous system. You've just witnessed the second option.

If you use this button, you can trigger the same shocks at will anytime. The dot on the display monitors the position of the bracelet.

This one controls Gabriel's device.” She handed one of the remotes to Lukas.

“And this one is for Michael's. Have you understood how this works or do I have to explain this again for you?”

Sydney accepted the offered remote with a nod, his brain thinking quickly behind his furrowed forehead.

“I won't question your motives, but why testing them on the twins?” he asked, setting the automatic shock to 'warning'.

“You better set them to 'lethal' as well,” he advised Lukas, winking imploringly. Blushing under the intense, meaningful stare, Lukas understood the message and hurried to set the switch back again from lethal to warning.

The Administrator didn't comment on this quick exchange.

“As I've said before, scientists are too concerned about safety measurements. Plus, none of them has it in them to really put the device on a test, like, trespassing the limits on purpose with another setting than 'warning'.

I have, however, no doubt that any defiant move of your two pet lunatics will be genuine, and therefore result into actually useable data for my researchers. Gentlemen, this would be a good moment to start the test,” she ordered firmly when Mike spat on the floor at the words pet and lunatics.

“I'm sorry, honey.” Sydney smiled helplessly, lightly pressing the button labeled 'warning'.

“Ouch, ASSHOLE!” Mike pressed his teeth together when a sudden pain flashed from his ankle all up his spine.

“Almost perfect,” the Administrator praised Sydney.

“Just one more thing! Or rather – an advice. In the case of the twins it will be more effective to punish the brother instead of the one causing the trouble, like you've seen me doing it before. Otherwise I doubt that both of our dear twins would be so tame with the push of only one button.”

“Damn you, fucking bitch,” Mike growled, pressing his twin closer against his chest. Gabe, still paralyzed, groaned an unarticulated answer, sounding more like a wounded animal than coming from a human being.

“Now, please leave, and enjoy the day. You can use the couch in the corridor until he can walk again. Go outside, move around freely and use the device after your own judgment. Ah! And no drugs! I want them to behave naturally. That's all. I'll expect you and your report tomorrow, 3pm sharp!”

*

“Gabe, dear, are you really alright? Are you sure you rested enough? My, I'm glad!” Sydney gave a sigh of relief when the twin actually answered in form of a small nod.

After lying still for more than 20 minutes, Gabe's legs were still slightly shaky, but at least, by the time they left the building, the uncontrollable twitching of his fingers and eyelids had finally stopped, and he could walk again without the support of his brother.

In their worry about the younger twin, they had forgotten about the extraordinary circumstances, even Mike hadn't cared anymore about his attire. During Gabe's rest, he had been too busy with hissing at Sydney and Lukas whenever they came too close to his brother for his liking, and with taking turns at ranting at Gabe and imploring him to finally come round.

As they returned to the foyer on their way outside, Mike failed to notice the bewildered stares and the snickers and giggles as well as the fact that he was the cause of it. He was too focused on keeping his twin in an upright position, while eying the remote controls in Sydney's and Lukas' hands with suspicion and sheer repulsion.

“Please understand, darlings, that I don't want to use it,” Sydney had told them after Gabe had finally been able to sit up again.

“I'm happy for you that you have the opportunity to move freely, without restraints,” he had continued with a open, friendly smile.

“If the Administrator is satisfied with the results we deliver, I sincerely hope we won't have to lock you up and to put you in handcuffs all the time. So, please, don't mess this up. Don't give us a reason to use it. Well then, Gabe, I think a bit of fresh air would be good for you, and there's a park close by. Can you stand up?”

With sure steps and happily chatting along, Sydney led the small group through a handful of streets. Lukas was the only one answering him at least once in a while, with not much more than a word or two of agreement and an occasional, helpless and mortified “Sydney...”.

The twins, however, remained silent, even among themselves.

But with a cheerful sun high up the blue sky and his two precious problem children being well and healthy while walking unhindered next to him, Sydney's worries had vanished completely and he was back to his usual, merry mood.

For once, everything felt unusually peaceful and easy, and as long as he didn't have to use one of the powerful buttons at hand, he saw no reason why they shouldn't enjoy the illusion of normality.

'As far as the term 'normality' applies to the pair, even when there doesn't seem to be the risk they would snap any moment.' Sydney found it difficult to hide his chuckles whenever he glanced at Mike, whose wide steps and his way to scratch his stomach or his behind didn't go well with his clothes at all. When Jean had thought it necessary to remind Tyler how to move, then Sydney was certain it was a good thing Jean didn't see one of his favorite outfits for Tyler being worn in this – Sydney had to admit it – very ungraceful manner.

Past noon, in the middle of the week, the park wasn't overrun with people, despite the bright and warm weather.

Only a few students and those enjoying a free day or a late lunch break strolled over a clean, wound gravel path, along lush and neatly cut meadows, adorned by trimmed shrubbery. Willows and aspen trees were scattered over the lawn, tall and dignified sources of shade. A pair of children knelt so close to the crystal clear water of the a lake that a worried mother hoped they wouldn't fall in. A group of ducks only too willingly interrupted their swim for a few crumbs of bread.

“God, what a pair of fags! Geez, can they just stop being embarrassing?” Mike rolled his eyes when Sydney stopped and pointed at the lake, delighted by the scenery and the playing children. A hand suddenly placed on Mike's shoulder made him start.

“Mike.” Gabe moved closer to his brother's ear, whispering lowly, so only Mike would hear him.

“What is it? Do ya have to startle me like that?”

Instead of answering, Gabe gave the red bow of Mike's top a playful tug. Mike looked down at Gabe's hand. His mind worked and he slowly remembered he wasn’t wearing his usual pants and shirt.

Suddenly, he jumped backwards. Holding his arms away from his body and flinching, he looked so aghast, like he had just touched something disgusting, that Sydney couldn't hold back this time. He laughed heartily, and the smirk from before appeared again on Gabe's face. Even into Lukas' otherwise worried eyes stole a hint of amusement.

“Mike, darling, calm down. You look... charming.” Even Sydney couldn't say that with a straight face, but this time, Lukas took a precautious step to the side before Sydney would squash his assistant's shoulder again.

“Shut up! And you, stop looking at me like that! And you!” Mike's head flew from one side to the other, glowering at the other visitors of the park. Naturally, his loud voice and Sydney's laughter caught their attention. Before, bystanders only dared to cast a few quick glances from the side, but the sudden commotion was an invitation to stare.

Mike would have loved to leap at either Sydney or at the little crowd that was already assembling around them and beat the lights out of the first one he would get hold of. But when he registered a shaky movement from the corner of his eye that turned out to be Lukas raising the remote connected to Gabe's electronic tag, Mike contented himself with growling at Sydney, his hands clenched to fists.

“Fuck it! I'm outta here!” Grinding his teeth, he turned around and stomped off the path.

“Mike!” Sydney called after him in alarm when he set his foot onto the soft grass of the lawn.

“Don't! The radius is only-”

“Oh gawd, don't wet ya pants, ya pussy. I just want some shadow, 'kay?” He walked up to a splendid willow. High grown and the branches heavy with countless leaves, the tree's hanging crown shielded him from the sun and the curious looks of most people around.

“See? Now go, fuck yer ducks and leave me alone.” With a deep frown and his arms crossed in front of his chest, he leaned with his shoulder against the tree's trunk, glaring at the remaining trio. Gabe's smirk widened, and without looking at Sydney or Lukas, he followed his brother.

“Alright, my dears.” Indulgently, with a soft smile, Sydney shook his head.

“I understand. We'll stay here for a while. Just don't forget, well, you know.” He pointed at the remote in his other hand, then he gave Lukas a nudge, grinning like a boy.

“Come, Lukas, let's ask the little darlings if we can join them!” Dragging his assistant with him, Sydney strode straightly towards the lake.

“Geez, can you believe them? Fags! I swear, if it weren't for those fucking shackles, I'd drown them.” Mike spat, pulling a grimace as he watched how the two men joined the children, who already giggled and laughed at Sydney's ready stream of jokes and stories.

“Like me.”

“Eh? Hey, what are you doing?!” Mike was so absorbed in his rants that he hadn't noticed that Gabe had sneaked behind him. Two hands were placed on his hip, slowly gliding over his bare waist.

“Because of you, I almost drowned,” Gabe breathed into his twin's ear, the dangerously low voice sending a shiver down Mike's spine. With a firm grip, he hindered Mike's attempt to turn around.

“If you move, I'll run. Remember the advice the old woman gave them. I'll run and attack the first person I see – they'll attack you.”

“Sick bastard,” Mike growled, forcing himself to stare at the lake. He doubted that Sydney would use the device to kill them, he considered him to be too much of a wimp; besides that, they were reckless and not scared of pain, but neither Gabe nor Mike were in a rush to die.

But he clearly had the image of Gabe in his mind, the twitching, the dazed eyes. Even if those idiots didn't kill them, being stunned wasn't a state he was wishing for.

“You couldn't shut up yesterday. You know I can't swim, even without handcuffs. You should have known it was a trap from that woman,” Gabe continued, loosing his grip and letting his hands again wander over Mike's waist and firm abs.

“Because of you, in less than 24 hours, I got my neck snapped. I almost drowned and I got paralyzed. All because of you,” he repeated.

The monotonous tone of Gabe's voice didn't deceive Mike – his twin wasn't half as indifferent about the incidents as he might appear to those who didn't know him well.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry about that.” Mike shrugged, decidedly disinterested.

“But seriously, are ya growing soft? There's the respawn in that forsaken base, those idiots were around when I pushed ya into the river, and if that hag wanted to kill us, she would have done so earlier. It was all... calculated! No reason to bear a grudge like a crybaby!” He made a snort as he brushed his brother's reproaches off in his usual defiant manner.

As if he was pleased about the outcomes! As if he hadn't been worried, even scared to death for a moment when he remembered his brother's fear of water or when he lay limp as a doll in his arms in the Administrator's office.

As if Mike would ever admit that.

“Stop being petty about minor matters.” He faked a yawn. Of course Gabe wouldn't be satisfied with his reaction, he was aware of that, and he knew his brother well enough to guess that his indifference was likely to provoke him even more. A sense of wickedness of his own began to raise inside of him, awakened by his curiosity about what was going on in Gabe's mind. Whatever it was, it couldn't be worse than making him wear these horrible clothes, and without respawn, being killed was ruled out.

But if Gabe thought he would yield easily, he was thoroughly mistaken!

“If ya think putting me into a skirt makes me apologize to ya – forget it!” Despite the growl, he leaned backwards, until his back rested against his twin's chest. Gabe's fingertips ran over his skin, shoving the edge of the top a bit higher.

“Pretty lame revenge, if ya asked me.” Closing his eyes, Mike sighed, tapping impatiently with one feet on the ground. So far, the worst was that Gabe wouldn't let him turn around. In the shade of the willow, the grass was soft and cold under his feet. Dragging Gabe down and paying him back for the ripped shirt – Mike grinned at the image forming in his head.

“Freaking lame,” he repeated, giving a sudden gasp at the sharp pain when Gabe bit him in the neck, his teeth playfully tearing at the skin. One hand was moving down, where the skirt covered Mike's groin.

“Don't say that fucking skirt turns ya on! Sicko!”

“It doesn't. But it turns you on.” Still nibbling at Mike's throat, Gabe hissed through his teeth. As if he wanted to proof his point, his fingertips tapped against the hard-on he felt under the fabric of the skirt.

“Shut up, it doesn't!”

“So it's because of me.” Gabe chuckled as Mike pressed closer against his body. His lips moved along Mike's throat, up to his ear, giving a low laugh at the hiss that followed when he bit into the soft lobe.

“Ya wish! You're as hot as... as something frozen...” A shudder betrayed his words, as did another gasp when Gabe shoved his hand under the skirt.

“I see.” Still pressing his second arm around Mike's chest, he held him in place when his brother began to squirm under his touch. Through the revealing lace of the lingerie, he could feel Mike's warm skin. Delicate as it had looked earlier when Mike had put it on, the fabric was surprisingly resistant and barely yielded to the pressure of the growing erection it restrained. Gabe felt how the thin threads already cut into skin.

“It does turns you on.” He let his nails scratch over the shaft. A low growl was the answer when he reached the sensitive head. As soon as he touched it, his fingertips were covered with a warm liquid.

“You are already leaking.”

“Bullshit. Don't think I give a fuck just 'cause even you can't keep ya cool around me.” He shoved himself closer against his brother, smirking as he felt a promising hardness pressing against his lower back. But his chuckle turned into a groan when Gabe's hand was firmly wrapped around his dick, the lingerie rough between the skin and the fingers.

“Damn, ya freaking bastard!” With a long sigh, he now leaned back completely into Gabe's arms, his own hands reaching back, searching for his brother's hips.

“I should push ya down into the grass and fuck you senseless. Don't think wearing that bullshit stops me from anything.” Tilting his head, Mike growled against his twin's cheek, turning around a bit more to find his lips for a kiss.

Gabe's hand shot up, seizing Mike by his chin, abruptly turning his head forward.

“They stop you.” Holding Mike's face with a merciless grip, Gabe chuckled. A quick, sharp bite into the same spot of Mike's throat at the same second his thumb firmly rubbed over the leaking tip was rewarded with a hiss and a helpless shudder.

“Keep your eyes open, look at them.” Gabe chuckled again, feeling Mike tensing. So he had forgotten about Sydney and his assistant, how close they were by. If they sprinted, they'd be with them within seconds. If they weren't so focused on the lake, turning their backs to the twins, not worrying about them as long as they had the remotes in their hands.

“You are really hard. Your underwear is wet. Even you don't want to be seen like this when I do this.” He shoved the skirt up, revealing what had been secluded by the piece of close to everyone who would happen to look into their direction. A light breeze touched Mike's hot skin, but instead of cooling it down, it seemed to add to the heat.

“I hate you!” Mike groaned and tried to squirm away, but Gabe didn't let him. If Mike really wanted to break free, he would have to put up a fight, and it was likely that Gabe would fight back while keeping the upper hand. And they would catch the attention of the others.

“I hate you, too.” Grinning, Gabe stuffed the skirt into its waistband so it wouldn't fall down, leaving Mike's hard groin uncovered and clearly visible through the lacy undergarment.

“You can't take much more.” His chuckle turned into gleeful giggle. Still holding Mike's head in place and forcing him to look ahead, the fingers of his other hand playfully glided over his twin's cock, very well aware how much Mike hated the teasing touches. And how much more he hated it they drove him crazy.

“Fuck ya! Fuck ya! Fuck ya!” Mike twisted and struggled, pushing his hips towards Gabe's hand.

“Stop those fucking pussy touches and use ya hand like a man!” he panted, giving a low, pained cry when the fingers around his chin dug forcefully into his jaw.

“Dammit, not that hand! You're not funny, dumbass!” Mike hissed through clenched teeth, cursing when his brother chuckled. His jaw hurt from Gabe's grip, but that was nothing against the growing pain in his groin. He cursed himself for reacting so strongly to this absurd situation, and he cursed Gabe who knew a bit too well how to drive him insane with a few touches.

That he felt how Gabe behind him was getting harder didn't help at all. Finally, he cursed being here, and not in some place where he could take the opportunity of them both being horny. Instead, he was at his twin's mercy, unable to do anything about it.

Well, he could of course elbow him, or kick him or even try to punch him, even if that resulted into a brawl, it would be an escape out of Gabe's sadistic hands. But then there was the risk of bruises and nosy team-leaders... No, too dangerous, Mike decided, he could have his revenge later; for now, he would act like a man and bear with it.

The ache grew more intense and the violent shiver of his own body interrupted his thoughts. Finally, Gabe stopped teasing him, and with a few firm strokes, he brought him closer to the edge of release.

“Gawd, yes!” Closing his eyes and forgetting again about their surroundings, Mike groaned, feeling the muscles of his thighs and stomach tighten. Fine pearls of sweat were running down his temples; the heat in his body was about to burn him when he felt his own cock pulsating in Gabe's hand.

A loud whistle shrilled right into his ear.

Abruptly, Mike opened his eyes, the echo of the piercing sound ringing in his head. Both hands that were holding him were gone, leaving him panting and confused.

The low, gloating giggle behind him brought him back, and for a second, the world seemed to turn slower, although everything was happening so fast. Ahead of them, he saw Sydney and Lukas turn around, like in slow-motion. His eyes grew wider as he realized what a sight he exposed to them.

“You... you ASSHOLE!”

Quickly, he fumbled with the skirt, trying to push it down again, to hide his still full erection. Blood flushed his cheeks and he turned around, facing the two approaching man with his back. With a trembling hand, he wiped the sweat of his forehead, staring into the distance with as much causality as he could muster up.

Gabe smirked at him. His eyes seemed to be even brighter with wicked arousal when he lifted his hand to his lips.

“Told you, you were already leaking.” With a wide grin, Gabe quickly licked his fingertips.

“You...!”

“Is everything alright, my dears? Why did you whistle for us?” Sydney and Lukas had caught up with them, but Mike was too caught up in the silent dialogue with his brother to pay him any attention.

He glowered at his twin, silently promising him he would get even for that. Gabe glared back, giving an answer only Mike could understand - 'We'll see about that.'

“The challenge is on.” At his own words, Mike's grin disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and he flinched. This kind of promise between them didn't help him to get rid of the hard-on that was still clearly visible, even with the skirt now covering it. He better put up a good fight later, if he didn't want to remain in this state, so close to the edge, for hours. The way Gabe looked at him only made Mike's guess of his brother's intention more valid.

“Mike, dear?” Sydney looked from one twin to the other, puzzled. Something had happened, that was obvious, there was a tension in the air. But as his instinct told him that it wasn't hostile, Sydney relaxed. Another look at Gabe's eyes, and at Mike, who wore a bite mark that hadn't been there before and a clearly ruffled skirt, and quite another of Sydney's instincts chimed in.

Suddenly, Sydney broke into a knowing grin. Even without knowing what exactly had happened, he had enough imagination to guess the direction.

“Are you alright, dear? You're face is all red, is it too hot for you? Maybe you should join us, over there at the lake there is a nice and shady place where you can sit down. You could feed some ducks, too, they are so adorable,” he offered in pretended worry.

With a sweet smile he winked at Gabe, who was watching him with a calm gaze. For the fraction of a second, he thought Gabe would smile back. But it was just a fleeting moment, and the twin's features became blank again, and he averted his eyes to the side.

“If ya don't piss off at once I'm gonna rip out ya lungs with my bare hands, bitch!” Mike's temper flared up, realizing he was being teased. It was one thing – and outrageous enough - if his brother teased him, but not that faggot! And certainly not about what had just happened while they were in public where he was wearing this crap!

“Go to hell, all of you!” he snarled, still not turning around.

“Calm down, all is well, darling. Nothing to be ashamed of!”

“Sydney, please stop!” In dismay, Lukas stared at Mike's back, almost feeling the aggressiveness creeping through his own body when the twin's shoulders tensed.

In mild surprise, Sydney turned to his assistant, noting the alerted fear in Lukas' eyes, and sighed. Yes, he was about to go to far with his excitement. Without their restraints, walking around more or less freely, and wearing these clothes, it had been so easy to forget for a moment who the twins really were. And that they didn't share his kind of humor.

“You are right, Lukas. Sorry.” He sighed, meekly bowing his head.

“I'm sorry, boys. My, look at the time! And we haven't had anything to eat since breakfast!” Sydney checked his watch. It was still in the early afternoon, but right on cue, as he mentioned it, his stomach began to growl.

“Let's leave for now. I know the quaintest little restaurant, only a few corners from here. Oh, or maybe the endearing place from... Mike, Gabe, darlings, what would you like to eat?”

“Well, how about...” Mike tipped his head back, wrinkling his forehead, as if he had to ponder over the question thoroughly. After a moment, he turned around, just enough to show Sydney a mocking grin.

“How about adorable ducks? Roasted and extra crispy?”

“Oh, in that case I know a lovely Chinese restaurant, the duck they serve is too exquisite for words and...” Sydney smiled with delight at the twins, signaling them with a wave of his hand to follow him, prattling on.

“Come, if we hurry, we might be just in time for their special lunch offers! Believe me, you'll love it!”

Sydney walked ahead, followed by a sighing Lukas, and finally, by the twins.

“Geez, can't wait for this trip from hell to be over.” Mike rolled his eyes, sighing as well. Then, all of the sudden, he gave Lukas a push against the back.

“Hey!” he whispered so only Lukas could hear him once he had turned around. Fortunately, his body had calmed down enough for him to walk without raising any more unasked for suspicion from Sydney. Furthermore, the prospect of food cheered his mood up immensely. He grinned widely at the nervous man in front of him.

“Guess who's getting laid tonight? Have a hint – it's not you!”

*

~ Epilogue ~

Two days later, back at the base of Team King

Sydney closed the door behind him and counted to ten. When he was sure nobody was coming after them, he walked over to his desk and let himself fall into his office chair.

He took a deep breath and finally broke out into laughter.

He didn't just laugh, he bellowed and roared until his lungs and stomach hurt while tears were running over his face.

“God, that felt good!” he gasped and picked a handkerchief from the pocket of his shirt, wiping his eyes.

Since the moment he had opened the twins' suitcase he had fought so hard against the violent fits of laughter that he had feared he would burst. But during their stay in the city, with either an exasperated Mike or a worried Lukas around, his skill as a reassuring leader who is in firm control of the situation was required.

The mood had become a bit more relaxed when they found time on the second day to replace the twins' temporary clothes with outfits that suited them more. However, the twins, especially Mike, had reminded him a lot of animals who had been forced in front of a chunk of meat while being threatened with a gun if they only moved a muscle.

'Well, replace meat with freedom, and it's pretty close to the truth. Poor boys, must have been hard for them.' Yet he was still surprised that they really had pulled themselves together, not attempting to escape or overpower them once, no matter how nervous or restless they had been during their stay.

'On the other hand, reckless as they as they are when it's about one alone, the protective instinct towards the brother has always been amazingly strong, in both of them.' Sydney pondered over this for one more moment, first over the twins, then over the other members of his team, their strengths and their quirks.

Suddenly, he broke out into another chuckle, turning it into a snort when he tried not to roar again.

Sydney was rarely out of ideas, and certainly rarely out of any idea what to say, no matter how absurd the situation might be. But this time...

They had arrived in the late afternoon.

Since the moment of their arrival, Sydney and Lukas had been busy to catch up with the business and news of the last days, while the twins had been brought back into their room, again restrained by the usual cuffs and shackles after the Administrator had asked for the ankle monitors to be returned to her.

Jean and Tyler had returned to the base around noon the same day, and especially the Tentaspy had been in a very good mood. Whatever insult Mike had hurled at him was ignored and the twins had been shoved into the cell and been locked away without any flesh tearing or bone cracking incidents.

Once Sydney had finished unpacking, he had decided to pay the two of them a visit, and he had been lucky to witness a scene that would make him snicker for weeks whenever he recalled it:

With a wide grin, Mike stood behind the security door, the arms proudly crossed and his head high. Gabe had withdrawn himself with a book, sitting with crossed legs on his bed.

The door had just been closed again, after Jean had retrieved a bundle of clothes.

“Disgusting!” The Tentaspy wrinkled his nose.

“To imagine those fine, exquisite fabrics having touched their filthy bodies! Ty, my darling.” With an almost apologetic smile from a man whose heart was about to break he handed Tyler the bundle.

“We spoke about it. I hate to be so hard on you, mon cher. Forgive me, but this punishment is necessary, too.”

Sydney raised his eyebrows, his mind burning with curiosity about any other punishment. However, he knew Jean well enough to refrain from asking, unless he felt like being sent to respawn himself. On the other hand, because he knew Jean well enough, he could guess a thing or two, liking very much what his imagination suggested.

“Yeah, I'm gonna wash them, by myself, alright, no problem.” Tyler just shrugged, most indifferently. Giving the Scout a lenient, sad smile and a loving pat on the cheek, Jean left them.

To see Tyler accepting a task like this without pouting or protesting was unusual, but Sydney understood the source of Tyler's placidity when he saw the haughty glance he shot at Mike. The clothes in his hands had clearly been worn, telling Tyler that his prank had worked, and he was already gloating over the very idea of one of the twins wearing one of his outfits.

But as his triumphant look fell on Mike's unimpressed stance, a light frown appeared on his face.

“Hey, Barbie.” Mike's amusement over Tyler's now puzzled expression didn't neither escape Sydney nor Tyler, having an even more confusing effect on the latter.

“Hate to break it to ya, but I gotta tell ya I'm looking a lot hotter in ya faggot rags than ya do. Oh, and sorry for what happened to ya fancy underwear,” Mike added slyly.

“What do you...” In spite of himself, Tyler found himself dropping the bundle, all except the lingerie. Even from his position, Sydney saw that the fabric had been overstretched and torn in several places. The moment Tyler touched a large, stiff patch of lace at the front was enough for the Scout to put one and one together and to realize what had happened to the clothes while they had been worn by Mike.

“Geez, what... YUCK! Ya... Ya freaking pervert! Ya really did... in my... Fuck, no! NO!” His face contorted with disgust, Tyler tossed the garment away, hectically wiping his hands on his dress.

“Well.” Mike gazed dreamily at the ceiling, his delighted and blissful smile growing wider and wider.

“First, I guess ya dick's too small, 'cause ya panties cannot handle a real man. But the real fun was when Gabe...”

“SHUT UP! Oh my GOD, shut UP ya sick asshole!” Tyler yelled and turned on his heel, storming out of the room.

Sydney slowly released his breath. Mike was shaking with laughter, letting himself fall onto Gabe's bed, snatched the book away and started drumming on his brother's legs.

“Did ya see that? Did ya see his face? Gabe! Gaaabe! Did ya see that?”

This was too much for Sydney. He mumbled an “excuse me!”, certain it hadn't been heard anyway, and, not very much unlike Tyler, stormed away, dashing all the way back to his office.

*

Now he was sitting at his desk, panting and gasping as he tried to recover his breath after another wave of laughter had taken hold of him.

“Syd, handsome, pull yourself together!” he reprimanded himself strictly, straightening his back.

“Be a good leader and sort this out! Or the boys won't stop their efforts to outsmart each other with their pranks! And no, neither of them deserved it!” He chuckled again, but before he could call himself to order, the telephone interrupted him.

“Yes? I mean, Sydney King, speaking, how can I please you?” He bit on his lips, hoping to finally be able to control himself.

“The day you answer the phone like a grown up man will please me immensely, Sydney King,” a dry, female voice answered him.

“Oh, Helen, darling! How are you? Too bad we didn't have more time to sit together and have a lovely chat. I have a few suggestions about the design of your invitations and I'd love to discuss them with you one day, preferably before you have to send seasoning greetings!”

“Sydney King! What have I told you after the last time I trusted you with the design of cards with seasoning greetings?”

He shrank at the sharp tone of her voice.

“A picture of me wearing nothing but a Santa hat and only a gift box covering my privates sent to your business partners again, or anything like that, and I'll wish I was dead every minute of the rest of my miserable life.” His head meekly bowed, he flinched as he remembered her yelling at him for half an hour after she had seen the result of his devoted work and didn't agree with his lovely idea at all.

“Correct. Good, don't forget it! And if you don't mind, I'd like to get down to business,” she whistled with a honey covered voice, and Sydney knew he better refrained from interrupting her with any of his suggestions at this point.

The following 15 minutes he listened in silence to her instructions for the next meeting of the leaders of her teams, only adding a confirming “yes” or “understood” once in a while.

“Can you please repeat the dates and numbers? So I can countercheck the notes I made?” he asked her politely, quickly scribbling another array of details down before they slipped his mind.

“Not necessary, my assistant will send you an invitation. Is there anything you have to say on that?”

Sydney bit his tongue, holding himself back. Of course she was sharp enough to catch the low gasp he had made when he almost started with the design of her invitations again, closing his mouth just in time.

“No, I mean, yes! Well, not about invitations,” he hurried to say. When she was listening and asking anyway, he might as well inquire about something that had been on his mind since they had to restrain the twins again.

“But, about the device we tested for you. Do you know when your technicians will be done evaluating the results? And when we can expect to receive a pair for the twins?”

“Sydney, I think you are mistaken about the core of your part. The ankle monitors are not for you.”

“I know, I mean, I assumed that they weren't developed for the sake of my boys, but after it worked so well, I thought...”

“You thought that, if the twins didn't make a commotion and behave themselves, or are easily disciplined due to the electrical impulses, I'll send you two devices for your amusement,” the snarly voice from the other end of the line summed up his thoughts.

“Not for my amusement! To improve the quality of the twins' lives!” In his protest, the tone of his own voice grew harsh, but as the air of increasing impatience thickened to the point he thought he could touch it, he took a deep breath.

“I'm aware it isn't a game, Helen, it's business. But they aren't animals, how do you expect them to recover if they are locked up in a cage or in chains?”

“Sydney, I told you before and I'll tell you again. Team King is not a hospital or a sanatorium. If your twins have a high quality of living or recover from anything that has nothing to do with my business isn't of importance to me. They are alive, they are safe as long as they are locked up, that's more than they could ever have asked for when you came to me and begged me to use my influence to help them. And to be honest, Mr. King, I'm growing tired of reminding you of that! Don't push it!”

“Sorry, I'll remember that, and of course I'm grateful for your help.” More growling than speaking, he pressed the words through his teeth. Another deep breath, and he forced himself to smile.

“So, maybe, if the results are satisfying, is there a way to purchase a pair? On my own expenses, of course.”

“I'm sorry, Sydney, but this isn't for me to decide. The company had only been asked to assist the development and testing phase. The patent lies in the hands of the customer, and before you ask, no, I cannot give you his contact information. Business policy.”

“I see. Alright. Thank you anyway. At least they had a few hours to walk around like normal, free young men.” His shoulders dropped and he sighed.

“My dear Sydney, thinking of the entrance your little group gave I'm inclined to say 'normal' doesn't apply. However!” The amusement stealing into her voice so all of the sudden caused Sydney's eyebrows to raise.

“Even if with just a few hours outside and in the hotel, I assure you they – let me put it this way – made the most of it.”

“Now, dear, you have a talent to spark my curiosity. What exactly do you mean?” Despite his disappointment, Sydney couldn't help smiling. Her choice of words prompted a certain hunch; after all, he knew only too well about 'his' twins.

“I'm sorry, the recordings from the cameras and microphones fall within the business secrets between company and client. Well, that's all. Back to work, Mr. King. And don't you dare to send a Spy again!”

“Helen! I'm shocked! Such an assumption! As if I had ever asked Lukas to sneak into your office, searching for footage and...” Shooting upright from his chair, he put his hand on his heart, his eyes wide open.

“Of course, you would never think of something atrocious like that. Goodbye, Sydney.”

The absence of the burning sun mislead to the impression of decreasing head, but it was like It often was with first impressions – deceiving.

A few steps, even without haste, and breathing became already harder; shirts and light summer summer dresses stuck to the bodies within only a few minutes.

Streetlights and smugly cool shining stars along with the darkness reminded as the only ones that the day was over.

One look at the clock warned – the new morning wasn't far away anymore.

Not all residents found sleep in a night like this.

Those of this district with a regular job tossed and turn in their beds, sweaty and exhausted. At daybreak they would be as tired as at the evening before.

So far after midnight the street might have been empty; most of the people however didn't sleep. They flocked together – in taverns, in pubs, the only locations where it was even warmer than outside.

The street was living from the night; the night was the crossing into another world that was unimpressed by the late hour, the summer heat or freezing cold.

As long as people had a few extra coins left in their pockets and, more important, lust and desire for soft skin and willing flesh, the brothels of this world would open their gates.

Red and orange colored light began to flicker from the first minute of dusk; laughter, smells of perfume and expensive, thinned drinks beckoned.

Those whose senses finally grew tired of these charms, but who still weren't ready and tired enough for their beds at home, surrounded themselves with thick veils of smoke and too loud music. They found refuge in places with fine-sounding, decidedly harmless names like “Home Sweet Home”.

The “Sweet Home”, as it was called most of the time, was as well-visited at usual this night.

Close to the whorehouses, but without a direct view to the sinful alleys, it was a popular and even from wary wives tolerated bar.

Its once modern splendor had faded, but many still wallowed in the nostalgia of the 40s, when the “Sweet Home” had been taken over by its new owners.

After a fire in the 50s many furniture and the wiring of the old building had been replaced.

Now, in the late 60s, the charm of the gone years still remained, as did a faint scent of burnt wood that would never vanish completely.

Sure, still calling it a bar bent the truth – only the choice of drinks somewhat resembled that of a modern bar of today, and, on a few evenings, the choice of music.

By itself, the “Sweet Home” was a pub. Blue-collar workers liked to meet here, especially on wet fall days, cold winter evenings, fresh spring nights and after a hot summer afternoon.

Strangers enjoyed to stay as well. They often visited after almost emptying their pockets for a favorable madam a few minutes around the corner, leaving them with a few last coins for a glass or two of cheap beer.

Women were rare guests, and those who came, were older. The few younger ladies who came once in a while were not 30 yet, but already on the wrong side of 20. They mostly trusted that, after the second drink, most men still found a note in the hidden folds of their wallet for a quick, cheap amusement.

Tonight, the two men who stood with slightly bent shoulders over their drinks at the counter were the youngest guests of the “Sweet Home”. They weren't older than 24 or 25, but that wasn't interesting about them. Even the broad shoulders and the athletic built of their bodies hardly caught any attention. Really fascinating to look at were the pale and in every detail identical faces. Twins were a rare sight.

Especially handsome twins like these. The almost unearthly resemblance didn't only catch the interest of the few women present.

However, only one look in their eyes – bluer than the sky and cold as ice – let men and women alike halt before they dared to even say one single word to the young guests.

The barkeeper was a scraggy man whose long ponytail had become thinner and whiter with the passing years and that couldn't hide the bald patch on top of his head. He had served beer and hard liquor for long enough – even before the fire, before the owners had changed.

These guys meant trouble, a quick glance out of the corner of his eye had been enough to notice the restless sparkle in the twins' eyes. If his experience didn't completely deceive him, he was certain that those men shouldn't be underestimated, especially the slightly more muscular one. Even if his face remained blank when his brother whispered something in his ear and burst into laughter.

This kind of men, the barkeeper knew, were the most dangerous kind. Like a seemingly peaceful volcano before an eruption, or an unexpected storm surge. If the violence broke out of this silent guy, the barkeeper didn't want to be the one to take care of it, and fortunately, this wouldn't be his job. He only served them beer, and later, he would collect the amount due.

Everything else wasn't his business.

With a shrug, he wiped over the wooden surface of the counter with a stained towel and threw it over his shoulder when he was done.

“Lothar! Your turn! And bring another round of beer!”

Right, these old blokes were thirsty, but not drunk enough yet to not understand why they would lose the game of dice against him later.

“Hey, are ya even listening to me, kiddo?” The more talkative twin gave his brother a nudge with his elbow.

“I tell ya, that's gonna be the best shit we've ever pulled off!” His voice became unclear when he shoved a cigarette between his lips. A click, a second click, and the small flame of the battered lighter burnt long enough to lighten it. A sudden coughing fit didn't prevent him from continuing his speech.

“Those assholes ain't deserve any better! Fucking nut house. For every fucked-up day I'm gonna bust their asses a bit more, every single one of those motherfuckers!” He coughed again. He had had his last cigarette too long ago, but what did it matter? He had enough time to got used to them again. He tapped the ash off his cigarette to the floor and with his free hand, he slapped on his twin's shoulder.”

“Ya ain't shitting ya pants, are ya?” Being somewhere between anger and overeagerness just a second ago, he changed to light, almost docile banter.

“Those pricks gave ya a raw deal after all, too, right?” Almost gently, too gently for a brotherly touch, his fingertips ran over his twin's neck, only for a second. The he gave him another slap on his back, forcefully enough to thoroughly spill the contents of a glass. If the talked-to twin had held his beer in his hands, if he had touched it at all.

“Gabe, all the more for that! Listen up! Tomorrow we gonna march through that door, you smash the face of the first white-wearing motherfucker ya seein' and then take that shitty dump to pieces! We gonna tear every single one of them to pieces who pulled this shit with us!”

Supporting himself by putting his arm on the counter, he leaned forward and looked directly into his brother's face.

“Don't ya tell me ya wouldn't enjoy this. In the end we gonna beat each other up who's gonna wring the last fucker's neck. See, told ya!”

This was the big advantage of having a twin, especially when there was such a tight bond like this between those two brothers.

Satisfied with himself, he straightened himself again, reached for his beer and emptied it in one go.

“Don't ya forget, no more respawn. If ya promise me not to beat me to a bloody pulp, I ain't gonna do that, too.”

Nobody cared much about the conversation of others, as long as they weren't about about oneself. It was loud; the room was too small for so many voices, music from an old jukebox and the curses of an elderly carpenter, who just had lost the rest of his wage in a game of dice.

But the heads turned when the twin whose arms were covered with bandages up to his shoulders burst out with laughter, and for a short moment, the conversations had stalled.

The friendly gesture of fondling the hair of his still silent brother didn't match the cruel sound coming from his mouth. The temperature seemed to drop by a few degree and not only a few felt an ice-cold shudder running down their spines, even more hardened men.

Those of the guests who saw the twins face when he threw back his head were scared. This wasn't laughing – the white, bared teeth, revealed by a humorless grin weren't even a threat – it was a promise. Blood would be spilled.

Some of the visitors waited a few more minutes until the babel of voices hesitantly returned. When the fearful moment was over, they stood up, paid their bill and hurried to get away from the street, right home to their still too warm, but safe beds. Hopefully safe.

Unimpressed by the interlude, the barkeeper nodded to them when the twin waved at him, and brought them another beer. He hesitated. The glass of the other brother was still full to the brim, the beer foam had already gone. It was impossible that this drink was still enjoyable, especially as the silent twin – Gabe, if he had heard it correctly – held the glass tightly with both hands.

A look into his face, and he kept his words to himself. Only a fool would throw a burning match into a lake filled with gasoline.

The awkward atmosphere that could unfortunately damage his business was just relaxing again, so he knew better than provoking one of those two madmen. No, he would do his job and supply them with beer. Besides, the night wasn't over yet:

The door opened – another late guest, and the barkeeper sight. This person wasn't very welcome her, but well, business first, as he always said. Time to care about the drinks. The twin already demanded more; how many glasses had that been now? Four? Five?

“Nah, forget it, drink ya dishwater yaself,” he was just repelling. At the twin's question, if his brother didn't want to finally drink his beer, he had shoved his glass over to him without a word.

“I can do well without such heated up piss. Idiot, ya have to drink this stuff while it's still cold!”

“Mike? Is that you? My, this must have been, like, forever!”

The barkeeper turned his back to the small group, restraining himself not to laugh out loudly. With all the danger radiating from these guys – when such a shrill voice began to shriek directly and unexpectedly next to someone's ear, even insane twins gave a start. Well, hopefully this didn't mean trouble inside of the bar. However, sooner or later it would be sorted out; time to mind his own business.

“Stop screaming around, got it?” Mike hissed. He turned around and hesitated. His hands had already been raised for a blow, but he would either have to drop his beer or his cigarette.

The young women was about his age, a bit smaller and, of course, more delicate. She wore her long hair in a casual, untidy bun so that she had to shove loose strands out of her face over and over again. This alone already irritated him, and the weird orange color and the chemical smell made him sick.

No, she certainly wasn't worth the waste of beer or tobacco.

At least she smiled at him, and even if he didn't remember her face, he remembered this kind of expression.

Sparkling eyes, flushed cheeks, silly giggling. His brother wasn't of much use today, so why not having fun with a girl again, for a change? They could get rid of her later anytime, one way or another.

He put his glass down and leaned with his back against the counter. He took a pull on his cigarette and grinned at her while he slowly breathed out the smoke through his mouth and nose.

“And ya knowin' me from where again, beautiful?” In his eyes, 'beautiful' was definitely something else, but it didn't matter.

'Chicks dig this gab. When ya ain't looking at their cake hole, they are all the same anyway,' he thought not for the first time while being confronted with a woman with obvious intentions towards him. She wasn't aware what caused his grin. She smiled even wider and blushed. Easy prey for Mike.

“Don't you remember? Well, how should you, we haven't seen each other, like, in ages! I was 15 and you, uh...” She thought about it for a moment, as if she had to count the years with the help of invisible fingers in her head.

“17, right? You know, my hair was black back then, but this looks so much prettier don't you think so, too?” With a coquettish smile she wrapped another orange strand of her hair around her finger and let it bounce in front of her nose.

“Very pretty,” Mike assured her, not at all interested in her hair.

“Anyway, I'm Nicole, hi!” she finally introduced herself. She stretched out her hand but pulled it away quickly when Mike only stared at her while his smile began to fade.

“Well, Mikey...” Unimpressed she shoved herself closer to him – close enough for Mike to feel the heat of her body.

'Easy prey?!'

One slender finger with a red painted nail ran over his chest down to his abdomen, gliding over firm muscles.

'Easy prey, my ass!' he chuckled. 'That's not even a prey anymore, but a carcass. Stinking, slimy and rotten carcass ya never get rid off once ya trod into it by accident.'

For Mike, almost a poetical, philosophical reflection. And he hated being called 'Mikey'.

Oh yes, tonight he would have some fun with this Nicole.

“Do you already have plans for the night?” she whispered. “I have a room at Madame Yvette, and my shift is over. I can take you with me for a few hours, free of charge.”

Ah, this was why her name seemed familiar, she was one of the hooker's district. Thanks, but no thanks, he wasn't that desperate. His interest began to die away.

“Nicole, it would be a freakin' feast for me.” The effort to let his words sound lovingly and enraptured failed. It simply wasn't his style. He himself didn't notice that, self-confident as he was, and she seemed to take it as he had wished: with eyes full of hope.

Slowly, her tongue glided over her own lips, an inviting gesture.

“But either yar blind or so sloshed that ya think ya seeing double,” he continued and this time, even she couldn't ignore the lack of charm – she made a sour face, prepared to retort with a snappy remark. Mike had already turned around and pointed at his twin.

“I'm here with my baby brother, sorry, no time. I'm so sorry. Hey, do I have to bash somebody up to get something to drink?”

The barkeeper hurried over to them and brought a new glass. Before Mike could pick it up, she already had it in her hand and sipped the foam.

At this point, Mike was sure – this wasn't her first drink and the flushed face wasn't only caused by bashfulness. If he knew anything, then it was telling a blush from the face of a drunk.

“Oh dear, my poor boy. Do you still have to play the babysitter for this dunce? Gabe was it, right?” She took a long swig, closing her eyes. The shadow that fell over Mike's still grinning face and disappeared as fast as it had come was unnoticed by her.

“This is so stupid, such a handsome man,” she purred and licked the white foam from her red lips,”always with his retarded brother in tow. Hey Gabe!” She grinned over the rim of the glass and waved at the silent twin in an exaggerated friendly manner.

“Can he even understand me?”

Mike glanced shortly at his brother. Gabe's eyes were still focused on his drink, his face unaffected from the things happening around him. Apparently. Mike knew his brother well enough.

He laughed, pushed himself away from the counter and walked behind his twin.

“Oh well, quite some shitty situation, but what should I do? He's family, right?” From behind, he seized Gabe's chin and turned his face into her direction, his own head resting on his brother's.

This afternoon, after the battle, they had taken a shower. Despite the smell of smoke, the scent of burnt wood and the stench of her sickly sweet perfume he could still smell the soap Gabe had used to wash his hair.

“A bit retarded, yeah. But he's really pretty, isn't he?” He grinned again, wide and revealing his teeth. A few steps away, the barkeeper almost dropped a glass. The young woman, however, did not think anything of it and smiled.

“Yeah, true, but well, twins, and with a hot brother like you... he cannot be ugly.”

“Quite true.” Mike nodded in agreement. “Wanna know a secret? Come closer!” He let go of Gabe's chin and wrapped his arms around his twins neck. Curiously, she bent forward, her face only a few inches away from the twins'.

“My little brother, he's still a virgin, can ya believe that?” he whispered as if he was convinced that nobody, even his brother, couldn't hear him.

“No!”she exclaimed in astonishment and looked more closely at the younger twins' face. Mike nodded.

“Tragic, isn't it? Not even a blowjob or anything for him yet. Always he has to listen to the bragging of his big brother. Isn't it a shame, with a face like his?”

“Yeah, you are right.” She giggled. “But what could be done about that?”

One of Mike's hands ran through her hair and finally rested on her cheek. His lips were so close, they almost touched hers.

“Have ya ever had twins, Nicole? Suck him off, and I'll more than return the favor. What are ya thinking? Nicole?”

She nodded, her gaze caught by ice-blue, coldly sparkling eyes.

“Where?”

*

One arm around her shoulders, one around Gabe's waist, Mike and his companions left the “Sweet Home”.

Warm air was still surrounding them; the temperature outside was hardly different from inside. Only the clouds of smoke and the smell of stale alcohol and sweat were missing.

Mike inhaled deeply and coughed. The fresh air felt good, but apparently, he had smoked too much for a first day after their new freedom.

'So what?' Inwardly, he shrugged. 'It'll all be fine.'

He dragged his brother and their acquaintance of the night to the opposite side of the street. Dawn would arrive soon. Now, the street was still asleep, but once the sun was rising, people would either leave their home or return. Mike wasn't in the mood for this kind of interruption.

Finally, they arrived in a narrow, dark alley. The buildings reaching upwards to their left and right had begun to slowly tilt inwards – in only a few years the roofs would touch. So the view to the sky was almost completely blocked, and from the sidewalk only a faintly glowing streetlamp shed some light.

Just bright enough to see what they were doing; just dark enough to not being seen.

Mike was still gazing at the bit of visible sky, trying to see at least one of the stars. Nicole had already freed herself from his grip and knelt down on the dark, dirty asphalt.

“Mike...”

Gabe's voice was as unmoved as his face. Mike gave up on the sky and turned to his brother, nodding at him.

'I know. Don't worry yourself sick.'

The young woman in her red dress and her red high-heels, kneeling in gravel and pieces of garbage, was oblivious of the silent dialog. Her fingers were jittery from drinking and she didn't want to spoil one of her long, pretty nails while she fumbled with the belt holding the pants of the younger twin.

She had heard Gabe saying the one single word though.

“He can talk?” Her hands halted. “I always thought he couldn't do that.”

Mike laughed and walked behind her.

“Of course he can. Nineteen to a dozen, doesn't stop at all. Right, Gabe?” Without looking at his twin, he continued. “He just doesn't talk to everyone.”

“Ah, I see. So it's a good sign and he likes me?”

Her way to giggle really jarred on his nerves.

“Oooh well...”

Without a warning, he bent forward and seized her by her shoulders.

She wanted to raise her head, asking what was going on. Gabe, however was faster.

He rammed his knee into her face, the thin bridge of her nose broke.

She gave a piercing yell and yanked up her hands, as if this would help her to stop the pain and the stream of blood running out of her nose. Tears ran over her face. Everything was happening too sudden for her to react.

With a mockingly friendly smile, Mike took hold of her hair and pulled her up to have a good look at her face.

“It is a very good sign, ya know. He wants to have fun with ya,” he explained, still ostensibly amiable.

“Ya know, it's like that – everybody who hears him talk will nicely kick the bucket, except me, of course. A question of honor, guess ya understand.” He laughed when her eyes widened. Finally, she began to understand what was happening. She had let herself in for her own death, she had ignored all the warnings she had once heard and had set them at naught.

Abruptly, he dragged her back to her feet, turning her towards his brother. She stumbled, her hands still covering her face. She tried to scream, but more than a whimper didn't come from her mouth. The hands of the older twin clasped her upper arms like he wanted to squash them.

He pulled her arms back, forcing hands away from her face, and Gabe lunged out, this time, with his fist.

It was difficult to tell if he missed the nose or just wanted to break another bone. Her jaws forcefully hit against each other – two teeth split.

“Ya have to know,” the spiteful voice whispered into her ear from behind, “my adorable little brother hates women.”

The words noisily rushed through her head; it was impossible for her to really grasp them. Her nose, her mouth... breathing hurt. Her own blood ran along her throat. It was warm and sticky and seeped into her cleavage. What else he said she didn't hear; the punch into her stomach and another against her temple she hardly noticed. The broken teeth, the sore nerves in her jaws – these pains were stronger.

“Gabe, ya idiot! I talk to this slut all night so she comes along... and now she's already wasted. Idiot!” he repeated impatiently. He let go of the woman. Lifelessly, she fell to the ground. Her eyes were half open and her chest heaved up and down quickly.

Of course. They weren't amateurs.

The wounds were nicely bloody and painful, but not lethal, just the way it should be. Once she would be conscious again... well, what then? Beating her up again?

“I don't wanna fuck this hoe, too filthy, yuck!” Mike voiced his thoughts. Except of a shrug, his brother didn't react.

Boring. Their fun had ended far too quickly, and it would soon be morning, too. Now that the warm but clean air slowly weakened the effect of the beer, the plan to amuse themselves at the expense of their new acquaintance suddenly seemed less interesting.

Mike remembered what they had planned to do in a few hours. What had a half-dead whore who smelled of cheap perfume and alcohol to offer compared to that?

“Fuck it, let's end this shit.” Indifferently, Mike turned the whimpering girl onto her back. She tried to speak, but the only thing coming from her mouth was more blood. She coughed.

Mike sat down on her chest. He put his hands around her neck and let his fingers constrict around her slender throat.

She twitched beneath him; with surprising strength her arms slashed around when less and less air filled her lungs.

Mike loved these moments wen the eyes of his victims rolled up and all he could see was the white while the color of the face slowly turned darker.

Suddenly, he released her.

Gasping for air, she tried to sit up, but he pushed her back to the ground at once. He continued to choke her, his fingers digging deeply into her skin, even slower than before. The game was repeated.

Then, Gabe stood in front of him.

“What?”

“Go away.” A short answer, as Mike was used it from his twin. Gabe took him by his shoulders and wanted to pull her away from the woman, but he wouldn't dream of loosening his grip. If he accidentally killed her too early, Gabe better braced himself!

“Stop it!” Mike snapped at him. “You already had your fun, the rest is for me, dumbass! Never heard of sharing brotherly?”

Gabe snorted in disgust and Mike grinned. Sayings like this would be typical for those idiots from the base, but fortunately, those times were over for the twins.

Mike's grin widened when his twin took a stand right above their victim, placing his feet to the right and left of her now crimson-colored head. With a lot less effort than the woman before, Gabe opened the buckle of his belt and unbuttoned his pants.

“He, I see,” Mike smirked. “All right, little brother, I promised you a blowjob earlier, so...” He wasn't able to finish his sentence.

Both twins shared the passion for the sound of breaking bones, tearing away flesh and for the smell and color of blood – puddles, streams, lashings of blood.

Mike, however, felt more aroused by slaughtering than his twin.

However, Gabe's dick already filled his mouth nicely, even if it wasn't fully erected yet. It was enough to hinder Mike from speaking.

A hand seizing him by his hair prevented him from pulling away. Like he would ever had thought of it!

He tried to focus – on his hands, he wanted the process of strangling to last. On his tongue, how it moved over soft skin, along the shaft, over the tip. He felt it grow and opened his jaws a bit wider, taking the now a lot bigger dick deeper into his mouth.

The whimpering of his victim was joined by a throatily, growling moan.

'Yeah, ya like that, don't ya?' Mike looked up. His brother was gazing down at him, his cheeks slightly flushed, the eyes wide open. There was no doubt – Gabe was watching him closely.

'Sick bastard.'

Mike wished he could have said this aloud, although he didn't really mean it. His own pants grew tight, but if he opened it, he would have to let go of the woman. That wasn't possible, it was against the rules.

Slowly, Gabe pressed his brother's head closer – the full length disappeared in Mike's mouth.

'Ya wanna see a show? Ya gonna get it.' Mike tried to control his breathing and held his head as upright as he could to avoid gagging. He almost succeeded.

He coughed and groaned when his brother pulled back a bit. Only to push in forcefully again.

It was great. The fight for his own control.

He hardly couldn't move his tongue, but he tried just the same; he fought against the firm grip of his brother – gaining a bit more leeway. Quickly, he let his tongue run over the smooth skin of the tip, enjoying the first salty taste. He looked again at Gabe, saw how his twin bit on his lip as he was determined not to moan. Mike almost pitied his brother. He would have a hard time to control himself if he were in Gabe's place, too, here, free, smelling the scent of fresh blood.

Mike already found it difficult to remain calm anyway. However, he simply continued. He was only apparently placid, sucking with his lips, playing with his tongue. Carefully, his teeth glided along the shaft while the tip of his tongue ran over the corona. Gabe thrust again, faster. He ignored it when Mike squirmed and tried to keep control over his gag reflex. Small beads of sweat appeared on the older twin's forehead and ran down his temples. They burnt in his eyes, so he closed them.

There was nothing worse for Mike than being helpless and at the mercy of somebody else. His brother was the only exception. Mike simply couldn't remove his hands from the woman's neck, it was impossible. This thing in his mouth and throat, now of its full size... why again were they in this damned alley, just before dawn?

Why weren't they at some place where he could simply seize his twin and rip the clothes from Gabe's body?

Where he could look at the scares and touch them while he spread his twin's legs apart.

Where he could enjoy every single, almost painfully tight inch while he would slowly push in deeper, before he finally thrust in forcefully.

Taking revenge. Or returning the favor. Both. It actually didn't matter, even if he were the one opening his legs. As long as there would be – more. As long as he could get rid of his pants and the maddening pressure in his groin.

He wasn't the only one. Gabe breathed faster and the pressure against Mike's jaws became stronger. Both twins were so painfully hard, but only Gabe's dick finally swelled a little bit more, and only Gabe finally gave a deep, suppressed groan. The fingers that were still buried into Mike's hair trembled.

'Man, hurry, this isn't a solo act!' Impatiently, he wanted to break free and get hold of his twin and take what belonged to him. Who gave a shit about the time and place.

He couldn't, the grip was still there, with all of its force and kept Mike under control.

The older twin looked up again.

The already bright, clear eyes were glazing over, but suddenly, Gabe grinned.

“Swallow it.”

Mike took a deep breath and a shudder ran down his spine, through the ends of his nerves, right into his groin. He didn't really dig this stuff. Swallowing wasn't something bad, it wasn't a drama, but there were other things in his life he enjoyed more. Until now, there hadn't been a reason to not just spit it out. Or to kiss his brother and give him his share. But well.

Closely watched by his twin, he began to swallow as well as he could. The viscous, salty liquid ran down his throat and didn't seem lessen. He knew this was just his imagination, it had never been that much, so it wouldn't be today as well. The stuff was disgusting, but this turned him on even more.

Touching... if Gabe would at least touch him! Being touched by his brother's hand would be all he needed right now, he wouldn't last for anything else anyway.

Finally, Gabe was satisfied with his twin and let him go. Mike leaned back and inhaled deeply. Still looking at Gabe, he slowly licked over his lips, catching a last drop.

“Sick jerk.” Mike grinned and stretched his arms, clenching his hands and releasing them again. The woman had died a little while ago – his fingers had cramped while still around her throat.

The blood already congealed under the markings of her skin. Not his problem. Careful not to stumble over his own stiff legs – and not to move a certain other stiff body part against the fabric of his pants more than necessary – he rose. Stepping over the corpse, he grabbed his brother.

“All right, little brother. I hope ya don't think I'll let ya get away with ya little prank.”

Both grinned. Gabe's hand moved over Mike's cheek, the hurting jaws and over the beard on his chin.

Impatiently, Mike seized him by the wrist and shoved the slender fingers deeper.

Bright light blinded them and both raised their arms to protect their eyes.

Mike blinked hectically, his brother quickly put back on his pants.

Through his narrowed eyes, Mike could catch sight of four bulky silhouettes and two sources of light – big, round headlamps.

They didn't see the guns pointed at them, and it wasn't necessary. The clicking, almost rattling noise from unlocking them was something they were familiar with.

To fight or not... but this was their freedom!

A few seconds and it was already too late, they had hesitated for too long. Two of the giants suddenly stood behind them and when the twins woke up from their paralyzes, there was nothing more they could do. Handcuffs and shackles clasped around their wrists and ankles; chains were put around their necks and tightened. Still dazzled by the light, they stumbled forward as they were pushed from behind.

The old chains. Mike hated them. They had just got rid of them, thanks to more luck than judgment.

Their big chance – wasted. Because of a dumb, easy whore. He felt like crying, but instead, he began to rant and to curse.

The world regained its shapes and colors slowly when they stood next to a long, black limousine. A door was opened.

“Are you finally ready, gentlemen? Well, then hurry. You! Make our runaways sit down with me, and fasten them down thoroughly!”

This voice... this hoarse, raspy voice.

“Fuck, the old hag...” Mike growled while one of her bodyguards tied his chains tightly to the seat. Another one did the same with Gabe, and two more of them still pointed their weapons at the twins' head, the finger at the trigger.

They wouldn't survive it when they tried something stupid, and they wouldn't even take one of them with them to hell. Even Mike was aware of that.

“Yes, the 'old hag', although I prefer 'Administrator'. Or simply 'Helen'.” The boss of the company the twins were 'working' for sat in front of them in person.

Her features were hard and unyielding as usual and only showed the slightest movement when she took a pull on her cigar. Satisfied with the aroma, she nodded at her men.

“It's good. Give the word that I want to depart, back to the headquarters. Meanwhile, you take care of the trash.”

Without a word, the men nodded and closed the doors.

Through the darkened glass of the window Mike could see how the four men returned to the alley. Their broad backs hindered his view.

Abruptly, the car began to move.

“I really have to tell him again... he has to release the clutch carefully. Atrocious. Skilled drivers are difficult to find.” She sighed, picked up a newspaper and began to read.

Gabe was already retreating into his own world, as he always did when he wasn't alone with his brother. Only a shadow was left from the young man who had been excited and aroused a little while ago.

Mike, though, was everything, but not calm.

“Well, well, old horny hag, did ya enjoy watching the show? Fucking hot, eh? Is that why ya have all this bondage shit with ya? Are ya up for an awesome fuck? How long has it been? 50 years? 70?”

The newspaper made a rustling sound when she turned a page. The Administrator kept reading without even lifting an eye.

“Don't flatter yourself too much, young man. For your information, I'm an old hag with knowledge of the human nature who never underestimates her fellow human beings. Even if they rather resemble primitive animals.”

Her calm attitude only irritated Mike more. This was worse than being ignored. Underestimated or not, either way, this woman didn't take him serious at all when she better should.

“Yeah, right, that's why ya cruising the streets in the middle of the night. Surely searching a whorehouse, yeah? A little side job, as undead-whore?”

These words didn't provoke her as well as Mike had hoped – or had wished. As if she had all time in thee worlds, she folded the newspaper and put it aside.

“My, my, haven't you learned any manners at all, in all this time? I'll have to talk with Sydney about that.” Completely at ease, with the authority only those humans possessed who had known and maintained the feeling of power for a long time, she removed a little fluff from her purple suit.

Next, she opened her briefcase. With a bored sighed, she checked a thin file.

“Michael, with all due respect for your skills as career adviser – it's true that a job brought me out tonight in this area of the city. However, it is a bit different than you assumed so charmingly.” She browsed through the first two pages and began to read out loud.

“Nicole Masters, that was her name. No, please let me finish, this saves all of us precious time. After I was given notice about your little... let's call it 'field trip', an old friend of mine called.”

Mike snorted and grumbled something about mummies and creatures that had unfortunately not drowned during the Flood. She ignored him and continued.

“To be honest, thanks to her I learned about the current location of my two runaways. Don't blame men,” she interrupted her explanation and gave Mike an amused look. “I'm not responsible when you two decide to act predictably. Where was I... ah yes! This young lady, Miss Masters, had irritated my old friend. And when you two were around anyway... You know, I don't like to owe people favors, especially not when I call them my friends. You don't need to know about the details and I'm only interested in the result. The target is dead, and you are back on your way to where you belong, gentlemen.”

She closed the fail and finished her report. After putting the documents back into her briefcase she focused again on the newspaper. For a moment, Mike stared at her, aghast.

A state that never lasted long with him and as usual he did what he preferred to do in a situation like this.

“Fucking shit! What was this crap about with this stupid cunt? And why did your witch knew where we were? FUCK YOU ALL! Fucking shit, that's what it is...” He paused at a sudden thought. A question burnt on his lips and the answer couldn't mean anything good. Anyway, it was humiliating to pay her talk any attention at all.

“Why... are you telling us all this?” His curiosity won. Angry with himself he held his breath and glanced at his twin.

The whole time, Gabe had been just sitting there – silent and motionless. Mike's shoulders dropped. Fighting was all they had. Except each other. Gabe was the way he was, and Mike didn't want him to be anything or anyone else. Sometimes, though, it would have been a lot easier if he hadn't been on his own in moments like this.

“Yes, why do I tell you all this.” Her mocking words brought him back to reality and he faced her again. Ice-blue eyes stared at dark ones.

“A good question, isn't it?”

Confused, he looked at her. Of course he wouldn't catch her revealing more to them than they needed to know. This woman knew what she was doing, if he liked it or not, and he was aware of it.

Her gaze wandered to the side. His eyes followed and again, he looked at his twin.

“Never free...”

“Gabe..” Both shocked about the fact that Gabe was talking at all and about the words themselves, Mike shook his head. He assumed more than he wanted to know, something that Gabe obviously was already fully aware of.

“And that's that.”

Even Mike, who wasn't interested at all in the moods and feeling of others couldn't miss how amused the Administrator was.

“Now stop looking so ridiculously baffled already, Michael. Of course you'll never be free. I have everything under my control. Yes, also you and your silent mirror image. Ah, what was it again...” she rolled up her eyes and tipped with her skinny, boney index finger against her temple, pretending to think very hard.

“Correct me in case I remember your words from earlier wrongly: 'Everybody who hears him talk will nicely kick the bucket, except me, of course. A question of honor, guess ya understand.'”

She laughed and Mike's blood ran cold. Since when had this witch been there and watched them? In the alley, earlier? Before they had entered the “Sweet Home”?

Slowly, he began to understand – more so, to feel – what 'never free' really meant. How did he wish he could simply leap at this old hag and wring her scrawny neck!

If she guessed his thought – and he was certain she did – she ignored it and simply talked on.

“Very amusing, indeed. Nice, really nice, this twins-thing. I'm fine with that. Just let me tell you one thing – should I really die through your hands one day, please make sure to improve the technique of your tongue until then, Mr. Connor. At my age, I don't have all day for you to finish, I assume you understand.”

“I know you don't.” Gabe remained on the floor and watched his twin calmly. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly; this faint hint of amusement would have astonished the rest of their team if they could have seen it. It was too rare in a face they had only known to be expressionless most of the time. Unless it glowed with angry, mad – to the point of hysterical – joy during a killing spree.

“Don't bet on it,” Mike growled at him, sounding less threatening and vicious than he wanted, thanks to the burning pain in his throat. He looked into the mirror above the sink and grimaced at the pale creature with the bloodshot eyes in front of him.

“Your face looks fucked up today,” Gabe commented while he followed Mike out of the small bathroom.

“Because I'm fucking sick, ya dumb, uncaring motherfucker!” He let himself fall onto his bed, facing the ceiling, and sighed when his stomach rumbled. “And hungry... damn it, Gabe, DON'T DO THAT!”

Gabe had sat down on the edge of the bed and was again mercilessly pressing his forefinger against Mike's abdomen.

“You are always hungry. You are sick because you eat weird stuff. That Sniper you like so much is sick, too. Both of you eat weird stuff all the time.”

“Thanks for ya opinion, Dr. Dumbass. That wasn't weird stuff today, that was just breakfast. And for the nth fucking time - I can't stand that pink faggot! Why do you know that he's sick anyway?” He tried to kick his brother from the bed, when he began to fill nauseous again. “Outta my way!” Abruptly, he jumped out of his bed and hurried back into the bathroom.

“That doctor talked about it after training,” Gabe called after Mike, not caring if he was heard over the choking noises.

February

Martin shook his head. With a skeptical frown, he browsed once more through the older twin's medical file.

“I'm sorry, Michael, but I'm really at a loss. When again did you say this started?”

“Are you retarded? Told ya already five times, ya damned idiot.” Frustrated, he bit into the piece of white bread the Medic had offered him. “Two weeks ago. Listen, retard, I'm gonna puke from this anyway! Give me real food, not that crap!” He chewed the dry bread angrily, ignoring the crumbs that fell on his blanket.

“Oh please, you are glad to receive some food at all,” Jean snorted, not taking his watchful eyes from the twins. “If I had any say in this unfortunate matter, I would not feed you.” The Tentaspy left it open if he meant Mike's sickness or the twins in general.

“He has already lost weight, Jean,” Martin said calmly , re-reading his notes again.

“Good, he was getting fat.”

“Eh, go and fuck ya fat dress-up doll, ya fuckin', rotten sprat! I'm in perfect shape! Take that stinky thing away and I'll show ya how perfect!” He threw the slice of bread at the Tentaspy and tried to free himself from the tentacle that was wrapped around his waist.

Jean remained unimpressed; Mike's fingernails didn't even left a scratch on the sturdy skin, and for effectively biting the long limp, the young man wasn't flexible enough. Besides, the teeth of a human would hardly have hurt him. Grinning amusedly, he watched Mike's fruitless struggle, of course while he still observed the second twin out of the corner of his eye.

“Jean, I have to agree with Michael here. It's astonishing - in spite of his unhealthy eating habits, his weight and his blood values have always been flawless.” The Medic shrugged. “Anyway, this is weird. Sydney had the same symptoms, starting at the same time. I assumed food poisoning, but Sydney has been better since last week. Strange, very strange. I will take another blood sample and run a few different tests. Please make sure they don't interrupt me.”

Mike's eyes widened in alarm and his struggle became stronger.

“Fuck you, nothing you'll take! Gabe! Dammit, ya son of a bitch, how about doin' something?” he snapped at Gabe who stood motionless next to his bed.

“Asshole, I'll get ya for that!”

Unlike the others, he hadn't missed the very small smile that had vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Worse enough that Gabe, too, wouldn't have been able to break free from the now tightening grip of the the Tentaspy. Gabe was amused by seeing his own twin suffer, and Mike was certain – the younger brother wouldn't have minded to pester him with a syringe himself. Gabe surely was in a sadistic mood lately. Mike wouldn't have minded at all, but thanks to the given circumstances, he found it all very irritating, especially this very moment.

“Uh, guys...”

“Oh non, do not tell me you have to...”

Before Jean could finish his sentence, Mike's body convulsed. Again, he emptied his stomach, but this time, a hint of glee lightened his eyes. Jean's frown of disgust deepened – of course this dreadful twin was delighted that now, the Spy's tentacle was soiled.

March

Jean and Martin exchanged another look; disbelief was written over their faces. The last few hours between the results, the Medic's talk with Sydney and this moment hadn't been enough for their minds to grasp the meaning.

The twins sat in front of them on the doctor's couch in the Medics office, Gabe with a bored, Mike with a sullen expression on his face. Being held in place and hindered from any sudden movements by Jean's tentacles had become a routine, and today was one of the rarer days when they didn't seem to be in the mood to fight back.

“How are you today, Mike?” Martin asked after Jean gave him a nudge in the back. The twin rolled his eyes.

“Same like ten minutes ago, when ya asked the last time. Dork,” he added, finding his answer not aggressive enough.

“Hm, yes, right.” The Medic put the file on his desk and stared at the older twin.

“Well, I guess,” he began and picked up the file again, “as we have a living Tenta in our team, created by humans, half man, half animal, which is still a fascinating subject in itself. It's astonishing how the cells have... what? Oh, sorry, Jean. Where was I...”

“Mentally jerking off to the image of that fish freak over there?” Mike suggested, his voice exaggeratedly sweet and polite.

“Yes, I mean no!” the Medic corrected himself when Jean disapprovingly cleared his throat.

“What I wanted to say, is, well... We've dealt with robots, zombies, chimeras. Extraordinary encounters. Keep this in mind when I tell you...” He took a deep breath, stepped forward and put his hand on Mike's shoulder.

“Michael, you are pregnant. Congratulation. I guess...”

The twins looked at each other, their faces blank. After a moment of silence, Mike slowly turned his head, facing the Medic with narrowed eyes.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think YOU CAN FUCK AROUND WITH ME?!”

Jean raised his eyebrows, wrapping his tentacles tighter around the twins. Gabe was only waiting for the signal from his brother. If Mike could, he would tear everyone to pieces with his bare hands, probably even his twin.

“Well, I don't intent to, but somebody else obviously did... Calm down, I didn't mean it, calm down,” he repeated several times, already taking a filled syringe from his desk. Mike was close to one of his rages, and if that happened, Gabe would snap, too. Even with the Tentaspy present, keeping the twins under control was never a pleasant deal.

“Michael, I ask you again to calm down,” Martin finally commanded sternly. “I would not like to inject more of this than necessary, it could be harmful to the baby.”

The older twins face grew pale and his mouth dropped open. He stopped struggling at once, gaping at the Medic in bewilderment.

“You are serious about this, aren't you?”

To hear the always so crude twin speak with this quiet, perplexed voice was as weird as the news they had just told him.

All of the sudden, Gabe, who had remained silent until now, started to giggle. An unexpected, almost childish sound. Helplessly, the younger twin was bending over the the tentacle that held him firmly. Without Jean's strong grip, he would probably have fallen from the couch and kept on laughing madly on the floor.

“Well,” Martin began his explanation, deciding to Gabe to himself and Jean's care for now, “yes, I am serious. The morning sickness, increased blood sedimentation, this extraordinarily high hcg value... but the x-ray image removed all doubts. I guess it was not... planned?”

“SHUT UP ALREADY, THAT'S NOT FUNNY, YA IDIOT!” Mike shouted at his brother, who was caught by another giggling fit. “And you, listen, ya dumbfucking asshole! If this is a sick joke, I'm gonna rip off ya freaking face and wipe my ass with it!”

“I'm afraid the usual means of cleaning yourself will have to do. I'm not joking. But I admit that it is unusual.” Martin smiled weakly, worrying for a moment about Gabe, who was close to hysterics. Well, he could use the sedative on the younger twin anytime, from what he knew no physical condition spoke against it, but after today, he wouldn't be surprised if he was mistaken.

“Twice unusual,” Jean interrupted the Medic's thoughts. The Tentaspy grinned at the doctor, revealing his sharp, pointy teeth. “Martin, tell him the rest of these amazing news.”

“Come on, brighten this shitty day,” the twin sighed. The anger suddenly disappeared, leaving a discouraged, almost scared looking Mike behind. “Do you change into a sparkling vampire-unicorn at midnight every full moon? What the fuck am I even saying here?!”

“Ah, the next indicator, mood swings. Anyway,” Martin hurried to continue when the older twin's face darkened again, “although I cannot tell you how this happened, maybe it comforts you to know that you are not alone. Dear God, this is really a weird case!”

“What do you mean, not alone?” Mike wasn't sure if he even wanted to know. He had had his fair share of bad news for one day, and hopefully, he would awake from this nightmare anytime.

“Mike, darling!”

The door flung open, and Sydney entered. His smile was even wider than usual, and his cheeks colored in a pink shade that ridiculously matched the color of his shirt. He was the perfect image of a man dripping with happiness and health. One hand rested on his flat stomach.

Gabe finally stopped giggling, his expression vacant, while Mike's eyes widened in horror.

“Oh no, ya don't...”

“Yes, my dear. Come here!” The Sniper squeezed past the Tentaspy and the Medic, and gave Mike a hearty hug. Then, he put one arm around the twin's shoulder, the other on the small part of Mike's stomach that wasn't covered by Jean's tentacle.

“Isn't that sweet, honey? Don't look so sad, I'm here for you, I'll help you. Together, we'll get through this. My, this is exciting! You should have seen Lukas' face, I thought the poor darling would faint any minute! Oh well, then again, you don't have something like that happen every day, right, sweetie? Expecting! Both of us! Do you think...”

Mike's face turned even paler. Desperately, he looked at his brother, but Gabe - his expression void of any emotion - only stared back. Mike's lips hardly moved when he whispered so only his twin could hear him.

“Somebody kill me.”

April

“Why is Barbie here? The herring said it's only 'bout those involved in this crap,” Mike complained and stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth.

“Who are you calling 'Barbie', ya insane jerk?!” Tyler flared up and jumped from his chair, but Sydney put a hand on the Scout's shoulder, earning himself a disapproving glare from Jean.

“Please, Ty, darling. No fighting. He doesn't mean it.”

“Ya can be sure, faggot, that I so mean it!” Mike spat, but Sydney ignored him and spoke on.

“I suggested this meeting as there are some things to say about, well, certain surprising developments.” With a wide smile, Sydney leaned back in his chair and folded his hands above his stomach.

“Therefore it is, of course, necessary that everyone involved is present. This includes, beside you, Mike-darling, and myself of course, Martin, as our doctor. Jean has to be here, too, well, you know why.” He shrugged and smiled apologetically at the twins.

Jean, who stood right behind the two young men, snorted, and patted each the twins with one of his tentacles on their shoulders. A reminder that they shouldn't even think of doing something stupid just because they were only held by handcuffs and shackles today.

“Well, separating you and your brother is impossible, so he's here, too. As for the others...” he continued, but was interrupted by Tyler.

“Dammit, Mike, could ya stop eating for just one fucking minute?” the Scout napped at the twin. “Put the bloody chips away!”

“Fuck off, bitch, I'm hungry.” His mouth still half full, he stuck his tongue out at Tyler.

“We just had breakfast, man!”

“So what? Ha, I got it! Ya jealous, 'cause the herring's touching me right now, instead of fucking ya precious ass!” Mike grinned, put the bag of chips on the table and stroke slowly over the tentacle that was still lying on his shoulder.

“Mhmm, so nice and slippery, just the way ya like it up ya fat butt, right? Ouch! Damn ya!” he cried out when the same tentacle was suddenly wrapped around his throat.

“Jean, my friend, I beg you,” Sydney sighed. Gathering everybody around one table was always so trying. “Be a bit considerate - our dear Mike isn't having an easy time and... uh, Mike, what flavor?” The Sniper's eyes rested on the bag of chips.

“Salt 'n vinegar. Hey, those are mine!” Mike protested when Sydney bent over the table.

“Come on, be a darling, honey. I love those!” With sheer delight, the Sniper put a hand into the bag.

“No, you don't, you hated chips until this very moment.” Jo, sitting next to her brother, snatched the bag away from Sydney and threw it carelessly behind her.

“Seriously, Sonny, you are worse than I was with Toby. Anyway, guys, what our dear Mr. Leader here wanted to say:

Two of you idiotic men somehow defied nature by getting pregnant, and every single one of us would rather die than missing any ridiculous detail about this. Please continue,” she finished generously, her frown telling Sydney he better came to the point before she lost her patience.

“Thanks, honey. So, Mike, this should be of interest for you. It was because of the cookies and Lukas is the father.” He smiled at his assistant whose face-color changed from pale eto a deep crimson.

“Wha... what?! Cookies, what cookies?! Lukas? What the fuck.. WHAT?!”

“Sonny, I have to agree with Mike. Thanks for not beating around the bush for once, but could you please at least try to make some fucking sense?” Jo shook her head while the other team-members stared at Lukas and Sydney in confusion. Matthew, who sat next to her, patted her on the back.

“Chill, lady, everything is fine. Let me help the dude out here.” He chuckled as he spoke on.

“I got a, uh, special ingredient from a good friend for Christmas, and made some of my special spaceflight cinnamon cookies... they, well, don't go well with everyone's digestive system, so to speak, because of the... side-effects. Man, next time, ask me before you eat my stuff, will you?” Wagging his finger, he winked at Sydney.

“We will talk about your special collection of recipes later, Matthew. However, Lukas, do you want to tell the rest of the story?” Sydney turned to his assistant and gave him an encouraging smile. Lukas shook his head frenetically.

“No need to be shy, darling. Oh, Jean, please be careful not to suffocate Mike. See, his face is already dark red.”

“I know what I am doing. Continue, mon ami, we do not have all day.” Jean rolled his eyes. But he also loosened the tentacle he had wrapped around Mike's head to prevent the now silently raging twin from interrupting Sydney's and Matthew's explanations.

“Well, to make a long story short – Lukas remembered first and told me, and as I heard his story, I remembered. Everyone probably remembers our lovely party on New Year's Eve. Well... The twins, I and Lukas were the last ones awake, and we kind of got hungry, and then we found those cookies...”

“Which means you were so drunk that you somehow got into Matthew's room, searched it for food, found the box, stole it and ate the content in harmony under the Christmas tree and party streamers?!”

“I would have used another choice of words, but yes, Jo, you are right, that's basically it.” Sydney nodded. “Well, obviously, some of the side-effects happened, and, hm, let me put it this way: Lukas, Mike and I shared some private time.”

“Whoa, wait a second! Ya ain't sayin' that dumb wimp had the nerve to fuck me?!” Mike had taken advantage of Jean's surprise – the grip of the tentacle had lost its strength and Mike could shove it down far enough to free his mouth.

“Be nice, honey. Don't you remember? I did, after Lukas told me. And from what I recall, it was a really lovely way to start the new year.” Dreamily, he smiled at Lukas, who kept staring at the table.

“Fuck, that... that's... sick! Ya goddamned motherfuckin' faggots!” Suddenly, his angry, confused expression changed to realization and hope, and he laughed hysterically.

“HA! Ya almost got me! Tell ya what, fuckers! Fuck ya bullshit, it's a lie, there's no way Gabe would have let this idiot... uh, Gabe?” He stopped laughing the moment he looked at his twin. Scowling angrily at Mike, Gabe shook his head.

“Gabriel?” Sydney raised his eyebrows. “Did you... know? I thought you were asleep.”

The younger twin, however, had already changed back to his indifferent self, his eyes and expression void of all human feelings.

“Don't bother,” Martin said, speaking for the first time since the meeting had started, when Sydney and Mike both kept persuading the younger twin to tell them more. “When he is like that, nothing and nobody can make him talk. Anyway, let me take over from here.

I won't bother you with the medical terms, and how unusual the results of the little, carnal get-together of the three gentlemen here are. Fact is, the drugs Matthew had added to his cookies not only affected the behavior. I know it's hard to believe. I have to admit, I have a hard time believing it myself. But the facts remain the same: we have two pregnant men, and the father of the unborn is Lukas,” the Medic concluded.

After Martin's lengthy explanation, it was not possible to return to a normal conversation. Everyone of the team-members – except Gabe – had to say something about the matter.

Sydney took the commotion with his usual cheerful countenance. He found the jokes of his team-mates about his state of a soon-to-be mom hilarious, or those about the remarkable, literal 'penetration power' of Lukas' body fluids.

The young Spy, however, didn't find any of this funny at all and his answers were short and nervous. He couldn't await the end of the meeting.

“Hey, why didn't ya tell me anything, ya traitor? What's wrong with ya lately?” Mike hissed at his twin while the Tentaspy shoved both of them out of the room. Sydney finally had decided it was enough for today.

“Maybe your baby brother is sick of ya behaving like a whore,” Tyler suggested sweetly. “Maybe he wants a divorce, so your bastard's uncle isn't also his step-daddy,” the Scout added, letting the usual spite return to his voice.

“I swear to God, asshole, one day, I'll kill and fuck ya so hard that ya won't... stop that, fucking jerk-fish!” Mike yelled when one of Jean's tentacle hit him hard on the back of his head.

“Yuck! Incest!” Tyler sneered in exaggerated disgust.

“Uuuh, yucky! Sofilelist!” Mike retorted.

“Zoophilist.”

“Thank ya so fucking much, Gabe, what would I do without ya.” Tired of all of this, all what Mike wanted, were his bed and another bag of chips.

May

“Careful, fucker, or I'll tell the pink fag ya tried to kill my baby,” Mike exclaimed in pretended indignation when he was rudely shoved into their room.

Jean only shrugged, closed the security doors of the twins' quarters and left. Mike growled after him, one hand on his now visibly rounded belly. Giving a last snort, he turned away from the door and walked over to Gabe's bed. Impatiently, he kicked against the frame.

“Hellooo, dumbass. I'm back. Lemme guess – ya haven't even noticed I was gone, right? Ya know, I've just got the most humiliating hour of my life behind me, thanks to that sick doctor. Ya could at least pretend ya care.”

His twin didn't react. Unimpressed, he continued reading, his back turned to his brother.

“Whatever. Is there some food left?”

He grinned happily when he found an untouched slice of bread with cheese and a small, to his surprise still full bowl with chocolate pudding on Gabe's tray. Perfect, just the kind of combination he was after. If they also gave him some beer, the meal would have been even more perfect.

A frown appeared on his face.

“Assholes.”

He had thought they were kidding when they told him that he wasn't allowed any alcohol until this was over. Unfortunately, like several other times the last months, he had to realize that the more ridiculous the news were, the less high were the odds they were joking.

“Hope ya weren't saving that for later.” Not waiting for an answer he didn't expect to come anyway, he spread the content of the bowl on the bread and cheese.

“Ya know, ya really making me sick. Which pisses me off, 'cause I'm already fuckin' sick every fuckin' morning,” Mike complained, calmly though, with his mouth full. He sat down on his bed, watching his brother's unmoved face.

“Do I have to beat ya up and rape ya ass so ya'll talk to me again? What in fuck's name is ya problem? Ya have hardly been talking to me since New Year's Eve. And ya haven't said anything at all since that bloody meeting.” He finished the rest of his improvised sandwich with one last, large bite and wiped his hands on his blanket.

“Gabe! Gaaabe! I'm talking to ya! Dammit, man, what's ya problem?”

“He said you are cute.”

“Eh... what?” Mike had tried in vain to make Gabe talk to him so often lately, that receiving an answer alone caught him completely off guard. The answer itself was even more confusing.

“He said you are cute,” Gabe repeated with exactly the same, casual tone of his voice as before. He was still reading.

“Who?”

“That Sniper.”

Mike gave a snort.

“Bullshit.”

“The incompetent Spy agreed. While he fucked you.” With the book in his hands, Gabe turned around, so Mike faced his back again.

“Whoa, wait, man! Are ya kidding me... forget it, of course ya ain't.” Mike sighed exasperatedly; Gabe had his own, skewed sense humor, but fooling him by lying and making up stories was not his way.

However, like many times before, he was glad he couldn't recall what had happened that night. The by now definitely undeniable result was horrible enough, having those stupid idiots involved didn't make it any better. He could gladly live on without the details.

“And why, just out of curiosity, my dear brother... WHY THE FUCK ARE YA ANGRY WITH ME ABOUT THAT SHIT?! Damn you, I was HIGH! They RAPED me!” he shouted irately.

“He fucked you slowly, and they called you cute, and you smiled and the Sniper kissed you, and you kept on smiling. Rape is different,” Gabe explained, still sounding indifferent and calm. Mike knew better. The way his twin's shoulders were tensed up, the way he turned the pages of his book – Gabe was mad as hell at him. Mike just didn't really understand why.

“I don't get it, man. Ya've watched me fucking others millions of time. A few times, others fucked me. And I fuckin' enjoyed it. Ya never had a problem with that. Hell, often enough, it got ya horny. In a way,” he added. In that regard, Gabe was different from others, too. Who was he kidding - Gabe had his own way of seeing and feeling things in most regards.

Mike stood up and stretched. For a few days now, along with his growing belly, his back had began to hurt.

His shoulders hurt as well; he had slept in a weird position this night. But he swore to God, Satan, or whoever was in charge – if Sydney tried a second time to give him a massage – with this disgustingly smelling massage oil – he'd break the Sniper's skull.

He walked around the beds and, once he stood in front of Gabe, bent over him and snatched the book away from his brother. He tossed it across the room. It crashed against the wall and fell to the floor.

Finally, Gabe showed an reaction.

He leaped his bed. Giving his brother a forceful push, he sent Mike to the floor as well. A punch hit Mike’s face hard.

“Fuck ya!” Mike cried out, holding his hand in front of his bleeding nose. Before he could fight back, his twin had already let go of him. Gabe picked up his book and sat down on his bed, watching his brother closely.

“Are you hurt?”

“Ya fucker, my nose is bleeding!”

“Will you hit it?”

“Why the fuck should I hit my nose? Are you retarded?” Scowling at his brother, Mike stood up and searched their desk for something he could use to wipe off the blood. The scarf he found belonged to Gabe – the better! But, of course, Gabe didn't care.

“Your child,” the younger twin said calmly when Mike was focusing on him again.

“You know. Like... others did... other children... back then.”

A shadow seemed to darken Mike's face.

“How dare you?” Glowering, his voice low, almost a whisper, he walked up to Gabe. “How dare you! I'm NOT like him! I TOLD you, I'm NOT LIKE HIM!” he finally shouted.

He seized Gabe by his throat, wrapping his fingers around it. Fiercely, he began to shake him, the pressure of his grip becoming stronger until his twin choked and coughed. However, Gabe remained silent while his brother yelled at him. He didn't even try to fight.

“NEVER say that again! NEVER! ASSHOLE! YA FUCKIN' ASSHOLE!”

When his brother's eyes began to roll up, he let finally go of him.

“Don't say that again. Don't!” Mike repeated, panting heavily, while Gabe kept on coughing, trying to recover his breath.

“I don't know why I smiled. I don't remember anything. No idea what was in my head. Not those losers, Gabe, certainly not them!” the older twin rambled on, and his brother listened, more and more alerted.

“You... you are crying!” Gabe finally burst out in bewilderment, almost scared at the sight.

“Dumbass, I NEVER cry!” Mike shouted at him, using the scarf again, this time, to wipe his entire face. “I'm a goddamned man, they fuckin' fear me! I slaughtered more motherfuckers than all of them together! I'M NOT CRYING!”

“You are not.” With that, Gabe picked up his book once more and ignored his brother completely. He also didn't react when Mike threw the bloody and wet scarf at him.

“I hate chocolate pudding,” Gabe said once Mike had curled up on his bed.

“Good for you, because I'll eat yours next time, too, either way.”

June

“DON'T POKE ME!”

Disgruntled, Mike lunged out at his twin, but Gabe was quicker. He rolled away from Mike and jumped out of the bed. Mike wanted to go after him, but had trouble to move as swiftly as his brother.

“If I see another bruise from ya ugly finger on this I'll bite ya hand off!” Mike hissed, pointing at his round belly. For now, he decided Gabe was too childish to be worth dealing with, so he stopped struggling against his own body and let himself fall back onto the mattress.

“Mike?” came a curious voice from the other side of the room. The older twin imagined how his brother sat on the desk, watching him carefully, as he often did lately.

“What?”

“Training without you is boring. I want to kill you.”

“How old are ya? Five? Stop whining like a baby. Do ya think I don't miss punching ya stupid face? Don't think it's fun, standing there and watching ya work out with the freaky fish-nanny at my neck!”

“Okay. Mike?”

“What now?”

“How did you do that? Men can't have children.”

Mike turned his head, facing his brother. He had been right – Gabe was sitting on the desk, the elbows on his upper legs and his chin in his hands, and was looking at him. The older twin shrugged.

“Obviously, they can. Stupid question,” he brushed it off.

“Only men and women can have children, not a man with a man,” Gabe continued, annoying Mike with what the older brother called a patronizing tone.

“Bullshit,” he snapped stubbornly. “Women get knocked up when fucking. We fuck all the time. Those assholes... ya know - I got fucked and now this.” Again, he pointed at his belly. It had grown a lot during the last weeks, and his back was bothering him more and more. It also had become more difficult to find a comfortable position when he wanted to sleep.

“That's not logical.”

“Shut up, it's logical as fuck, get it into ya thick head, fuck nut!” Mike growled and grimaced at his brother.

“I'll poke you when you sleep.”

“Asshole.”

*

A few rooms further, Sydney chuckled.

“Sometimes, it's difficult to believe that those precious, immature kids are cold-blooded serial killers in their 20s.” Smiling sadly, he took a sip of his tea.

“Michael's logic is difficult to argue, isn't it?” Martin said, glancing at the monitor Sydney had set his eyes on over the last 20 minutes. The twins were again arguing, but not in a hostile way. Decisively, he switched it off, and with a quick movement, he pulled the headphones from Sydney's head.

“Ouch, darling, be careful! My hair... Why would you stop monitoring them?”

“You know that the cameras are still on and that everything is recorded, just in case. Respect their privacy. How is your back?” the Medic inquired. Sydney stretched carefully, almost upsetting the teacup he still held in his hand.

“Better, thanks to the magic lotion you gave me. Too bad that Mike here refused to let me share it.” He chuckled again. “Anyway, Martin, it's not your first lecture, about me not invading their personal space too much. Honey, admit it, you kinda like them, too!”

“Or I'm just lacking your habit of being curious to the disturbing point of being voyeuristic,” Martin replied coldly. “Now, please finish your tea, I have to maintain the zombie.”

“How is precious Will doing anyway?” Sydney asked and got up from the Medic's comfortable leather chair – slowly, shielding his round belly carefully, preventing from bumping with it against the desk.

“Fine, as usual. He only needs his regular dose of liquids, that's all.”

“Hey, Doc, O'Conner sends me. Gimme some aspirin. 'The working stuff', he said.”

Sydney and Martin gave a start when the door was suddenly thrown open and Tyler barged into the room.

“O'Conner? Did he drink too much last night again?” the Medic asked, narrowing his eyes disapprovingly. But he opened one of the cabinets and, with even looking, selected a small bottle containing several white pills. He removed two of them and put them into Tyler's opened hand.

“Here, and tell him to drink them with water, not whiskey or rum,” he advised the Scout sternly.

“Will do. Damn, Syd, ya looking like ya've swallowed a pink watermelon.” Tyler's mouth twitched, his expression a mix of amusement and bewildered revulsion. He still hadn't gotten used to it – the sight and the idea of two guys carrying a child in their... yes, in their what?

“Say,” he began hesitantly when Sydney only laughed at his remark, “I don't wanna be, uh, impolite, or hear too many details... but how the fuck does it work? Where does it... grow?! It's not like you have, uh... like a woman. You know what I mean! Seriously, I don't get it.” He shook his head in confusion.

“Wait, Sydney!” The Medic raised a hand, gesturing the Sniper to remain silent for now.

“Tyler,” he turned to the Scout. “Remember the last time we had a little talk? About anatomy?”

“What do ya mean?” The young man moved back, suddenly feeling uncomfortably when the Medic stared directly into his eyes.

“Ah! Yeah, that talk!” Sydney snorted in amusement.

“Sydney, please. Tyler, remember! When things were getting serious with the Tentaspy...”

“Yes, and you were all nervous for a few days, you know, when I saw you two kissing... accidentally, of course - I was not spying on you!” Sydney insisted, giving another laugh as Tyler's cheeks suddenly blushed.

“Sydney and I decided it was time to give you the talk.”

“I got it, guys, uh, O'Conner is waiting. I better...” Smiling nervously, Tyler backed away from the two men, moving towards the door. Sydney, however, put an arm around the young man's shoulder, proudly patting his own, new and voluminous curves.

“It was in your own interest, sweetie. To know how Jean, a full-grown man and Tentaspy, works. All this anatomical stuff, like, how does a Tenta have sex, his reproductive organs, where is his dick anyway, what does a Tenta like... or like to do...”

“And of course, contraception is always important. Even if it's not very likely, after modifying his genes to the extreme, there is always a small chance of impregnating him. Or you risk to look,” Martin continued, pointing at the Scout's flat abdomen, that was conveniently revealed by a short top.

“...Like Sydney here,” the Medic added. “Only with a dozen of eggs, instead of one baby.”

“Stop it, motherfucker, just stop!” Tyler became paler with every word, looking miserable.

“Anyway,” Sydney took over, chuckling. “It had confused you so much - especially when Martin showed you a few anatomical drawings - you almost threw up. You didn't speak with Jean for five days! The poor baby, he never knew what was wrong.” By now, the Sniper had a hard time to suppress a laughing fit.

“Seriously, go and fuck a porcupine!” Tyler snarled at them, pushing them away. “Remind me to never ask you something again!” Angrily, he went out and slammed the door shut.

Finally, Sydney could release his laughter. Holding his belly, he bellowed with laughter for a few minutes, wiping several tears from his face with his other hand.

“This won't harm the baby, will it?” he asked Martin after he had calmed down again.

“Laughing? Not at all. It's said that a happy expectant mother has a good influence of the newborn's mental health. Well, I assume that also applies for a happy expectant father,” Martin reassured him.

“Good. Well, I'll leave you now. Tell Will I said 'hello', yes? Oh, and Martin?” Sydney turned around again after he had almost walked through the door.

“I don't remember the last part. Is it true? Is there a chance of Jean or Tyler – or even both – getting pregnant when they have some fun?”

“Of course not! Do you really think I wouldn't have taken a more keen interest in their relationship if that was the case?” Martin snorted, shaking his head when Sydney laughed again.

“Good. But why making up such a story? Honey, are you a prankster after all?”

“No. I just hate it when people dash into my room without knocking. Or when they don't leave when I'm busy. Off with you! And no slacking off with the antenatal exercises!”

July

“Here's the ventilator you've asked for. Dammit, Sonny, don't you think, too, you are overdoing it just a liiiittle bit?!”

“Not all at, sweetie! Please, be a dear and plug it in, will you? I'm so busy right now.” Sydney smiled widely at his sister and bent eagerly over the paperwork in front of them.

“Busy, my ass. Just admit finally that it is not as easy to move as you thought it would be!” Jo grumbled, searching the room for free socket.

“Honestly... I know it's summer and freakin' hot, but four ventilators? Damn, it's actually chilly in here!”

“No idea what you are talking about, love. I'm as flexible as any boy in his 20s. Ah, thank you! Now, the temperature is lovely!” With a grateful grin, Sydney leaned back in his chair and wiped a thin layer of sweat from his forehead. He fanned his face and his impressively large, round stomach with a slim file folder he had picked up from his desk.

“Only that you are not in your 20s, but 30s, and looking like you've swallowed two bowling balls.” Jo chuckled. “By the way, a certain, seven years old soon-to-be cousin asked me some questions that are not easy to explain. I told him to ask his uncle. I promise you, I'll so be there when he comes to see you later.”

Sydney wasn't concerned at all. He laughed and adjusted the level of one of the ventilators standing on his table.

“Better,” he commented when the air draft was strong enough to move his hair. The sound, too, increased, and he had to raise his voice.

“I don't mind at all. Toby is a clever kid, the cutie will understand.”

“Pah,” Jo snorted, “then he'll be the first of us who really understands. It's still crazy.” She shrugged. “But that's how things usually are once you are involved. Damn, why don't you just go belly-free when it's too warm for you? Like Ty? Or Mike, “she added with a grin.

“And waste the opportunity to wear those lovely clothes?” Delighted, he looked at the fabric that covered his rounded abdomen tightly. It was pink of course, and white lines created a leopard pattern.

“It's sooo difficult to find appropriate clothes for my condition in my size. It's custom made. Have you seen the other shirts? The one in fuchsia, with the...”

“Don't care! Sorry, I can imagine less weird things than discussing the maternity fashion of my pregnant brother. Which sounds more absurd with every time I say it! See you at dinner!” she brushed him off rudely, knowing this was her only chance to escape a passionate speech about Sydney's wardrobe and the fifty shades of pink it was colored.

“Tsk, dear, you don't know what you are missing,” Sydney laughed. “But don't worry, next time you need them, I'll happily pass them on!” he called after her when she left his office. For a moment, he closed his eyes, enjoying the refreshing blow. It was a really hot today, and he wondered if Jo's advice about showing some skin wasn't maybe so bad. On the other hand, the shirt was just too adorable to be not shown in its full beauty. Maybe he should just ask for a fifth ventilator.

The telephone rang.

Without opening his eyes, he felt for the receiver.

“Central of heat and passion, how can I brighten your day? Ah, Martin! What is... On my way!”

Quickly, he put the receiver down.

He tried in vain to push himself out of the chair two times. Flinching, he picked up the receiver again and dialed two numbers.

“Lukas? Honey, please, I need your help, quickly!”

*

“Fuck, no! Keep those idiots away from me!” Mike groaned in despair when Sydney and Lukas arrived at the Medic's office.

“Mike, sweetie, are you all right?” Sydney was genuinely worried. The twin's face was too pale, the eyes too wide, and sweat was running down his temples. Even now, as he lay stretched out on the Medic's couch, the Sniper saw how Mike's hands trembled.

“I was fucking fine before you bastards did THAT to me!” he growled, putting his hands on his large, bare belly. He had refused loudly and violently when Sydney tried to convince him to exchange his usual, black shirts for longer, wider ones. For a while now, Mike’s clothes had simply been too short to cover more than half of his torso.

“Martin?” Lukas turned quietly to the Medic. Silently, Martin was standing next to the twin. He had just finished inserting the needle and adjusting the tube leading to an IV bag. At Lukas' question, he raised his head.

“He is indeed not fine, but not in danger. Yet. A commotion coming from their room caught my attention, and when I checked the monitor, he had already collapsed.”

“The heat?” Sydney inquired sympathetically. Although he didn't show it, Mike's condition alarmed him. Usually, neither of the twins would lie still when somebody approached them with a needle.

“No, the temperature in their quarters is agreeable. Anyway,” he continued, choosing to ignore Sydney's mumbled “Agreeable for you, maybe.”.

“There's another problem. This had to happen sooner or later. The child is growing rapidly, and as men, your bodies are simply not built for this. Your babies don't have enough room, so they push against your organs with far more pressure than it would inside of a woman.”

“Ya saying the brat is killing me from inside, crushing my guts?” Mike suddenly grinned. “Wicked. I kinda start to like the bastard.”

“Oh, come on, darling. Of course you already love the little wonder, how couldn't you?”

“Piss off, fag, or I'll crush ya from the outside!” Mike hissed when Sydney put a hand on the twin's stomach. He sat up, to enforce his threat, groaned, and lay down again.

“Calm down, Mike,” the Medic commanded. “And you, Sydney, give him a break. His low blood pressure had worried me for a while, but what really made him collapse was pain. I have no idea how long he has endured it until his body couldn't take it anymore. Sydney, I need you to be honest. Any strong pains?”

Sydney looked again at the pale twin. He couldn't remember when he had seen Mike's face distorted with pain the last time, or if at all. Slowly, he nodded.

“I have to admit, my left kidney and my stomach trouble me a bit. Although not that much that I thought it was of importance.”

“I see.” Martin nodded. “Listen closely, this is not an advice, but my order. Do not move around more than necessary! If you feel uncomfortable pressure against any of your organs, shift your body. If it doesn't get better, call me at once. Sydney, no walking around, no running, jumping, hopping, dancing. I'd confine you to your bed, but knowing you... but please, don't overdo it. Try to sit or lie in one place as long as possible. Well, Mike...” Sighing, he looked at the twin.

“If I keep you here, your brother will probably snap.”

“I warn ya, asshole, if that fucking squid lays only one of his stinkin' tentacles on him, I'll...”

“Please, Mike, being upset is not good for you at all,” Martin said calmly. “I have my hands full with you and Sydney and your babies. Your twin, hurt by Jean or himself, is the last thing I want to deal with. Sydney, I know, as our boss you have the final say in this, but I strongly advice to return Mike to their room as soon as possible. The stress of separating them is neither good for Gabriel, nor Michael, nor the child.”

“Of course, dear. I trust your judgment completely,” Sydney assured him. “Where is Gabe now?”

“In their room. Jean is with him.”

“Good. I'll go back to my office and give Lukas the necessary instructions to take over. Is that okay, honey?” he asked and smiled when Lukas nodded.

“Do that. Lukas, I leave it to your responsibility to see that Sydney does as I told him. If you think something is wrong, call me, no matter what he says. Fine. That's it, you can go now.” With a critical frown, he felt for the pulse of the unusual tame twin.

“Could be better, but if you can stand, I'll take you back to your brother.”

“Of course I can stand, do I look like an idiot? Let me go at once, or I’ll shove the fucking needle into your eye. And I fucking swear, if I don’t get my sandwich soon, ya all are gonna regret it!” “Oh, good, you are definitely better.”

August

Restlessly, Gabe's eyes wandered over the desk. He picked up the pencils and arranged them neatly, in exact the same order as before. Next, he continued with the books, this time, sorting them by the number of their pages.

“Ya pissin' me off, man!” Mike called from his bed when his twin turned away from the desk and began to pace through the room.

“Gabe, come over here!” He grinned when his brother followed his order at once. He liked it when Gabe was stubborn and reluctant, but from time to time, obedient was very nice, too.

Once Gabe was close enough, Mike took hold of his brother's wrist and pulled him down, close enough to grab his hair.

“Fuck me!” he growled lowly, but Gabe's obedience ended here.

Abruptly, he turned away from his twin, not caring when Mike accidentally pulled out some of his hair.

“Come ooon, man! I'm horny!” Mike grimaced towards the ceiling, drumming on the mattress with his fists in frustration.

Gabe ignored him and focused on the desk again.

“Unfair bastard. If I could, I'd just stand up and take ya!”

“It could kill you,” his twin stated, not even looking at him.

“Best way to die ever.” Mike grinned widely. “For a genius you are dumb, man. What's that fuckin' respawn thing good for if we don't make use of it? Ya usually don't mind killing me, ya remember?”

“They said you must not die now. It's not safe. After the birth, you can again.”

“Fuck you! Since when do we care about their bullshit?” Mike reached for his brother's pillow and threw it roughly in his direction. As he didn't lift his head, his aim was way off. Without a word, Gabe picked the pillow up and put it back on his bed, careful that its edges were parallel to the edges of the mattress.

“Fuck! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Gabe! GABE!”

Gabe frowned.

“Pain?”

“No, man! The bastard is kicking me! Again! Ey, ya coward! Come out there and fight like a man!”

With crossed legs, Gabe sat down on his bed, watching his brother who continued cursing the unborn child. Slowly, he reached out his hand, laying it hesitantly on Mike's large stomach.

“Damn, ya fingers are cold as dead shit,” Mike scoffed, trying not to show how much he enjoyed the touch.

Gabe twitched back when he felt a sudden movement under Mike's abdominal wall, but Mike held his twin's hand in place.

“Don't be a bitch, Gabe. Gimme at least a blow job!” he demanded.

“Jerk off yourself,” Gabe refused, trying to pull away from his brother's grip.

“Smartass, that fuckin' thing is in my way! Can hardly reach my own damn dick! Do you have any fuckin' idea how much I'm sufferin' here?”

Lately, Mike's behavior irritated the younger twin. Whiny and pitiful, that was not typical for his brother, and he wasn't sure if he liked to see him like that. Pathetic and... helpless.

A faint, sadistic smile appeared on his face. With one vigorous jerk, broke free from Mike's hand.

“Suck me off,” he said coldly, raising to his knees.

“Fuck ya, asshole! Piss off, count your books or pencils or go and die!”

“You can't fight back, you know that.” Now, Gabe definitely grinned, one hand opening his belt, the other grabbing Mike's hair. The older twin raised his eyebrows. Then he grinned, too.

“Ya know, sometimes I hate you a little bit less.”

*

“Thanks, dear, I really appreciate how caring you are.” Gratefully, he smiled at his sister who had stuffed another cushion behind his back.

“Whatever. You are getting pesky, dear brother. That was the fifth time today you called for me to get you this shit, get you that shit. I've other things to do than babysitting you!” Jo crossed her arms and shot a disapproving look at her brother, who lay comfortably on the couch in his office snuggled happily against the pile of cushions.

Sydney, however, didn't take her complaint to heart. He had taken up his knitting again, humming to himself.

“Oh, wait!” he interrupted himself. “Jo, darling, I wanted to make a pair of baby socks for Mike. I need black wool, would you...”

“NO!”

“But, Jo...!”

But she had already left, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Do not even think of it, Sydney,” Jean warned him with a growl when Sydney turned to him with a pleading smile.

“My, give a poor, suffering soul the chance to be a bit useful, won't you?” Sydney sighed and continued knitting, his high spirit dampened.

“By making everyone else less useful, because we have to play errand boys for you, is not effective,” the Tentaspy remarked dryly.

“Well, if you let Tyler assist me...”

“Non!” Jean frowned, the ends of his tentacles twitching irritatedly. “He is already busy enough without waiting on you and your whims.”

“Alright, alright, darling. I'll make pink ones for Mike, too.” Sydney sighed again, eying the progress of his needlework with a satisfied nod. “He will probably not care much about the color anyway, right?”

The Tentaspy said nothing. Sometimes, he wondered if Sydney really believed that the twins would really care about anything the Sniper did for them, let alone appreciating it, or even be grateful.

“Anyway, Jean, dear,” Sydney continued, “how are they coping? Martin already confirmed that Mike's health is fine so far, given the circumstances. But how are they taking it in general these days? Oh, Lukas, you are an angel!” he greeted his assistant when Lukas pushed the door open with his back. In one hand, he held a selection of magazines – fashion, if Jean wasn't mistaken – and with the other, a tray with two cups and a tea pot.

Watching Lukas balancing the tray, closing the door behind him while he keenly listened to the torrent of joyful exclamations from Sydney was too amusing. Jean chuckled. He had still enough time to help in case Lukas dropped something.

“Well,” he began when the Sniper had finally stopped talking, a cup of steaming, hot herbal tee in his hands. “Considering that the twins are apparently the only ones you haven't enslaved, they are doing quite well. Mike is surprisingly calm.”

“I see. He must really be in pain, if he follows Martin's order so willingly,” Sydney said. “How about Gabe?”

Jean shrugged, accepting the cup of tea Lukas offered him with a gracious nod.

“The boy is restless,” he stated between two sips. “He already was when he had to work out without his brother. It's not like he is very aggressive, not yet.” Jean paused a moment, thinking of how to explain his observations.

“He's like a caged animal. I'm certain it would be worse if we separated them for longer than maybe half an hour. However, when he's awake, he cannot sit or stand still. He paces through the room, cleans up their belongings, puts things in perfect order...”

“So he's acting compulsively again. Poor boy, so nervous and bored...”

“Pah! Poor, schmoor!” Jean sneered in disgust. “If you asked me, I'd give order to sedate both of them strongly enough so they'd sleep the rest of the year!”

“Jean, be a bit more understanding. Mike had suffered more during the last months than I did. He never stopped being sick, he's practically immobile because of pain. And poor Gabe, he can't do anyhing to help his dear brother.”

“Pah!” Jean scoffed again. He hadn't been speaking about this ridiculous pregnancy; as far as he was concerned, he wouldn't complain if Martin injected enough drugs into their bloodstream to make them as harmless and useless as Will, the Zombie. Forever. As he knew how Sydney thought about that, he kept his opinion to himself.

“Anyway,” the Tentaspy changed the topic. “If this is all, I'll take my leave for now. I am needed elsewhere.”

“Ah, is it already time for Ty to return from his errand? Good. See you later, honey!” He waved after the Jean with one knitting needle. Once he had finished his tea, he had taken up the half-finished sock again.

“Lukas, love, are you busy?” he asked and glanced at his assistant out of the corner of his eye, smiling slyly.

“N...no. Is there something you need, boss?” Lukas looked up from the report he was writing on.

“When your son, or daughter, is finally here, I hope you won't keep calling me boss in his – or her – presence,” Sydney chuckled. “But yes, now that you mention it, there is something I need, indeed!”

With the end of the knitting needle, he pointed at his wiggling feet.

“They've been pins and needles all day, as if they were about to go numb any moment. Do you think, only maybe, if you are not too busy, you could give me a little massage?” He gave him a bright, delighted smile. “I'd ask one of the others, but your hands feel just too wonderful!” he added, but Lukas had already jumped up from his chair and taken place at the end of Sydney's couch.

September

The nights of the remaining weeks of summer weren't as hot as they had been a month ago anymore. Sleeping had become much easier.

Sydney, however, lay awake. Two ventilators were running in his bedroom, and their sound as well as his aching body hadn't let him sleep properly for a while now. Light hurt his eyes, so he blinked into the darkness. Lying on his back, he waited until exhaustion would finally be stronger than the droning sound in his ears and the hurting of his bones and muscles. Lately, he also found it difficult to breathe if he lay or sat or stood too long in the same position.

The growing life inside of him reminded him every second of every day of its existence. Random, uncontrollable kicks, as light as they might have been, against his inner organs increased the feeling of discomfort.

After another hour, Sydney gave up. Slowly, very slowly, so that the weight of the child didn't accidentally crush his kidneys or pinched off the aorta again – he remembered the life-threatening incident from a few days ago with a shudder – he stood up.

Still feeling drowsy, he dialed a number on his room telephone. He had to wait a moment until his call was finally answered.

“Martin? I'm sorry I woke you up.”

The Medic's voice at the other end sounded as tired as he felt.

“Yes, I think you were right yesterday,” Sydney answered Martin's question. “It's getting really dangerous.”

*

“Gabriel, I want to help your brother!” The Medic rubbed his temples, feeling a headache approaching. “Why is that so difficult to understand for you?”

“Because ya are an asshole. All doctors are. Everyone of this fucked up fag-club here is!” Mike hissed, flinching when the doctor inspected his swollen abdomen carefully.

“You shouldn't encourage these ideas, Michael,” Martin scolded him irritatedly. “After all, without this 'fag-club' – you and your brother are members of it, by the way – your fate would have been quite different. You should be grateful.” The Medic was still tired, a circumstance that always robbed him of what little humor and understanding he had for others.

“Grateful, my ass! Ya piss-heads have turned me into a freak! Like that thing!” Mike turned his head towards Jean and flinched. The abrupt movement made him feel dizzy.

As usual, the Tentaspy didn't heed Mike's insults any attention. His job was to keep the struggling twin of the rude patient under control, caring about anything Mike did or said he considered to be below his standards.

“Unfortunately, I cannot pride myself making him. Alright. Lukas, help me, please!”

“Oh no, the wimp's here, too? Fucking beautiful,” the older twin groaned when the pale, quiet Spy stepped into his field of vision. “Fuck off, assholes! Don't ya dare to touch me!” he shouted when Martin and Lukas seized him by his arms and carefully lifted them up.

“Fuck, I think I'm gonna...” Mike's world was spinning. He had spent the last weeks mostly lying on his bed, suddenly standing – or rather, hanging – in an upright position between the other two men didn't agree well with his low blood pressure.

“Don't collapse now,” Martin warned him. “Do you feel sick? Are you going to throw up?”

“If I do, ya'll be the first to feel it, ya can be sure of that, fucker!”

“I'm sure of that indeed. Anyway, you can lie down again in a minute. I'll remove the baby now.”

“What? What does that mean?” In genuine surprise, Mike forgot to swear.

“Well, I'll give you a local anesthesia, and remove the child from your body. A safe, surgical procedure, it's called a C-section,” the Medic explained when Mike was still confused.

“Just a fuckin' minute, ya think I'm gonna let ya cut me open?” Mike gave an angry laugh, and started to struggle against the grips that held him. “Fuck, no!”

But Lukas and Martin had expected him to try and get away sooner or later. Fortunately, the pregnancy had weakened the twin - he was a lot easier to handle than he would have been under normal circumstances.

“Mike. Mike! Michael! God, do I have to slap you?” The Medic was getting more and more impatient with the panicking twin. But Mike's efforts to fight the two men already lessened. Martin wasn't sure if the child in the young man's body was causing him too much pain again, or if Mike calmed down because Gabe – still secured by Jean's tentacles – was following along with the Tentaspy.

“Mike, of course I have to make a cut. Please, humor me – what do you think? How else do you, as a man, want to deliver a baby that weights more than six pounds?”

“Eh...”

“Thought so. Well then, let's go.”

*

“GABE! FUCK! Do something! THEY ARE KILLING ME!”

“Mike, calm down. Please, calm down! I try what I can to save you!”

“Mike, darling, please, we'll try everything, everything, you hear me?”

“Sydney, for one thing, I am the doctor here. And for another thing, I'm no sure if you should really be here and see this. You are next after all...”

“MIKE! MIKE!”

“I swear, if that brat tries to bite me again, I'll crush his ribs.”

“Jean, honey, be a bit more sympathetic. After all, his brother...”

Sydney found it hard to keep up his smile. The situation didn't look good at all. The child wasn't delivered yet, and Mike's blood kept dripping to the floor, adding to the growing, dark red puddle under the operating table.

He wasn't a doctor, but even the Sniper could see that this wasn't good. Yes, Martin was right. He was next, and what he was witnessing right now should worry him sick. However, he didn't worry about himself so much. Mike, though...

The twin's face was pale and his lips were already changing to a translucent, bluish color.

And the blood kept dripping.

Martin's face was pale, too. No matter how calm his words sounded, his body spoke a different language.

The worst sight of all was Gabe. Sydney had never fully understood it, but there was this special bond between the twins. They probably knew what the other one was thinking or feeling before they knew for themselves.

Something in Gabe's eyes was dying.

“Ahem,” Jean cleared his throat. “Gentlemen?”

“Gabe, he'll be fine, Martin will do his best. I promise you that, sweetie,” Sydney tried to comfort the younger twin who had suddenly stopped to move. Mike's curses had stopped, too. He wasn't even groaning anymore. His breathing was slow and heavy.

“Gentlemen, I beg your pardon...”

“Sydney, I told you, I'm the doctor her, don't make promises I cannot keep.”

“Martin, I trust your skills completely, if somebody can save him, then it's you!”

“From your lips to God's ears!”

“SHUT UP AND LISTEN, DAMMIT, YOU IMBECILES!”

All heads turned towards Jean, even Gabe turned his eyes away from his brother for a second, and Mike opened his eyes.

“Excusez-moi, mes amis. Do I have your attention now?” The Tentaspy had crossed his arms in front of his chest, his forefingers tapping impatiently against his upper arms.

“Good.” He inhaled deeply before he spoke on. “I have one word for you: respawn.”

“Res...” Sydney began to repeat, his eyes widening. Then, with his hand, he slapped against his forehead and began to laugh.

“Respawn! Of course! No, wait!” He looked at the Medic. “Martin, didn't you say respawn is too dangerous for us, in this condition?”

“Well, I said that there doesn't exist any research about respawn and pregnancy. There are theories that there's a high risk that the restoration of the bodies might face life-threatening complications because of the different DNA-codes of the mother – father – and of the baby. But once the child is removed...”

“Idiots... I... hate you... all...” Mike groaned, his eyelids fluttering. “Get that thing outta me and KILL ME ALREADY!”

This time, Sydney's smile was real. He couldn't help feeling impressed; Mike had lost so much blood, the anesthesia hadn't worked very well; yet, the twin still had enough willpower to not give in. If Sydney could only make him focus this willpower on other things but his hate on humanity.

“As you like it.”

Martin had halted his movements when Jean had shouted at them. Mike's body lay cut open in front of him, blood was dripping from the scalpel and, by now, streaming unhindered from the wide wound.

He threw the scalpel aside and with both hands, he reached into the open abdomen, simply shoving the intestines aside. It annoyed him that Jean had to remember him of the respawn system. They could have saved a lot of time.

A moment later, the cries of a new born filled the room.

“Hm, he's still alive. Impressive, I have to admit that much.” Martin's mouth twitched amusedly when he looked at Mike's face. The young man was pale, his guts were turned inside-out and the blood-loss was immense. Yet, he still breathed.

“Finish him off, then,” Jean stated coldly.

The Medic looked at him uncomfortably, so did Sydney.

“Respawn or not, euthanasia....” The Medic shook his head.

“Jean, could you...?”

“Alas, I'd love to, mon ami Sydney, but I'm busy with this brat.”

Sydney grinned at the Tentaspy. He was sure that Jean wouldn't hesitate to kill one of the twins – or both – if they were a danger, or threatening any of them, especially Tyler. But like this...

However, if they waited a few, for Mike very painful minutes longer, there wouldn't be any need to discuss it anymore.

The Sniper's eyes rested on Gabe. The younger twin's expression was far from blank; in fact, Sydney couldn't remember if he had ever seen so many emotions in Gabe's face. Many, and contradicting.

Suddenly, he had an idea, and he hoped he wouldn't regret it.

Groaning under the weight he carried, he stood up from his seat.

“Jean, give me your knife, please.”

“So you want to do it after all?”

“No, he will.” Sydney took the knife from Jean and gave it to Gabe. The twin's fingers closed around the hilt, and he began to tremble.

“Are you out of your mind?!”

Sydney ignored the aghast outcries coming from Jean, Martin and Lukas alike.

“Listen to me, Gabriel. I know that you understand me. Help your brother, then we'll take the knife back. Jean will keep holding you and your arm, so please, don't try anything that forces us to hurt you, okay?”

“Forget that I asked; you are out of your mind,” Jean growled, but he loosened his grip.

With few and firm steps, one tentacle around his waist, one around his wrist – ready to drag him away from whoever the twin might point the knife at – Gabe walked over to his brother.

“Hey, asshole,” Mike greeted him, his voice low and weak. “Enjoy.”

Gabe grinned back at him.

With one quick, sure movement, he slit his twin's throat open.

Holding a newborn child with almost white hair and ice-blue eyes in his arms, Martin watched the scene. The baby was crying lowly, as all babies did when they were new to the world, while the man who had born it was finally dying.

The Medic shook his head – the younger brother didn't even seem to care when Sydney took the knife away from him.

Silently, Gabe bent down and kissed his dying twin's blood-covered lips.

*

“Miiiiike, honeeeey, how are you?”

Mike growled an incoherent answer and pulled his blanket over his head.

After he woke up in their own respawn room, the recent injuries had disappeared and his body had been restored. The pain, though, from the knives opening his abdomen and his throat was still there, and his inner organs felt like somebody had used him as a punching ball. The strain and exhaustion from the last months had still been present.

He would need a few more days to recover completely. At least, the crazy nightmare was over and he was alive. Sometimes, however, he wasn't sure if he was too happy about the last part.

Sydney, of course, had undergone the whole procedure without any complications, and had been his usual cheerful self after a long, relaxing sleep.

“Don't you want to say 'hello' to your son and his half-sister?”

“Just... fuck... off... all of you...”

“Behave like a man! You should know that you will not get rid of him unless you play along. Get over it, boy.” Jean remained behind Sydney and Lukas – each of the two were carrying a sleepy child in their arms.

“I'm sorry, Mike, please don't think I distrust you,” the Sniper smiled apologetically at the scowling twin when he pulled up a chair and sat down beside Mike's bed.

“I wish I could let you hold them, but... well... you are still weak and, you know, easily irritated. Of course you will not be excluded,” Sydney hurried to say. “You will have your part in raising your boy. Please, don't be upset.”

Mike gave up. He hated to admit it, but the Tentaspy was probably right – he would have to play along for the moment and hopefully, he'd quickly be over with it.

“Whatever,” he answered Sydney's lengthy apology, finally sitting up in his bed.

“By the way, this is Terry. Isn't she lovely?” Sydney beamed at him, holding the bundle he had in his arms up a bit. Everything about the little girl gave her parents away – the dark-brown hair, the blue eyes, the features of her face.

Mike glanced at his brother. Gabe was sitting on the bed, right next to him. Reading, of course. The arrival of the visitors didn't seem to impress him at all.

“Whatever,” Mike repeated finally, only wishing he could go back to sleep soon and forget everything that had happened the last nine months.

“Here's your boy. He's beautiful.” Sydney waved at Lukas who stepped forward. The blond hair and the pale complexion were undoubtedly inherited from the Spy. The child had its eyes closed and was sleeping peacefully.

“Don't worry, Lukas is a wonderful father. I could learn a lot from him. And already did.” Admiringly, with a hint of sadness, he smiled at his assistant. “He insisted that you should choose a name. Mike. How do you want to name your son?”

“What? Er...”

“Don't even think you have a chance. Give your brat a name, the sooner we can leave,” the Tentaspy sneered.

“Jean! Please, honey, consider your attitude in front of the babies!” Sydney exclaimed disapprovingly. But he was reconsidering his strategy anyway.

“Well, Mike, we don't want to overexcite you. You need to rest. Give him a name, and we'll leave,” he promised reassuringly.

“Okay, okay, if ya insist. Gabe, what fag wrote that shit ya reading there?”

“Anthony Burgess.”

“Anthony. Satisfied?”

“You sure...? Uh, okay. Anthony it's then. Hm, don't you want to hold him after all?”

Laughing at the horrified twin's protests, Sydney gave his daughter to her father, Lukas, and took the small boy from him.

“Here. Isn't he adorable? Jean, please,” the Sniper hushed when the Tentaspy growled something about his suspicion that not only Sydney's child had been removed from his body.

With an encouraging smile, he lay the infant into Mike's arms.

“No! Forget it! STOP THAT, DAMMIT! Take that away! Take that thing away! Er... what the... hey, Gabe! Gabe! Look! He has your eyes!”

However, the generosity was limited. Only the top three teams were favored - the others would have to settle with the funds of last year or even cuts. In rare cases, teams had even happened to be closed completely.

Presenting and analyzing annual financial statements, profit and loss reports and the justification for the actions – especially failures – of the last year was already a dry affair. The competitive attitudes between the teams added a sometimes hostile atmosphere. Praising and promoting their own team wasn't enough – sooner or later the first leader would interrupt the speech of another and criticize their work and future plans, mercilessly pointing out failures and weaknesses. After the first few hours, all comradeship and composure were forgotten and it would need a few months to restore them again.

Sydney, as the leader of the Team King, the support unit, had been invited as well and was treated like all the others. He had to face the same struggles for approval and had to give many speeches to convince his superiors of his work and the work of his team like anybody else. The usual special status didn't mean anything anymore.

More than anyone, the Sniper dreaded these meetings, and that he had – yet again – enforced a special status for himself didn't give him an easier time among the others. Aware of this disadvantage, he had, however, insisted on ignoring the new rule that said that only team-leaders and their superiors were invited. Like the years before, Lukas had accompanied him and Sydney had refused to attend the meeting without his assistant. In the end, the Administrator herself had impatiently called the participants to order and made an exception.

Sydney had finally taken his place with a satisfied smile on his face. The bone of contention, Lukas, was anything but satisfied or relaxed like his superior. The Sniper's disregard of the formalities had put the Spy into the center of the heated discussion for more than half an hour and the glares and dismissive snorts had never completely ceased.

Sydney and Lukas were relieved when the Administrator nodded and closed the last file lying in front of her. They had started early in the morning and it was already dark again when they finally left the building.

Neither were interested in delaying their departure with any more conversation and they headed outside immediately.

Once they had stepped outside, a chilly wind greeted them. The cold air was welcome. After hours and hours of talking, listening and arguing the low temperatures were refreshing. When they had left their headquarters, it had already begun to snow.

Thick layers of white snow had changed the scenery, consisting of gray streets and dull industrial buildings, into a still abstract, but friendlier world.

They had caught their train in time. From the station, it would only be a walk of half an hour back to their home. Sydney had decided against calling one of the others and ask them to come and pick them up. In this part of the city it was snowing, too, and the streets hadn't been cleared yet. Driving could be dangerous. Besides, the Sniper enjoyed the clear air; he was in no rush to arrive home soon.

Everything seemed so peaceful now. There weren't other people around and the noise from the cars on the main road was almost completely swallowed by the white covers. More and more flakes quietly floated through the air. The wind increased and Sydney shivered. The meeting and the rather uncertain terms that had been exchanged for hours seemed so far away now.

He turned up the collar of his coat. The soft fur held him warm, but parts of it already began to feel wet and slightly frozen. Although he preferred hot days and sunbaths over winter anytime, the cold didn't affect him much. Especially so close to Christmas, walking outside was a pleasure; the world looked so beautiful and innocent.

Sydney turned to his assistant and smiled. He was surprised that the scarf could be wrapped even closer around the Spy's head, but obviously, it was possible. Lukas had buried his hands deeply in the pockets of his jacket and stared at the ground. As usual, Lukas did not speak a word of complaint.

“Honey, don't lie to me. When was the last time you ate something?” Sydney asked friendly and smiled when Lukas almost jumped. His assistant had been lost in his thoughts, Sydney hadn't missed that. He also hadn't missed how Lukas' body was shaking underneath his clothes.

“When... I... breakfast, I think?” Lukas turned his head into the other direction as Sydney chuckled. The Sniper had expected an answer like that.

“Dear, you hardly ate anything this morning because you were so nervous. No wonder you are shivering,” he chided gently and paused. He felt hungry and thirsty himself, but he wasn't in the mood to hurry home and go back inside yet.

Although the Administrator was mostly satisfied with him, the whole day had been rather depressing and tiring. Being with his team would cheer him up for sure, but for once, he didn't want to feel like working. From not too far away, he thought he heard voices.

“Come, honey, I have an idea!” He put his arm around the Spy's shoulder and changed their direction. “On the market place, they have some kind of winter festival or fair.” Sydney remembered an article he had read about it the day before. “Let's get something to eat for you there.”

Sydney was already in his element, reciting the article and recounting the food and entertainment offered.

Lukas didn't really listen to him. Fairs and festival meant entertainment. Trying to tell Sydney that he, Lukas, was tired and only wanted to go home and forget about today while taking a long, hot shower would be a waste of time. Of course the Sniper wanted some fun and distraction and as usual, Lukas was dragged along.

The idea of spending the evening with Sydney alone in a relaxed atmosphere made him more nervous than the mocking stares of the other team-leaders earlier this day, and that had been horrible enough. His stomach hurt when he simply thought about it. However, he didn't have a choice - he could hardly tell Sydney to forget about it, that the kitchen at home always offered something to eat and that it was warmer than eating outside. He couldn't just tell him, and wasn't even sure if he really wanted to.

Sydney knew him too well sometimes, and that was something that made Lukas feel uncomfortable. His boss was right – he wasn't really hungry, but his stomach didn't only hurt from being nervous, and he was really cold. Of course Sydney had to notice again how weak he was, but Lukas didn't really care. After working as Sydney's assistant for four years, he had accepted his fate - he would never leave another impression than that of the weak and pathetic Spy he was.

Or maybe he was only too tired to mind.

Looking at the slowly falling snowflakes in front of his face calmed his thoughts. Hard winters were rare in this country, and even when they happened, they were mild compared to the winters he used to know before he had left Sweden. Although he had always been cold easily, he had never dreaded the chilly months with their long, dark nights. The pace of the world seemed to slow down and take a rest. It was easier to be left alone by those who always demanded too much of him when everybody was busy enjoying or hating the snow and preparing for the festive season.

The sound of shoes on the covered ground was the same; the crunching snow, the missing echos of their steps when he and Sydney took a short cut through a narrow alley. The tall man made the difference, and became conscious of the sound of his own breathing which seemed to be too loud in this peaceful night, even as it was dampened by his scarf. He wondered why his mind wouldn't let him simply enjoy this rare, precious evening.

In the distance, just when the stinging cold had crept trough the too thin leather of his shoes, colorful lights appeared. They shone warm and brightly in the dark, despite the veil of snow. Out of the corner of his eyes, Lukas glanced at Sydney – he wasn't surprised to see a happy smile on the Sniper's face. This was more like the Sydney he knew; while he also admired the strong-willed, serious leader he had been earlier today, Sydney was more himself when he got excited. Unlike Lukas, he never seemed to hide his emotions, and it was plain to him what Sydney wanted – a bit of fun.

However, in spite of his reluctance to be here at all, Lukas had to admit that it might just be that – fun. Between the blueish shadows of the night, red and yellow lights were a welcoming sight and at the scent of sweet as well as spicy food he finally began to feel hungry after not having eaten all day. The voices became louder with every step they took, and judging from the sound, many people were already enjoying themselves.

Behind his scarf, Lukas lips twitched nervously. True, with others around to attract Sydney's attention – and he was sure they would – he wouldn't have to feel his boss' eyes on him all the time, a comforting thought. Yet, it was just that - others would soon attract Sydney's attention, and he would be left to the stares of strangers. He had never liked eating in public, with many people around him, who looked at him the very moment he dropped something or swallowed up or chewed too loudly. It was like they were only be waiting for him to make a fool of himself all the time.



The mixed smells of candied fruits and almonds from the one side and of roasted and fried meat were overwhelming, and Lukas couldn't decide if he felt even more hungry or sick. Sydney was already enjoying himself. A bit like a child who was hoping to spot Santa Claus before he could happily sit down and have some hot chocolate, Lukas thought. Only that he could imagine how a Santa appealing to Sydney would have to look like and that, once found, it wouldn't be about hot chocolate.

Altogether, Lukas had mixed feelings as they strolled between the stalls. The charms of Christmas were present everywhere – warm lights, the scent of cake and rich food. Golden bells and red ribbons were scattered on tables and counters for decoration, and from several records, the Rat Pack sang their jazzy Christmas songs along with solemn choirs. With the snow and cold surrounding them, the warmth coming from all these impressions was delightful.

The friendly chatter and laughter of other visitors were far more pleasant than the angry arguments at the meeting.

It was nice to be here. Yet, he felt like he might as well not be here. If he ever had forgotten how popular his boss was – every third or second person they met reminded him. Nods and excited greetings made the Sniper turn his head from right to left and left to right all the time. Every once in a while, they stopped so that an acquaintance could shake hands with Sydney and exchange some words about everyones well-being and my, how long had it been.

Lukas himself wasn't small, but most of the time, the young man who preferred to stand behind the taller Sniper was simply overlooked. Maybe not noticed, maybe ignored, or maybe nobody could imagine that he could seriously be one of Sydney's friends.

Whatever the truth was, Lukas didn't really care. He was glad that he wasn't engaged into any conversations with strangers, feeling bitter at the same time because life never seemed to miss any opportunity to prove his unimportance to him.

However, he was happy, even a bit proud, on Sydney's behalf. It was only right that his boss was so popular. Lukas had already noticed that those who didn't seem to know Sydney yet already paid him attention when they saw him and heard him talk. It wasn't only his size or those, well, unusual pink shades. The always ready smile, the deep voice, his charming, courteous mannerism...

Lukas caught himself staring at Sydney's face while he listened to the friendly discussion of the advantages and disadvantages about the weather. Like always, when he admired him, he began to feel uncomfortable and sad. Every little gesture and word that reminded him of why he loved Sydney was also a reminder of the gap between them. They lived in different worlds. Lukas was out of place in Sydney's bright and cheerful world and he was convinced of one thing – without him, Sydney would be able to enjoy himself a lot more.

“Come on, what do you want? My treat.”

“You don't have to... I can pay myself...” Lukas protested while he was briskly shoved towards one of the food-serving stalls. He had been lost in his thoughts and didn't even know when Sydney had gotten behind him after telling the stranger good-bye. The Sniper gave him a final push.

“I know you can, my dear, but that's not the point. Actually, I owe you a fancy five-course meal for enduring that awfully boring meeting. You like fish, don't you?” Sydney chattered on.

Lukas weakly nodded and began to loosen his scarf while Sydney ordered two sandwiches – fish for Lukas, steak for himself – and two mugs of mulled wine for both of them.

Not too sure if fish was such a good idea on his empty stomach, he accepted the offered sandwich. Skeptically, he looked at the hot, steaming drink Sydney put in front of him.

“You look like you are freezing, honey. This should warm you up.” Watching the crowd without looking out for anything or anyone in particular, Sydney bit in his sandwich.

Hesitatingly, Lukas tried his. The taste was good, not too mild, not too salty, and the fish was fresh. He already felt how his stomach demanded more, but he controlled himself, chewing very slowly. He was afraid to swallow, fearing the sound would be too loud and obnoxious enough to provoke disapproving stares.

“What's up, dear? Are your cheeks glowing from the cold or is it the alcohol?” Sydney teased him with a gentle smile, giving one of said cheeks a playful pinch with his cold fingers.

Lukas almost choked on his sandwich, startled and not sure how to react. He hadn't even touched his drink yet, and more than one thing was going on in his head, and most of them he could hardly tell Sydney without embarrassing himself completely.

Chance came to his aid. Sydney was about to say something else when a voice called his name. Lukas and the Sniper turned their heads.

In front of the stall to their left, a small group of men and women about Lukas' age had taken a seat on one of the benches. They all grinned at Sydney and one – supposedly the same who had called the Sniper's name – waved at him, beckoning him to join them.

Sydney laughed at them, and turned back to Lukas with a sigh.

“Sorry, dear, ignoring them would be very impolite. I'll be right back, okay?” he apologized with a shrug, quickly stroking over Lukas' cheek. “You look lovely, honey, less pale and starving.” He nodded approvingly, picked up his mug and walked over to the small group that welcomed him with a cheer.

'Typical.' His amusement was almost bigger than his disappointment. He had expected something like this from the moment Sydney had suggested they come here. Quickly, he finished his sandwich, and of course the last bite went the wrong way. Convinced that everyone close was already staring at him, he tried to suppress the embarrassing coughing and quickly reached for his mug. The hot wine had cooled down considerably, so he easily emptied half of it without burning his tongue. A bit too sweet for his taste, but the characteristic spices and the remaining warmth felt good. Furthermore, it ended the coughing fit as he had hoped. Relieved to have adverted this crisis, he drank the rest while it was still warm.

Spending time with Sydney could be irritating. Lukas was aware that he wasn't fair when he thought about it, but as usual, Sydney's behavior only added to his feeling of being out of place. Of course, Sydney was his usual self, cheerful and candid. Even if he spent some time with the Sniper without the other team-mates around them, there was nothing in it for him, not even a few minutes of talking. That was a ridiculous thought, he scolded himself. He wouldn't have been able to think of anything interesting to say anyway.

He watched Sydney. The Sniper had taken a spot between two of the strangers, his back turned to Lukas, and was happily chatting with them. A wave of resentment came over him when the handsome young man who had waved Sydney over casually put his hand on Sydney's back.

This was enough. Yes, it was unfair and pathetic, but Lukas couldn't help feeling angry. The wine already had already begun to cloud his mind, making it more difficult to maintain the usual outward indifference he showed whenever Sydney was busy flirting.

He would go home.

It wasn't like Sydney would miss him anyway. Besides, it was still cold. He tore his eyes away from the hand on Sydney's back and turned around to return the empty mug. The vendor was busily hasting from one side to the other, missing the skinny young man whose voice was too low to be heard.

Finally, after Lukas had cleared his throat for the third time, he was noticed. The vendor smiled apologetically, nodded and turned away. A minute later, a new, hot drink was placed in front of Lukas. Perplexed, the Spy stared at the mug, realizing that the man had misunderstood him when he had pointed at the empty drink. He didn't even try to explain the problem and reached for his wallet. He paid the patiently waiting vendor the due amount, grabbed the cup and moved a step away from the counter, before he accidentally ordered half of the offered dishes.

Behind him, he heard Sydney laugh – so he was probably busy with flirting.

Annoyed, Lukas looked at the hot wine. Annoyed, because, among cinnamon, anise and cloves, too much sugar made the drink smell sickly sweet. Annoyed, because he was freezing and because Sydney could never resist any temptation. As long as it wasn't him. Of course his presence wasn't tempting, incompetent and boring as he was. He, who was so easily ignored and forgotten and never got what he wanted anyway.

The hot mug in his hands was just more proof.

He put the cup to his lips, taking a big gulp.



Sydney wasn't sure how many times he had told his acquaintances how nice it had been to meet them, but now he had to leave. After all, he wasn't alone this evening. Every time he was about to stand up, somebody had to quickly ask something - only a minute, of course, they didn't want to hold him up. It was difficult to say 'no' when they assured him that it was just so nice to see him again.

These were good, fun people and he wouldn't mind repeating the events from the one time they had hung out together, but not tonight. However, he didn't want to be impolite, so he graciously tried to talk himself out of an invitation to visit one of the more open-minded clubs of the city.

He didn't even lie. It had really been a long day, he had only wanted to say 'hi' and he wasn't alone. He began to feel guilty, knowing too well what kind of silly thoughts run through Lukas' pretty head. He had let him wait for too long already.

With a smile, he looked at the empty mug in his hands. He had always been useless when it came to drinking, but being tired and cold only made it worse – he was feeling a bit dizzy. Politely, he shook his head when the young man next to him begged him again to join them tonight– or rather him, if Sydney interpreted the way the hand moved across his back correctly. He hoped that Lukas had finished eating, his assistant's pale face had worried him. It would be better he convinced himself if Lukas was feeling better. Next, time to go home, before both of them caught a cold.

Suddenly, a hand was placed firmly on his shoulder. Somebody bent over him from behind. A mug was placed in front of him and a wave of hot wine and spices filled his nose.

“You look like you are freezing, honey. This should warm you up.”

“Lukas.” Sydney raised his head. The frown on his assistant's face surprised him, but it fitted the unusually annoyed voice. Sad, worried, nervous, thoughtful, skeptical, cautiously happy or delighted, bashful – those were emotions he knew from him. A Lukas who was apparently in a bad mood was new. And certainly not less likable.

The chatter had stopped. The woman next to Sydney moved aside to make room for Lukas who didn't hesitate to sit down. Everyone, including Sydney, looked at the young, blonde man with a serious, unreadable expression. The light blue eyes focused on the full drink in his slender hands.

“Well,” the man to Sydney's right finally broke the silence. He had removed his hand from the Sniper's back. “Syd, come on, another drink should put you in the mood for a fun night. Let's go together. Your friend here can join, of course, and...” He stopped.

Sydney turned to Lukas on his left and swallowed an amused chuckle, wondering if Lukas was aware of the scathing look he cast in the persistent man's direction. Even when he avoided any eye-contact – Lukas' opinion about the suggestion was more than clear.

“Thanks, darling, but seriously,” he addressed his acquaintance again, “it was a long day. Go, dance, laugh and have a lovely time. We have to talk about business anyway and after that, I'll happily embrace my bed. It was wonderful to see you again, dearies. Maybe another time.”

A few, courteous words of good-bye followed, and finally, they were alone.

“Honey, how many is that now?” Sydney asked, tapping against Lukas' mug with one finger.

“Three.”

“Oh my, I'm one behind? Outrageous!” He laughed. Yes, his tolerance for alcohol was very low and yes, he already felt giddy after one drink. However, seeing Lukas, skinny and probably still hungry, indifferently drinking from his cup without a second thought was a challenge.

He followed suit, emptying half of his drink, his eyes still observing his assistant's face with its reddened cheeks and the grim frown. The wine warmed him from inside and his smile widened. It was so rare to see Lukas without his scarf and mask, and seeing him like this was a novelty altogether. If more drinking was required to enjoy these good-looking features a bit longer, he was fine with it. However, he couldn't ignore the guilt.

“You are angry with me, and you are right. I'm sorry for leaving you for so long, darling.” He wanted to touch him, but Lukas indignantly backed away from Sydney's hand.

“It's not always about you.”

A halfhearted lie. His frustration had reached a level he couldn't bear anymore. The jealousy had gotten the better of him and before he had been aware of what he was doing, Lukas had ordered another drink and walked over to the happy group. He had no idea what he had hoped to achieve. The source of his jealousy had removed itself and was probably already having a good time and he, Lukas, had denied Sydney sharing the fun. It was true, he was angry with Sydney for forgetting about him, but he was also angry with himself.

“Of course it's not, babe, sorry. What is it, then?”

Lukas had no idea if Sydney was seriously believing him or if he was being teased. He glanced at his boss, but couldn't find any hint of mockery in his face. Only a friendly, openly worried smile, waiting patiently for Lukas to answer. Fine, he might as well speak his mind. He took another sip.

“Everything. Why did you drag me along?” Again, he avoided Sydney's touch.

'Stop treating me like a dog or child.'

He hadn't had enough heated wine yet to say something like this aloud.

“Honey, you were hungry. I thought, after the meeting...”

“Oh yes, the meeting.” Lukas flinched. “Where everybody stared at me, showing me bluntly I didn't belong. You knew from the very beginning it was only for leaders, right? Why did you do that to me?” There, he had done it. He impolitely interrupted his boss, whined and accused him of treating him badly. He couldn't just refrain from embarrassing himself. This evening was getting better and better.

“You are my assistant. I'd have had to report everything to you anyway, and you know, it's better to hear all this stuff first-hand, in case I miss something.” Sydney explained calmly.

“You are not an idiot,” Lukas snorted, still not looking at Sydney. “Some of the other leaders are not half as smart and they manage alone. Why did I have to be there?”

Sydney hesitated with his reply. Finally, he emptied his mug and stood up.

“Please wait a moment, all right? I will be right back, dear, I promise.”

Lukas nodded, drinking the rest of his own wine, starring at the empty mug for the few minutes Sydney was gone.

“There you go.”

Lukas finally looked at his boss, who was taking his place next to him again, straddling the wooden bench. Grinning triumphantly, Sydney raised his mug. So only a bit of wine was needed, and his assistant would become cheeky and actually corner him with his questions. He liked that.

“Sydney, no! I've really had enough!” Lukas protested, and Sydney chuckled.

“Hearing a loud and clear 'no!' coming from your pretty mouth was worth the trouble today.” Amused, he continued drinking.

“I can't find this funny.”

Thoughtfully, Sydney watched the now rather sad face and inhaled deeply.

It was still snowing. White flakes covered the table and glistened in Lukas' fair hair. The crisp weather suited him, Sydney thought, even if it didn't really make sense to him. It really was a beautiful night. The other visitors around them were in a good, joyful mood, just the way he liked his surroundings to be, but for once, he didn't pay attention to that.

“Alright. Listen. See, darling, I don't like these meetings, either. For... several reasons. It's easier to focus when somebody I trust is with me.”

“Oh yes, right. You, who trust everyone blindly on this team, even – God knows why – the Twins. And even they would have been of more use today. Why do I of all people had to join when you know it would make me uncomfortable?”

What he wanted to achieve with his outburst and reproaches, Lukas didn't know himself. Vaguely, he concluded that he shouldn't drink. His normal, nervous self was pathetic enough; the way his character changed when intoxicated disgusted him. Not only him, but obviously, Sydney as well, as he remained silent.

“You are reliable,” Sydney finally tried to explain. He sadly smiled at his drink, watching how the steaming became thinner as the wine slowly cooled down. Without looking at his assistant, he continued.

“Even if you are silent, no matter what. Even when I don't hear or see you, I know I can rely on you. That makes me feel comfortable.”

Lukas began to chuckle and finally burst with laughter.

“You are such a god-damned egoist, Sydney. Really!”

“Dammit, Lukas, if I was such an egoist I'd do other things to you than asking you to come with me to stupid meetings. I'm sorry, honey, forget it.” What he really cursed was the alcohol. It had become more difficult to maintain his unshakable, happy and always smiling attitude than he had expected. He blamed the wine and this good-looking face with those pretty blue eyes that simply wouldn't allow him to look at them for longer than two seconds. This wasn't good at all.

Lukas, too, felt the effects of drinking more than was good for him. He was more and more losing control of the conversation, finding it difficult to judge the situation and, especially, Sydney's words. He gave a start when a cold hand touched the back of his head and moved over his neck and finally, his back.

“You are a flirt. You really can't hold yourself back for even one single evening, can you? Sorry for interrupting you earlier.” He bit his tongue.

Even if he sometimes thought bitterly of Sydney's flirtatious character, it made him feel guilty. He would never drink again, if it made him say thing aloud he already hated to think. His own aggressiveness and the hand moving over his back made him nervous and the loathed, but at least well-known insecurity returned.

“Oh you are all wrong, my dear!” Sydney grinned. “I would have lasted chase and innocent all night, you know. YOU started this, babe.”

He moved closer and placed his other hand on Lukas' leg. Suddenly, the whole situation didn't appear to be so sad and depressive anymore. He chuckled and put his arm around Lukas' shoulder when his assistant tried to move away.

He let go of the leg and picked up his mug, emptying it.

“You and your little prank here make it so just impossible to ignore your face, handsome.”

Lukas stiffened under the touch, feeling dizzy from too much wine and the voice that now lowly growled right into his ear. This was too much. He had wished against all hopes that someday, something like this might, maybe, happen. He had never been the target of Sydney's attention, not in this way. Often enough he had watched when Sydney was flirting with others, feeling envious and invisible. Now, suddenly being in the position of those he usually envied, he had no idea what to do. He shuddered not only from the snow and his cold feet when the hand again touched his leg.

This was not really Sydney, he wouldn't do this if he weren't drunk.

“I'm sorry that my face isn't handsome unless you are drunk,” Lukas snapped at him.

This hadn't been anything of the things he had wanted to say. His own drunken self was really unbearable. Feeling like a lovesick teenager wasn't obviously enough, now he was also acting like one.

Sydney, however, was not that easily to upset.

“Don't be silly.” The Sniper lay his head on Lukas' shoulder and laughed, finding his assistant's reaction too funny. “Did you already forget? I'm a flirt. I never missed that you are handsome. The truth is...” He suddenly stopped laughing and lifted his head.

“The truth is, I can't handle your handsomeness unless I'm drunk, my dear.”

Not giving Lukas a chance to react, Sydney's hand took hold of the soft, blonde hair.

Gently, he pulled the paralyzed Lukas into a kiss.

Sydney tasted sweet wine, feeling his excitement grow when Lukas' lips felt soft against his, except for the slightly rougher part of the scar. This little imperfection only made him more interesting, more perfect. Lukas gasped in surprise and Sydney took that as an invitation – pulling him a bit closer, he let his tongue slide inside Lukas' mouth.

Sydney hadn't been aware of how tense he was until Lukas hesitatingly responded.

The Sniper relaxed. Lukas' hair was wet under his fingers – it hadn't stopped snowing. They couldn't ignore the cold forever; sooner or later, they had to find a warmer place.

Where he could really be alone with his assistant. Sydney was curious – he had always known that Lukas was more than the insecure, easily flustered man everyone else saw in him. This kiss was soft and shy, but more than good; it was promising. Tomorrow he would feel guilty, for giving in to his egoism.

Again, he cursed the wine that made it impossible to keep staying away from Lukas. However, he began to wonder why he so insistently had restrained himself – it was so easy!

The leg under his other hand felt cold, even through the fabric of Lukas' pants. He knew how to warm him.

“Sydney!”

A hand slowly feeling up his thigh came dangerously close to his groin. The touch had finally broken through the thick veil that had clouded his mind and he realized what he was doing and where he was – kissing Sydney, in public, surrounded by nosy bystanders.

He pushed Sydney away and jumped to his feet, barely avoiding stumbling over the bench and his own feet. Sydney was drunk, he was joking, and he, Lukas, what was he thinking when he didn't stop him right away? Anyway, this would stop now and he would go home before he lost the last remains of his pride. That he still wished for a different outcome as he could still taste the kiss on his lips was not relevant.

He cringed when Sydney laughed. Lukas had feared that this would happen. What he hadn't expected was that Sydney would stand up, too, and throw himself around Lukas' neck only a few seconds later.

“Here, honey.” Chuckling, Sydney put Lukas' hat on the Spy's head, shoving is too deep into Lukas' face and covering his eyes.

“Don't run away,” he hummed and nuzzled against Lukas' throat and muttered discontentedly when the scarf was between him and the skin.

“God, Sydney, you are... You shouldn't, you are my boss...” he tried to reason while he was helplessly shoved towards the stall again.

“Darling, you are already sobering up, as your boss, I cannot allow this. Good man, be a dear and give us two more.” He beamed at the vendor who eyed them suspiciously.

Sydney was right. The boldness from before was gone and Lukas found it difficult to talk, the way it had always been. He had many things to say – telling Sydney to back off and come home and forget about it. And telling him to come closer and continue, asking him to force him out of his shell.

“I have a wonderful idea, handsome,” Sydney, still hanging over Lukas shoulder, purred. “We have two more of these babies, each. Just for the fun of it, because we are here, having a good time. Without having a nagging sister or Medic scolding as if we were little boys.” He chuckled so violently that he almost spilled his hot drink over Lukas' jacket.

Lukas surrendered. Sighing, he picked up the second mug and drank slowly. Later he would regret it, but in the last hour, he had felt better than he had in months, if not years. Free, and, for a short moment, even happy.

However, with Sydney around his neck it was difficult to drink. He ducked down and turned away from him. Just in time, he could put his mug on the down and stop Sydney from falling. With a worried warning, he shoved the laughing Sniper with his back against the counter.

This time, not much was left in his cup, but Sydney simply ordered another drink. Lukas couldn't hide a grin – Sydney was amazing. Drunk, unsteady on his feet without support; yet he laughed and clearly enjoyed himself, confident and happy as ever. Lukas would have wanted to die before he attracted the attention of other people like this. Yet, somehow, Sydney wasn't making a fool of himself. He was how he was, irresponsible and carefree, and Lukas deeply admired him.

Crossing his legs, Sydney leaned back, facing the sky, and let the snowflakes cool his face. He was aware of Lukas' gaze and he didn't mind it at all. His assistant had never made him feel uneasy and for once, he enjoyed his presence freely, without guilt, or worry that one day, Lukas would stop looking at him.

“Say, honey,” he said suddenly, without turning his head, “you are not, well, seeing anybody, are you?” He ignored the indignant “Sydney!” coming from Lukas and spoke on.

“And Ty? There's nothing going on between you? He is a sweetheart and you get along wonderfully. Judging from the mess he gets you into so easily all the time.” Just an innocent question to judge the dynamics in his team better, that was all.

“Wha... of course not! Oh God, Sydney! That rude kid... and Jean would kill me and... I mean, of course, yes, Tyler is a nice guy but... God, not like THAT!” Too perplexed to think of anything else to say – let alone to understand where this question was coming from – Lukas shook his head and focused on his wine. He wasn't surprised that Sydney liked this stuff, it was disgustingly sweet.

“Are you sure?” Sydney now directly looked at his assistant, who rolled his eyes and turned away. His mug was already half-empty and he felt the heat return to his face.

“Why is this your business anyway?” He held back a snorted “Jealous?”. That would have been ridiculous.

Sydney ignored the question.

“But you have, let's say, had some fun, sometime in your past?” He chuckled when the young Spy's face turned even redder, but he became serious again when Lukas didn't answer.

“Yes or now?”

“Sydney! Yes, sure, but... Don't ask me something like that!” What certainly wasn't fun was the development of this conversation. The idea to pay him back, though, became rather appealing. Unfortunately, the amount of alcohol he would need to dare to show him what he thought was fun would kill him before he even touched Sydney.

“Wonderful, honey, then you know the facts of life!” Sydney's laugh changed into a chuckle that got finally interrupted by a coughing fit.

“You... you are an irresponsible, insolent, shameless, wanton and horny...” Searching for more appropriate words and failing, Lukas seized the Sniper by the collar of his coat; he still couldn't bring himself to look him into his eyes. Instead, he stared at the white teeth. Sydney regained control of his breathing and smiled widely.

“Yes, love. That's how I am. All of that. Right now. Have been so the last four years, every day, and you still like me, right? I'm glad you do.”

This time, neither of them could say for sure who initiated the kiss. It happened and both were comfortable with it. Using the alcohol as his guide and excuse, Lukas shoved himself closer to the Sniper and didn't shrink back when Sydney wrapped his arms around him. His own hands ran through the Sniper's dark hair - almost upsetting his hat - and over the stubbly face.

Sydney let himself be pushed farther back, until the edge of the counter started to hurt even through his thick coat – he ignored it. Lukas demanded more of his tongue and his lips, and he was willing to give.

“Ahem, excuse me.”

Both turned their heads. Next to them, the owner of the stall stood, the unease he felt plainly written over his face.

“Nothing personal, really.” The man scratched the back of his head and shifted uncomfortably. “I have to ask you to leave. If you don't buy something to eat or drink, please do... this... somewhere else.”



“Sorry I didn't keep my promise.”

Being a member of a team leaded by someone like Sydney, it was easy to forget that most places in the world weren't as progressive as the headquarters. Nobody had said something until they were politely asked to leave, but Lukas suddenly became aware again of the people around them. This time, it hadn't been his imagination - others were staring at them and although the stares weren't hostile, he didn't miss the disapproving frowns.

Fortunately for him, it wasn't enough to sober him up – he didn't regret anything. This could wait until the next morning.

They had left the market place in silence, walking side by side, and Lukas longed to reach for the Sniper's hand or arm. The tall man's way of walking would even have given him a good excuse. Instead of striding with the usual confidence, his steps were unsteady and more than once, he stumbled over his own feet.

However, an invisible wall hovered between them and Lukas couldn't find the courage to simply let his arm slip around Sydney's waist.

“What do you mean?” he finally asked, wondering what Sydney was talking about.

The Sniper glanced at him with a sheepish smile.

“I said we'd have two drinks, dear, but we only had one. I'm sorry.”

Lukas chuckled. He didn't even remember if Sydney had been talking about two or twenty drinks and the apology sounded so worried and sincere, it was too funny. His chuckle stopped and changed into a guilty smile when he thought of the hand he had buried deep into his pocket and what it kept under his jacket.

“Sydney...” he began hesitatingly, suddenly afraid of his own courage. In his drunk mind, it wasn't so much what he had done that worried him, but Sydney's possible reaction.

“What is it, dear?” Sydney inquired gently when Lukas didn't continue, calmly studying his assistant's guilt-stricken face.

“Please... don't be angry, I just thought... nothing actually, I just...” Instead of trying to explain, he opened the zipper of his jacket and pulled out a wine bottle.

“I think I made a mistake,” he finally said, his face blushed and miserable.

For a moment, Sydney only stared at him, at first not able to put the pieces together. Suddenly, he burst out with laughter.

“Lukas!” he gasped, and the invisible wall was gone. Laughing, Sydney put his arm around Lukas' shoulder from behind and, with his other hand, took the bottle from him.

“What a bad, wonderful boy. You really are a still water running deep. Honey, I'd never thought you had the guts to steal! To steal alcohol of all things!” He opened the bottle and took a big sip. “Only half full, but just enough for two. Lukas, you really are amazing.” Sydney laughed, almost making Lukas trip when he leaned on him with his full weight. “Now I can keep the promise. See? I really can rely on you.”

“You are not disappointed? Sydney, I've stolen this. God, I really...” Disbelieving his own words, he shook his head, and took the bottle from Sydney's hands, drinking a generous amount himself.

“My dear, the only thing that disappoints me is that the wine isn't warmer, after you kept it so close to your body.” Sydney snuggled closer to him. His arm moved down from the shoulders, around the Spy's waist. He shoved the opened jacket aside and let his fingers glide underneath the sweater.

“Syd! Stop that!” Lukas shivered, not only because Sydney's fingers were cold as ice on his skin.

“But I'm cold,” Sydney growled lowly into his ears, “and you are so warm.” Clumsily, he tried to shove Lukas' scarf away while the hand under the sweater moved upwards, over the sticking out ribs.

Lukas stood stock-still. The wind blew some stray snowflakes against his exposed stomach, but Sydney's lips gently nibbling on the skin of his throat distracted him from the cold. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, wishing he could turn around and push Sydney down, into the snow. If he could, he would take the Sniper's hands and push them into the snow, over Sydney's head, and kiss him.

However, he couldn't. Even after drinking so much that his mind felt dizzy and with Sydney pressing his hips against his back, Lukas didn't find the courage. He feared the coming morning too much; one lapse of reason and for only following his desire once he would risk the friendship with the most important man in his life.

That, and they were still outside. It was still snowing peacefully and they stood in the middle of the street.

Sydney's hand alone felt so wonderful. Even when he was too drunk to stand steadily, his touch was certain and knowing. Like Lukas expected it from a man with Sydney's experience.

“And tomorrow, it will be someone else again.”

“Hm? Did you say something?”

“No. I'm sorry... please stop.” With a sigh, Lukas broke free from him and began to walk, his gaze directed to the ground. It wouldn't be long before they arrived at the base. He didn't look back or waited for Sydney, nor did he put his sweater back in place or close his jacket.

A little moment later, he heard footsteps rushing after him. Silently, Sydney caught up. Lukas felt the Sniper's questioning eyes on his face, but he didn't look up, and Sydney didn't say anything. In the distance, they soon saw their home. Only the outside lighting was on; if some of the others were still awake, they would be in their rooms or the common room, that were both located in the basement. At this hour, however, it was more likely that they wouldn't meet anyone.

As they came closer, Lukas could also see the soft, warm lights from several holiday lights Sydney had insisted on scattering all inside and outside the building. He smiled weakly when he remembered the fights some of their team-mates had put up, to prevent their boss from turning the base into a second Santa's Workshop amusement park.

Although they wouldn't have to fear waking the others up, they entered the base as quietly as possible. Their boots and shoes left white footprints on the floor and more snow fell from their hats and shoulders. Lukas raised the bottle and drank the rest of the wine. He simply put the empty bottle on a small table they walked by. An uncomfortable pain already began to throb behind his forehead; he hoped that would be gone after some hours of sleep.

What had happened after today's meeting seemed as far away as the meeting itself. Lukas wondered how Sydney thought about the last hours – if he was angry, or disappointed or didn't care at all. But no matter how negative his assumptions were, right now, he felt like he didn't care about anything himself. Just a few mistakes on his list of embarrassments, what did it matter?

“I'm sorry, I made you feel uncomfortable again. Guess I'll never learn.”

Lukas shook his head at Sydney's mumbled apology.

“No... I... it was my fault, sorry.”

They had reached their quarters. Lukas headed to his room but hesitated when he touched the handle of the door. He felt dizzy and sick and somehow, he couldn't open the door. A glance to the side and he saw Sydney standing in front of his door. The Sniper stared back at him and smiled.

“Dear, I know I should say something to you, but I can't think of anything. Me! Lost for words!” His laugh was unusually uncertain when he took a few step towards Lukas. “Are you even aware of how much power you have over me?”

Under different circumstances, Lukas would have assumed that this was nothing but another pick-up line. Now, he only walked over to him and grabbed Sydney by his coat.

“I'm still drunk. And you?”

Sydney's face brightened. Smiling softly, he unwrapped Lukas' scarf and let it fall to the ground. His fingers stroked over the pale face, the lips and the scar.

“So handsome.”

He held Lukas by his chin and lifted his face up. For a second, his gaze met Lukas' clear blue eyes.

This was too much.

Lukas seized Sydney firmly by his wrist and pushed the hands violently away from his face.

Suddenly, the Sniper found himself pushed against the wall, his hands pinned down beside his shoulders, his fingers intertwined with Lukas'. He lowered his head when Lukas stretched to kiss him.

“It's always so easy for you, isn't it, boss?” Lukas let go of the hands and unbuttoned Sydney's coat.

“Easy? Honey, you have no idea. Being 'Sydney' is not as easy as you might think!” He helped Lukas out of his jacket and once it was removed, he began pushing up the black sweater. Together with the Spy's help, it was dropped to the floor as well.

“Tell me about it.” Lukas shuddered when this time, two cold hands ran over his upper body. His own fingers were under the Sniper's shirt, hesitantly moving over the firm muscles of his stomach and upwards, feeling the wiry hair covering Sydney's chest. He wanted to undress him, too, but Lukas mind was too clouded with wine and Sydney's words – he couldn't coordinate his hands long enough to remove first the coat, and then the shirt.

Sydney pushed himself away from the wall, and stumbled against Lukas, who wrapped his arms around him at once. Putting his own arms around Lukas, Sydney pulled the smaller man into a hug.

“Being 'Sydney' means I cannot even dare to think I might want something. Even when I really want... it...” He tightened his embrace and sighed, burying his face in the crook of Lukas' neck.

“Please don't ask,” he added.

“I won't,” Lukas promised, surprised by the pleading sound of Sydney's voice. His hands still under the shirt, he reassuringly stroked over the Sniper's back.

“I know.” Sydney sighed. He loosened the embrace, lifted his head and searched for Lukas' lips. This kiss was less forceful than before. Sydney let Lukas have control of the pace, enjoying the intense tenderness with which Lukas' tongue invaded his mouth. With a mind of their own, his hands wandered downwards, over the bare back, and stopped at the belt of Lukas' pants. Reluctantly, Sydney held himself back. With regret, he pulled away from Lukas, looking wistfully at the shuddering, skinny man with the excited face and dazed eyes.

“Forgive me, Lukas. I... I want to, but I can't have you, all of you, now. I'm sorry, love, but please stay, okay?” it suddenly burst out of him, and for once, he was the one who was avoiding Lukas' eyes. “I know I ask a lot of you. I'm irresponsible and egoistic and all you said. Maybe I'll never have the courage to give in to myself and get what I want. I'll rely on you, abuse your love, toy with you and hurt you. But please, promise me that you won't leave me alone, Lukas.”

“I won't,” Lukas repeated. He reached out for Sydney and pulled him closer by his neck, softly kissing the Sniper's throat. Sydney gasped in surprise at the sudden pain when Lukas bit him, then he chuckled.

The young Spy gave a short laugh, too. Suddenly, his mind seemed to spin even more and he realized how exhausted he was. And sad. Yet, with Sydney's arms around him and his head resting against the tall man's chest, he felt comfortable and calm.

A moment later, he had fallen asleep. Sydney remained motionless a little while longer, holding Lukas tightly, before he finally took him into his arms and, carefully to not wake him up, brought him into his room.



The sound of his alarm clock was the loudest noise he had ever heard in his whole life. At least that was the impression Lukas had this morning. He opened his eyes and groaned at the sudden pain in his head when too bright light was added to the unbearable noise.

Pulling himself together, he turned around in his bed, picked the clock up and simply tossed it to the floor. He swallowed down the disgusting taste of stale wine and acid when he sat up, fearing for a moment he either had thrown up or would do so any moment.

He forced himself to breath calmly, not too shallow, not too deeply. Finally, his senses began to recover and slowly, very slowly, his mind started to work again. He stared at the broken alarm clock on the carpet, and a wave of guilt rushed through him. He had to ask Riley later to either repair it or give him a new one; surely, the trouble wouldn't amuse him at all. Even worse was the teasing he had to expect from Sydney when he handed in a request for the new item.

Sydney... The thought of the Sniper filled him with something he couldn't really explain. The pain in his head throbbed even more when he tried to remember. Something had happened last night, but what?

They had been to the meeting, and it was horrible. Every little memory, every stare and word of contempt were back and all too colorful. Yes, he had been desperate and angry because Sydney had dragged him along, but if his memory didn't deceive him, he hadn't said anything about it to his boss.

He laughed. The thought alone was ridiculous – pathetic as he was, he would never say something against Sydney's orders or wishes.

Vaguely, he remembered watching Sydney's back while the Sniper was busily flirting with a group of strangers. There was a mug with hot, steaming wine, too. No, two.

Finally, he began to understand where the headache and the nauseous feeling in his stomach came from. He had drank too much after a long, stressful day. Furthermore, he obviously had been forced once more to watch Sydney having a good time with some other guy. It was no surprise that he didn't feel all too excellent this morning.

Musing about it wouldn't change anything. Scolding himself, Lukas vigorously jumped out of his bed, regretting the sudden movement at once. The world began to spin around him. Hurriedly, he picked his pants up from the floor – not even wondering why his clothes were scattered everywhere instead of lying neatly folded on his sofa as usual – and ran out of his room, reaching the bathroom just in time.



Half an hour later, after emptying his stomach and taking a quick, hot shower, Lukas felt a bit better. He would voluntarily pass on coffee today and try to ask the kitchen staff if he could have some tea instead, hoping they wouldn't ask any questions.

With a sigh, he entered the canteen and sat down on the nearest chair. He was aware that his tolerance for alcohol was very low, but two cups of hot wine shouldn't affect him so much. On his way back from the shower to his own room he had found his jacket and sweater in front of his door. He must have been really drunk when he couldn't even remember dropping them there, not to mention the fact that he had begun to undress himself before he was in his room. He wondered how many of the others had noticed his clothes outside the corridor. How embarrassing!

Together with O'Conner and Jo, Sydney entered the canteen. Lukas glanced at him from the corner of his eye while he gratefully accepted the glass of water Matthew gave him, nodding understandingly at him. This weird feeling from before, when he had thought of Sydney, stirred inside of him again. Then, he felt another sting in his stomach.

A not too big, but clearly visible mark covered the skin of Sydney's throat.

That moment, he also caught a part of the conversation.

“Only you could find enough energy for a hot date after a conference that lasted a whole day. Seriously, how do you do that?” Jo rolled her eyes and Sydney grinned.

“My lovely sister, I'd share my secret just with you. But alas, I have to confess! I don't remember! Believe me, I wish I could. Judging from this beauty,” he pointed at the mark, “it must have been wonderful. Seriously, my dear, I have no idea. I remember that Lukas and I went to the fair and had something to drink and eat. I met a few people I know and after that... nothing.” He shrugged.

“Trust our graceful leader to find a way to amuse himself even after drinking himself unconscious.” Impatiently, one of Jean's tentacles twitched. The Tentaspy had joined them for breakfast this morning and leaned against the wall. Mockingly, he glared at Sydney.

“Please, do tell us more, mon cher, do you bring us more than the news about your collection of lovebites? Do you have any results from the meeting, or did you forget that, too?”

“Don't worry, Jean, my dear friend. All in good time. You will be pleased. But for now, I really need something to eat. O'Conner, be a darling and make me some tea. I have to admit, I feel slightly, uh, exhausted.” With a flinch, he put his hand on his stomach.

“Exhausted, yeah, sure. Ya havin' a hangover, that's all. And judging from his face, you are not the only one.” Tyler had taken a seat right opposite Lukas and pointed at the Spy. “Guess ya better make the double amount of tea. Bet's on he is again too embarrassed to ask himself.”

“Ty, love, how can you be so caring and yet so rude at the same time?” Jean chuckled, but Tyler only wrinkled up his nose and ignored the Tentaspy.

Lukas had listened to the exchanges in silence. Obviously, he had either forgotten about Sydney's flirt of the night, or he had really gone home before there had been anything to witness. He couldn't make up his mind if he was glad he didn't know more about Sydney's drunk excess, or if it would be easier for him if he could remember the face of the person who was the reason of the ugly jealousy he felt.

Of course, Sydney was oblivious of his assistant's inner rage and desperation. He sat down next to Lukas and gave him a friendly slap on his back.

“I'm sorry, honey, guess I neglected you again. When did you leave? Or do you know more about this?” Sydney tilted his head to expose the hickey even more.

“Sorry, boss. I left shortly after we arrived. I was tired.” At least that was what he thought had happened; something else wouldn't make sense. Lukas knew himself well enough – when Sydney really had been busy with strangers, there was no way that Lukas would have stayed and watched or joined. Faintly, he remembered how he had considered going home.

“Of course he left,” Tyler snorted with his mouth full of scrambled eggs and bacon. He almost choked, but after clearing his throat, he spoke on. “As if our team chicken here is enough of a pervert to stay and watch ya havin' a good time. Next, ya'll say it was him!”

Sydney and those in Tyler's earshot laughed good-naturedly.

“Tyler, mon chèr, this is not a very charming thing to say.” Jean had joined them and gently, he wrapped a tentacle around the Scout's waist.

“Shut up, Squid, if ya in need of a prince charming, go and read a fairy tale!”

Lukas had smiled along with the others, hoping his face wouldn't betray his thoughts. Tyler was right - he would never stay and watch Sydney with his lovers voluntarily. Of course he wouldn't dare to get close enough to his boss to...

He shook his head. The thought was absurd and frustrating.

“Big kids.” Sydney chuckled as another one of the many arguments between Tyler and Jean flared up. Then, he turned again to Lukas.

“I'm really sorry I left you behind and let you go home alone, after dragging you along in the first place. I owe you for accompanying me at all yesterday, dear. I'll promise I'll make up for it! You'll see, I already have an idea, we'll just...”

“Yeah, yeah, very touching. Get a room! Later.” Rudely, Tyler shoved the Tentaspy aside and jumped away before another tentacle could reach him. Quickly, he moved around the table and grabbed Lukas by his arm, dragging the surprised Spy with him.

“Come, I have to talk with you about something, about next week. NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, SQUID!”

The Bliss of Simplicity

(Sydney/O'Conner)

“Stop this bullshit, Squid!” “Ah non, mon petit, do not be shy. You will only be bored. Come, I will show you a better game than this.” None of the other men sitting at the table paid any attention when Jean wrapped one tentacle around Tyler's waist and another gently around the young man's annoyed face. They also ignored Tyler's harsh protests while he tried to push Jean and the perky tentacles away. The Scout's efforts were in vain, of course, and a few minutes later, the Tentaspy got his will. Reluctantly, but without real resistance, Tyler allowed Jean to drag him away from the table and out of the common room. Jo observed the pair out of the corner of her eyes and grinned at her brother. “This will never get old. Do you think we'll live long enough to witness Ty not putting up this prissy act?” “I hope not, my dear, I'd miss this show. Aren't they too adorable, the two darlings?” Syd chuckled. “O'Conner, please give me another one.” The dark man put the glass he was cleaning away and raised his eyebrows skeptically, first looking at the empty glass, then at the Sniper. “Ye sure ye ain't overdin' it?” Sydney put his elbows on the counter and let his chin rest on his hands. “Oh come on, honey. You cannot deny a hard working man the pleasure of a small drink after a long day. Or is there something... else you want to offer me instead?” Sydney added with a wide smile. “Sonny, you are unbelievable,” his sister scolded him. “Can't you even survive one evening without making mooneyes at someone?” Sydney snorted in feigned protest and gripped his shirt right above his heart. “My dear Jo, how can you say something like this! I'd never...” “Yeah, yeah, whatever, lad. Here ye go, just drink slowly, ye hear me?” O'Conner filled part of a clean tumbler with whiskey, another one with water and put both in front of the Sniper. The former Demoman and Jo chuckled at Sydney's enactment as much as the Sniper himself. “Listen to him. I doubt anyone of us is in the mood to carry you all the way downstairs to Martin in the middle of the night just because you have a blackout,” Jo couldn't resist lecturing him when he slowly nipped on his glass, carefully tasting the amber liquid. O'Conner had returned to his previous task and continued cleaning the remains of the earlier meeting. It was close to midnight and fortunately for the cook, tomorrow awaited them another busy day, so they hadn't decided to throw a party. Only a few drinks and a game of cards would do; this meant less work for him and he could find some time for a drink or two for himself in between. “My dear, it's lovely that you are worried about me, but you shouldn't. This is the second glass tonight. Besides, I'm only drinking to enjoy the taste.” He turned around and leaned with his back against the counter. With a gentle smile, he watched the men sitting around the table. He loved it when the members of his team had a good time together, especially when he could finally convince Lukas to take part in it actively . The young Spy's face was red and his eyes looked nervously from Riley to Nicolai and finally, at Matthew, who shoved the pile of coins and cigarettes in front of him in the middle of the table.

Sydney felt a hint of regret. He had tried to convince Martin to stay with them after the meeting as well, but the Medic had insisted upon leaving – too much work was waiting for him. So the German had left once the official part of the evening was over, taking William, the zombie with him. And as usual, Michael and Gabriel were missing, too. Sydney sighed and wondered if all his efforts would succeed one day, and he could welcome the twins as normal members of the team. He refused to acknowledge the doubt he felt. “Well, take your time with that taste of yours.” Jo thanked O'Conner for the two beer bottles he handed her and stood up from her bar stool. “Meanwhile, I'll join those kids and show them how this game is really played.” “Good idea, dear.” Sydney laughed and gave her a friendly slap on her shoulder. “Matthew has just lost the showdown. We don't want our charming Soldier to bore himself to death until this round is finished. I'm proud of my unselfish sister.” “Bite me, Syd!” she hissed and raised her free hand threateningly when he only chuckled. “Ouch, what was that for?” he protested when, instead of hitting him, she stepped on his foot. “You deserved it.” Her disapproving frown changed into a friendly, warm smile as she walked towards the table and took a seat between Riley and Matthew. Sydney had already forgotten about his stomped on toe and smiled as he observed how Matthew engaged Jo at once into a light-hearted conversation while Nicolai handed out the cards for himself and the rest of the remaining players. “It's amazing, first young Ty, and now Matthew lost against Lukas in a showdown. Me didn't think he'd be that good,” an amused voice growled behind Sydney, and he turned around, facing O'Conner. “Yeah, amazing is a good word. His poker-face is perfect.” Appreciatively, the Sniper nodded. The other man laughed. “Aye, because the lad's nervous and red like a beet, no matter if he holds a good hand or a bad hand!” “Be fair, my dear friend,” Sydney smiled softly. “It's not only his pretty face – he has always been a good tactician.” “Yeah, me knows, me knows, no worry. Me won't say anything mean about ye devoted assistant. What ye looking at me like this?” O'Conner's grin widened, showing two rows of perfect, white teeth that Sydney couldn't help admiring. The Scotsman pointed at his healthy eye. “This sharp eye ain't missing anything.” Both men grinned. O'Conner poured out a drink for himself from the same bottle he had used to fill Sydney's glass. Together, they watched their teammates for a while and discussed the game, chuckling when Nicolai's bluff failed and the pile in front of Lukas grew even more. The second cook glared warningly at them, and they lowered their voices at once. His usual gentle temper didn't mean he had forgotten all of his former profession as a Heavy. “Syd, why don't ye join them?” O'Conner suggested after Jo had asked for two more beer and returned to Matthew immediately. Sydney shivered when the low, growling voice spoke right beside him. He hadn't counted how much O'Conner had drank already. Although the Scotsman was still far from being drunk, he already spoke with the light slur the Sniper thought so charming. “Nah, not tonight.” He turned to the former Demoman and smiled. “Can't let you stand here all alone by your lonesome self, honey, can I?” Sydney's voice, too, was still a whisper. He picked up his glass and took a slow sip from the amber liquid while he looked straightly into O'Conner's good, brown eye. O'Conner laughed out loudly, and Sydney, again, admired the contrast between the white teeth and the dark skin and beard. “Don't ye worry about me, laddie, me's gonna be alright. And ye know, if me wanted, I could join ye guys.” The Sniper rolled his eyes and put his glass down. “Honey, I'm worried about your sharp eye.” He leaned over the counter and, this time, he spoke into the former Demoman's ear. “It has missed that I'm not interested in a game of cards tonight.” Once the Sniper moved away from him again, O'Conner seized him by the chin and held it with a firm grip. Intensely, he looked into Sydney's dark blue eyes. The Sniper's expression remained motionless. Then, a satisfied grin appeared on the Scotsman's face. “Aye, that's what I wanted to hear, boss.” He let go of him and reached for the bottle. “Have another drink, ye'll need it.” With a wink, he refilled their glasses one more time.

*

“With your laid-back smile, nobody would guess that you are such a sadist.” O'Conner chuckled. He had already climbed out of the bed, leaving Sydney lying on his back. The Sniper groaned in frustration, wanting more of the man's mouth on his dick and the strong fingers inside of him. Or better, O'Conner's hard cock finally pushed inside - but as it was, he wouldn't get anything of this soon. The Scotsman stood next to Sydney's bed and pointed at his own erection. “With ya flirtatious attitude, nobody would guess yer such a lazy bloke. Now move yer pretty ass and show me that yer mouth can do more than smile.” “Just wait, honey, you'll be begging to fuck me before you can say 'sadistic tease'.” Sydney couldn't hide a smile. If it had been his choice, he would have preferred this dick in his ass instead of his mouth this very moment. O'Conner really had a talent to leave him needy and wanting almost to the point of torture. He wouldn't enjoy this little game half as much if it were different. Besides, it was always a pleasure to suck him. Quickly, he went on his knees and once he had the hard length directly in front of his face, he let his tongue glide over the tip. He was tempted to take it in as far as he could right away, but if O'Conner wanted to be a tease, fine. Sydney knew how to play that game as well. Slowly, but with firm pressure, his tongue moved along the shaft and returned to the more sensitive parts. He noticed, with satisfaction, the long, appreciative sigh coming from O'Conner. “Told you so,” Sydney hummed more to himself while his lips finally enclosed around the glans. “Don't tell, show!” A hand took hold of Sydney's hair and held his head in place. With soft force, O'Conner shoved his dick between Sydney's lips. The Sniper opened his mouth wider only too willingly. He reached for the former Demoman's hips and let one hand wander over the dark skin. The other had ran through the wiry, black hair and felt for the soft, but already tensed skin of the testicles. Gently, with the same rhythm his tongue moved over and along the man's cock, the fingers began to massage them. Occasionally, he squeezed a bit harder, never to the point of causing pain - just enough to be rewarded with a pleased hiss. “Yer really something,” O'Conner growled contentedly.

Sydney looked up. The Scotsman grinned and observed him through his half-closed eye. A thumb placidly stroked through the Sniper's hair, but the grip hadn't loosened yet. So Sydney's tongue and jaws continued to work on their cook's dick while O'Conner kept thrusting into his mouth at a still deliciously unnerving, slow speed. “Alright, lad, I guess ye've earned yer reward.” O'Conner released the Sniper's head. “Reward? Darling, I guess you simply can't wait any longer,” Sydney replied with a smug grin and licked over his lips. He chuckled when the Scotsman his bent down and kissed him. The taste of whiskey reminded the Sniper why his head felt so light tonight. The cook had drank at least three times as much as Sydney, but obviously, the amount of alcohol had no effect on O'Conner. Right now, Sydney admired this strength, something he wouldn't do if he were feeling less giddy. He enjoyed the relaxed countenance and the firm hand of the smaller, but stronger man whose grin widened at Sydney's words. “Me likes a good challenge. Nah, just turn around,” O'Conner commanded when Sydney wanted to simply lie back and pull the Scotsman down with him. Sydney let go of his hand and did as he was told, again chuckling as a wide hand playfully slapped his ass. “Aye, we'll see who can't wait anymore.” With a laugh, O'Conner knelt between the opened legs. His hands stroked over Sydney's backside and slowly continued with the long limbs. “Ye really got nice legs, ye know,” O'Conner growled into the Sniper's ear, leaning over him. Sydney shivered at the coarse voice. He felt the heat from the other man's body on his back; O'Conner's massive hard-on was pressed firmly against his ass.

“Those aren't the only nice things I have to offer, honey.” Sydney grew impatient, but of course, the Scotsman didn't take any offense. “I'll take this as a 'fuck me already, dear O'Conner',” the former Demoman laughed. Sydney's chuckle turned into a groan when fingers covered with cold lube spread him and were pushed into his entrance. They left him again and for a moment nothing happened. Sydney felt that O'Conner was watching him and was probably delighted to see his boss shudder under his gaze. Before Sydney could say anything, the other man had mercy on him. Finally, the wide tip was pressed against his opening. Exhaling slowly, the Sniper sighed. His head rested on his folded hands while O'Conner slowly pushed in deeper, pausing in between, allowing the Sniper's body to relax around him. Loving the feeling of being stretched, Sydney shoved his body back against the Scot's pelvis. “Hey, yer job is ter hold still and enjoy the show.” O'Conner grabbed Sydney by his hips and stopped him from moving. Lowly, the Sniper cursed the man's seemingly endless patience and endurance. O'Conner laughed again and didn't think of changing anything about his speed at all. He pushed in his full length and paused once more. Sydney began to squirm, fighting against the grip that still hindered him from gaining any control. “Come on, don't treat your boss like this!” he panted, only half jokingly. Sydney enjoyed the teasing, but with his mind still blurred with whiskey, it became harder to remain patient. “Ah, like me ever would not listen to me boss. Gimme ye hands!” Sydney reached behind himself, his face resting on the pillow. O'Conner let go of his hip, leaned forward and intertwined his fingers with Sydney's. He pulled their hands behind the Sniper's back and pressed them down, right above Sydney's buttocks. Sydney shifted his body, trying to move his hips to finally feel the Scotsman move inside of him. In this position, however, bent over and without his arms and hands supporting him, he was almost as helpless as before. “Tonight, laddie, the boss isn't on duty. So ye better not try ter order me around before tomorrow.” Sydney made an amused snort. The next second, he cried out. All of a sudden, O'Conner began to thrust. From one moment to the other, the slowness was forgotten and the Scotsman pulled out and pushed in again almost forcefully. Sydney groaned and struggled once more against O'Conner's grip – he wanted at least one hand free and stroke himself. The built-up tension had become unbearable, and release was so close. As expected, O'Conner didn’t set him free. This was a part of their game and as Sydney hadn't heard him pant yet, he could guess that the game would still last for a while. At this point, the Sniper wasn't sure if O'Conner's endurance was a blessing or a curse. Either way, it was wonderful; the Scotsman knew how to drive him crazy and his dick had just the right size to fill and stretch him without hurting him. Or maybe he had to thank O'Conner's skilled hands and patience. Sydney didn't care how and why; he felt coming closer with each deep, hard thrust. Any moment, he would finally come - just from the intense impulses his nerves were sending through his groin and up his spine whenever O'Conner pushed in deep enough. Of course that would have been too easy. The Sniper's arms fell limply onto the mattress when O'Conner let go of them. To Sydney's dismay, the Scot removed himself completely from his body. “Seriously, darling,” Sydney groaned, panting heavily. Sweat ran down his face and covered his back and he couldn't stop shivering. “If you weren't already working in the kitchen, I'd send you there to peel potatoes!” The empty threat earned him another slap on his ass. “If ye need it so bad, why don't ye just come and get what ye want?” O'Conner made himself comfortable right beside Sydney, sprawling out on the bed. He crossed his arms behind his head and grinned widely at the Sniper. Sydney's eyes wandered from the wonderful white teeth to the equally wonderful, still fully erected organ. This was an invitation he accepted with delight. Still shaking, he swung one leg over O'Conner's lap, straddling him. With his hand holding the Scot's length in place, Sydney eased his hips downward. This time, the welcome intrusion went inside easily. Finally being the one to control their movements, Sydney suddenly wasn't so eager for a higher speed anymore. Slowly, he began to ride the other man, loving to feel the hard cock move so smoothly inside of him. His hands ran over O'Conner's wide chest. The Scotsman might not have been groaning and panting like Sydney did, but the thin layer of sweat that covered the dark skin was evidence enough of the man's excitement. The Sniper's gaze focused on O'Conner's face. Sydney liked the strong features and the relaxed smile. O'Conner had closed his eye; he was obviously enjoying having Sydney ride him. With the black beard and the eye-patch, the man always emitted a wild, almost dangerous aura – Sydney hadn't been surprised when he had been lucky to discover O'Conner's dominant nature a while ago. A low growl came from the Scot's throat. Sydney trailed hand down the man's body, over the abdomen, until he had reached and taken hold of his own cock. Stroking himself, it was easier – delightful actually – to endure the slow speed of the thrusts.

It was not for long. As Sydney felt himself coming closer again, his movements became faster. He leaned backward a bit, making it easier for the cock inside of him to brush over the sensitive, inner spot with almost every push. “Gimme yer hands.” “Not again...” Sydney hadn't been aware that he had closed his eyes, so he hadn't noticed he was being watched. O'Conner's fingers gently pulled Sydney's hand away from himself. Being held by both of his wrists, Sydney's upper body was dragged towards the former Demoman's chest. “Ye have ter learn ter be patient, young lad,” O'Conner chuckled. He pulled him a bit closer and kissed him. Eagerly, Sydney answered the kiss, hungrily searching for the other man's tongue. “Can't move fast like this,” he breathed when O'Conner broke the kiss. “Aye... guess in that case, ye have to take it slow.” “Damn you, O'Conner, you are a cruel, sadistic bastard! God, I love that!” The Sniper's growl changed into a moan when the Scotsman again took control and thrust in deeply. “Heh, me knows, boss, me knows.” Sydney's head rested on O'Conner's shoulder. He could smell the scent of fresh sweat and aftershave, a mix that clouded his mind along with the remains of the intoxication. To his relief, O'Conner hadn't been serious about taking it slow. He had seized the Sniper's hips again and held them firmly while he thrust hard and fast. The hoarse groan that finally came from the Scot turned Sydney on as much as being fucked hard. And slow. Both. As long as he was fucked by this man and could hear him moan and growl right into his ear. “Time for a break, right?” O'Conner's voice sounded breathless now, but the Sniper only noticed the words in his dismay. “You... honey, you want to kill me, don't you?” Sydney panted heavily when O'Conner really stopped moving. The Sniper's whole body was covered in sweat and he shivered.

He tried to take what he needed. Desperately, he hoped to gain the few final sensations from the dick inside and from the friction when his own cock glided over the Scot's stomach. Again, he was at O'Conner's mercy. “Yer really fuckin' hot when ye squirm and moan like this,” the Scot chuckled. At this point, he decided that Sydney had suffered enough.

He removed his hands from the shaking hips, and at once, the Sniper arched backwards. Sitting on O'Conner's lap with a straight back, his hands clinging to the man's muscular legs for support, Sydney rode him hard. When O'Conner's fingers wrapped around his shaft, Sydney found it difficult to maintain his fast, steady rhythm. He cried out when finally, just when he thought the pressure would only grow stronger and never end, a last stroke and another firm thrust brought him release. His head tilted back. He gasped for air, suddenly feeling dizzy. His muscles were exhausted, but before he would simply collapse, O'Conner pulled him down and kissed him again. Sydney felt his own semen sticking between their bodies when O'Conner put a hand on his back and pulled him a bit closer. His cheek resting against the Scot's, Sydney listened to the heavy panting while O'Conner continued to fuck him a little bit longer. His own nerves tingled – soon, the stimulation would be too much. Right now, feeling the hard cock was almost more intense than before, now that his own need was satisfied and didn't distract him. The growl when O'Conner finally came sent a shiver down his spine – if Sydney hadn't already, he would have been driven over the edge now. When a sudden pain flared his shoulder, the Sniper hissed in surprise.

*

With an understanding smile, Victoria observed the dozing babies when Jean could finally embrace his lover and kiss him with a passion he only reluctantly restrained.

“You look tired,” Jean worried once he let him go. His fingers ran through the white hair. Water dripped from the long, soft curls. The temperature of their water was mild, but outside, it quickly cooled off. “Maybe you should rest some more, love.”

The young man shoved his hand away and rolled his eyes.

“I know best if I need more sleep or not, thank you. I'm fine and I wanted to see you. Oh my god, they hatched?”

Victoria stifled a giggle and stepped aside, making room for the youth. Thirty-five years or not, the younger tenta didn't only look like an older teen - his mood could swing from heavily annoyed with his overprotective older lover to utter delight within seconds. He had already forgotten about Jean and leaned over the edge of the glass box with a happy smile. In his excitement, his cheeks downright glowed with pink in contrast to his otherwise pallid face.

“They are so cute!” He was completely enraptured by the sight of the curled up, sleeping babies. At his voice, they opened their eyes and blinked at him, two of them yawned, revealing their miniature fangs.

“Louis, darling, calm down, you scare them...” Jean tried to warn the young man, but Louis still ignored him. Instead, he reached out his hand and carefully tickled the blue one's stomach with the tip of his claw-like fingernail.

Jean expected at least one of the little ones to bite the perky albino any second, he would have bet his head on this.

Fortunately for him, betting wasn't one of his habits - to his surprise, nothing happened. Maybe Jean had already soothed them or they didn't feel any threat from Louis, he didn't know.

The blue one gave a playful growl and his little hands already clung to Louis' finger. The others observed them without any fear and several, colorful tentacles curiously reached forward and carefully wrapped themselves loosely around the white, delicate wrist.

The red one, who Jean thought to be the most aggressive of the bunch, boldly crawled closer and climbed into Louis' now open hand.

His red eyes shining with delight, the youth gently shook the tiny tentacles off and picked the red baby up. Carefully, his fingertip ran through the short, soft hair. The baby snarled when its neck was tickled, but it didn't bite. Instead, it's thin tentacles poked in protest against the finger until Louis continued to pet its head.

Jean watched the little scene. The happy smile on his lover's face and the sparkling eyes made it so easy to forget about Louis' condition. Instead, he felt again why he fell in love with the young man. Despite his weak body, Louis could have a fiery temper, and his youth only added to it. Beside that, however, he had this soft, warm side and when he loved, it was honest and unconditionally.

Well, most of the time.

Only reluctantly, Louis turned away from the new born and gazed at Jean, his eyes wide open and yearning. Jean knew what would come next, and he already began to feel sick.

“Louis, please don't...”

“Jean, I want children, too!”

The older man didn't answer. He had feared this would happen again from the moment they learned that Joli, the babies' mother, was expecting. Louis kept staring at him with a stubborn frown.

It was Victoria who finally interrupted the silence.

“Louis,” she began to explain slowly, not for the first time, “with all due respect to your wish... no, please listen!” Sadly, she shook her head when the young man looked at her full of hope.

“I have to tell you again that your body is too weak for breeding.”

“But... I don't feel bad. I got new medication, and I'm sure the attacks will...” Desperately, he looked from Jean to Victoria and back to his lover.

“Louis, I'm sorry, but it would kill you, “ Victoria cut him off. Jean knew that she hated to be cruel to the young man who she had raised with her own hands, but he nodded. She spoke the truth and she was right to do so – it wouldn't help anyone, especially not Louis, if she supported him by cherishing false hopes. Meanwhile, he could only hope that Louis wouldn't ask one of the other scientists – he wasn't too confident that their concern about Louis' life outmatched their interest in breeding. Fortunately, the youth usually respected the woman's opinion. Which didn't mean that he would give up easily.

“But Jean could...”

“NON! Once and for all, forget it!” He regretted his outburst at once.

Louis began to tremble and the usually hardly visible markings on his white skin and tentacles already turned dark. He was too upset and under stress.

“Louis, please, calm down. You know it's not good for you when you get overexcited.” Now sick with worry, Jean tried to comfort him, but the younger man only got angrier and pushed him away.

“Why do you refuse it so consequently? You haven't even really thought about it! You said you love me!” There it was, the fiery side of him that made it so hard to reason with him. Jean knew that his lover didn't mean half of what he said when he was angry, but it still hurt.

“Chéri, more than anything, you know that. But...”

“But, but, always 'but'! There is no 'but'! Why wouldn't you do that for me? Why do you deny me this one wish when you know how important it is for me?”

Irritated, Jean's hand ran through his own hair and he tried to keep calm. Yes, Louis could be demanding, in his temper and wishes. Yet, Jean had always shown endless patience with him. When Louis wasn't angry, his wilder side turned him into the ardent lover Jean cared for as deeply as for the dreamy, easily delighted one. Having to deal with a more blusterous Louis once in a while was something he accepted as the part of the deal. Sometimes, however, it was very difficult, especially whenever it came to this specific question.

“Louis.”

After inhaling deeply, Jean found it easier to speak calmly and with understanding. “They told you how often they had to try until Francis and Umba finally got pregnant. You also know how many of the babies were stillborn or died soon after birth. Even if I wanted too, I'm one of the first. I wasn't born like this, unlike you and your siblings. The risk that the babies are born dead is too high. And what about me? My body wasn't born to bear children. It would be a lot harder than it was for Joli.”

Gently, he took the red baby from Louis' hand. The little one bit him in protest, but he hardly noticed it. He put it back to its siblings and watched how it scurried over to its purple brother and huddled against him and Jean's tentacle. The green one had curled up against his dark blue skin and really fallen asleep while the others tumbled through the box and snarled and hissed at each other whenever one fell over the other.

Joli, or Subject 7, as all the scientists except Victoria called her, had been perfect - almost as perfect as a pure tenta would have been. The humans had already had a lot more experience than they had when Louis and his siblings were born, and Joli's body was in a good condition and she had willingly agreed to the experiment.

All precautions hadn't been enough. Everything had gone smoothly and they had been optimistic that, this time, there wouldn't be any real problems. For some reason they still didn't know why things changed dramatically shortly before she gave birth. None of the scientists could tell if the process itself had weakened her or if the unhatched babies had required a higher nutrient supply than she could provide.

In the end, they had to remove the eggs from her body. Since that day, she had been under medical supervision. She was too weak to eat or even breathe without help. The wound from the Caesarean operation didn't heal at first and when the pain of the infection threatened to kill her she had been put into an artificial coma. At least, she had survived, but it would still take a while until she would completely recover, if at all.

Even the scientists would rather breed with one of the born tentas than with Jean. The past results had shown that even if the deliverer died, the chances of survivable babies would be higher. To ensure the survival of everyone involved, they needed even more experience, namely – more trial and error. If they really understood what killed – or almost killed – the parent they could find ways to prevent it.

So maybe there would be, one day, the possibility that Jean or Louis would survive, but only in a far away future.

Using Joli for a second time was too risky - she would probably die before the eggs would be ready to be incubated. Louis and the other albinos were simply too weak to begin with and those born after them wouldn't be fertile anytime soon. It would take years until the procedure of breeding tentas would cease to be risky and complicated.

A double-edged sword, in the eyes of the scientists. They wanted and needed results. Especially those who feared they would have to retire before they could collect any satisfying data were impatient. On the other hand most of them shrugged the failure off as causalities. It was the same as it had been when Jean was made. They had expected to fail. It was unfortunate when a parent or the babies died, but calculated. There was always something new to learn, even from the cadavers.

Jean shivered when he thought of that one room they weren't allowed to enter. He was glad he had escaped seeing it form inside as a corpse when he had survived his own surgery, and he would certainly go mad if the door closed behind Louis.

The youth, however, didn't want to share Jean's worries, even when he knew his older lover was right. Those were facts he didn't want to know.

“I..it... it's not fair!” Louis began to stutter and defiantly, his hands clenched to fists. The speed of his breathing increased alarmingly.

“Louis, please!” Jean felt helpless. He was not sure what he should do. Yes, he had told him the truth. Maybe he should have been less bluntly about it, but in the end, it wouldn't have changed the facts.

“Sweetie, please, you have to calm down! You know this is not good for your heart!” Victoria was as worried as Jean. She put her wrinkled hand on Louis' shoulder, but neither the comforting gesture nor her soothing voice calmed him down and he pushed her hand away immediately.

“No! I won't accept this! There has to be... you made us, so why can't you... it cannot be impossible!” The newborns shrieked out and huddled together when Louis almost shouted the last words. He blinked in their direction and collapsed.

“Louis!”

The dark markings had disappeared and the ashen face was covered with cold sweat. Jean and Victoria bent over him at once, but the unconscious, heavily panting youth did not hear them.

*

White hair floated in the water and framed the silent face like a cloud. Louis had been fast asleep since his breakdown a few hours ago without regaining conscious once. A respiratory mask made sure he wouldn't drown in the pool whenever his head sank under the surface, but their kinds' inability to breathe under water wasn't the only reason.

The last attack was one of the worst he'd had lately and, with the one prior this day, he had been weakened. The risk of breathing interruptions was too high.

“Fool...” Gently, Jean's fingers played with the long hair while he watched the worryingly calm face of his lover. He had climbed into the water once the respirator and the machines to monitor Louis' vital signs had been adjusted. Fortunately, nobody objected when he insisted to stay close to the young man, a circumstance that worried him more than Jean wanted to admit.

He floated next to him, spoke lowly random words and brought him back to the surface whenever the water covered Louis' head completely.

Since the day Louis had been born, Jean had wanted to protect him and his siblings. A wish that had become stronger when the boy grew older and into a young man. With all he was and all he had, Jean wanted to keep all harm away from his lover, but from the very first day of Louis' life he had been forced to realize that he was powerless. There was nothing he could do against the weakness of the heart. All he could do was hope that he would wake up soon, forced to accept the fact that with each severe attack he recovered from, Louis would be a bit weaker than before. He loathed how the feeling of being helpless overwhelmed him whenever he was restricted to waiting.

Not for the first time during the last hours, Jean thought about Louis' wish while he watched the young man's delicate features. How could Louis not be aware of the consequences of his selfish demand? Louis' own mother was dead. Joli was still in a coma, and nobody knew when she would wake up.

He would do anything for Louis. As long as it was in his powers, he would fulfill him any wish. If it really wasn't in his powers, he would find a way.

Yes, he would even die for him, but...

Not like this.

Not for something this temperamental, stubborn and still sometimes childish youth refused to think through.

Or would he really so willingly risks his, Jean's, life? Wasn't he aware that Jean would most certainly die? Or was this certain wish so important to him that he didn't care, that the loss of his lover wouldn't matter?

“Idiot...” When Jean's words of comfort hadn't reached him, he had begun to curse and gently scold him. He simply had no idea what else he could do.

“You... you hate me now, don't you?”

Louis' weak voice, muffled by the mask, interrupted his racing thoughts. Relieved to finally see him awake, but also appalled by the words, Jean stared at him.

“Chéri! Why would you think of something like this! Of course not!” Carefully, he moved under the fragile body. Swimming on his back, he held Louis' upper body over water, as if he was saving a drowning man.

“I could never hate you.”

Louis shoved the mask from his face. With the back of his head leaning against Jean's shoulder, he inhaled deeply.

Jean genuinely hoped that they were done with the topic for now. He wished Louis would simply let it rest and never speak of it again. Even better, Louis should stop thinking about it at all. It was unreasonable; and discussing it over and over again wouldn't gain them anything. The only result would always be to upset the young albino, and cause him more pain, emotionally and physically.

However, he knew Louis only too well. Forgetting about it would have been too easy; weak as the youth's body might have been, his will was strong - to the point of sheer stubbornness. If he had made up his mind about something, he would try everything to make it true. Like persistently charming a certain tenta who, at first, hesitated to accept his own and the younger ones feelings because he thought it wouldn't be appropriate for someone twice as old. Jean loved him fervently for this. Sometimes, however, like today, this beloved aspect of the young man's character could be very demanding.

“But I...”

“Louis, please...” Jean sighed. So it really wasn't over yet.

“I hate... this body...I hate myself!”

With another sad sigh, Jean let his arms tighten around the youth's waist and he pressed him closer to his body.

This wasn't the first time this had happened and as usual, the desperate, self-despising tone of Louis' voice made him wince.

The older Louis became, the more he had to struggle with depressions. While he had still been a child, in years and mentality, he had started to realize that there was no place for dreams in his life, not outside the laboratories. What he had heard and read about the outside world would always remain a story to him. Even if the scientists had allowed his adventurous soul to go away – his body would have been too weak. The more his sickness restrained him, the more Louis hated himself.

“You are beautiful, mon chèr. Not only your face and your body.” Lovingly, he caressed the young man's cheek, still holding him close with his other arm. His tentacles felt for Louis', and tenderly, he let them entangle. “Your temper, your smile... who you are... all this is beauty. How can you say something so harsh about yourself?”

Frustrated, Louis' tentacles broke free from Jean's gentle grip.

“How? Do you really have to ask? Can't you see it? I'm weak! So damn weak! My life depends on these damned machines, and on the mercy and care of others! I'm not allowed to do anything! Whatever I wish for is denied!” His hands clenched to the arm covering his stomach so fiercely that his sharp, claw-like fingernails almost broke through the sturdy skin. He laughed bitterly.

“Why are they doing it anyway? I'm waste. I'd be more useful to them when dead. Why all these efforts to keep me alive?”

Every word stung.

This wasn't just an outburst of a youth who would say anything in his disappointment for not having his will. Jean sensed that Louis meant and felt what he said. Even worse, there had been moments when he had asked himself the same question. He was, of course, more than happy that the scientists did all they could for Louis' health. However, he would be less scared every time his lover suffered from another attack if he understood the motives. Being oblivious of their plans, he had to fear that they might change their mind at anytime. He didn't know what he would do if that happened, but this was a 'what if?' he didn't want to think about.

No matter how much he understood Louis' pain, this was not all that hurt him when the young man talked liked like this

“Louis, my love. I... and what we have, doesn't that mean anything? Doesn't it count anymore?”

With a sulky growl, Louis, still on top of Jean, turned around and faced his older lover. The cables and sensors that had been attached to his wrist and chest snapped away at the sudden, violent movement. He didn't say it, but Jean saw he was sorry, but also still frustrated.

“Of course it counts, it's all that counts. Of course I didn't mean it like that! But still... it's just... Jean, all this... why?” He held his hand up in front of Jean's eyes; the impressions of the sensors and small bruises of injections were clearly visible on the white skin. “What's the meaning of all this, my life? Isn't it pointless?”

The forceful movements of his upset lover had almost sent him underwater. Jean changed his position to keep them both over the surface. Again, he wrapped his arms around Louis and pulled him into a close embrace.

“Don't say something like this, never again. I beg you, mon coeur.” It was one of the rare moments when he didn't hide his own desperation and sorrow from the young man.

“I'm nothing without you. You are the only happiness in this dull, monotonous life. I need you. When you... when you talk like this I'm scared – scared to lose you! How should I live without you...” Sharing his deepest fear left his voice hoarse, forcing him to whisper into his lover's ear. As they did before with his arm, Louis' fingers now clawed into Jean's shirt.

The warmth they shared through their bodies and love was all they had, Louis knew that as well as Jean.

Only free to move between tiled walls and to swim in narrow pools, their life was cold. They only seemed to exist to humor the curiosity of others, and they were cold to them, too. Life, breeding, death. Tests, failures, more tests. Success – more tests. It was dull and never ended.

Victoria, the only human who felt and showed heartfelt kindness would soon be gone. With Louis' birth, the young man had become the only purpose in Jean's life. First like a father, then a friend and finally – a lover. Despite the number of his years, Louis was still young, but he wasn't blind to the importance of their bond. Even if only vaguely, he was aware that he was as important to Jean as the older man to him. What else did they have anyway?

“Jean,” he finally whispered, “I'm scared. Something is different.”

Jean remained silent and pressed him even tighter against his body. Louis was right. This wasn't just another crazy or paranoid idea of a depressed youth. The way they were treated by the humans had become worse than usual lately; many of them didn't even try anymore to maintain a polite manner with Jean and the others. Sometimes, the atmosphere was close to hostile instead of simply disrespectful. Now that he thought about it, today gave him another reason to wonder. Usually, when the babies had hatched, everyone used to be in a good, delighted mood that could be sensed through the whole building. Even after Victoria had informed him, he neither saw nor felt any sign of the usual triumph.

'Then again, who knows how sick Joli really is. Knowing them, another failure in their precious data irks them more than the birth of the babies makes them happy,' Jean mused grimly, but he kept the thought to himself.

Louis had always been sensitive to the rough behavior of the scientists. He had never completely overcome the day he had been told by an especially cruel young doctor that he was nothing but a test subject and that the only meaning of his existence was to shut up until asked and to provide data.

In hindsight, Jean was glad that Victoria had interfered in time and stopped him when he was about to tear the human to pieces. He wouldn't have been of any help if they had found a way to get rid of him if they decided he was too dangerous. Still, even many years later, he was far from forgiving this careless remark, especially when Louis was clinging to him like he did today.

So whatever it was that caused the weird behavior of the humans - for now, comforting his lover was more important. He would talk about the rest with Victoria later. If something was really amiss, she would have told him anyway by now anyway.

Still, he couldn't shrug off this weird feeling, and Louis talking about his fear made it uncomfortably real. It was nothing he could describe, only a sense of foreboding he didn't like at all.

“I want to leave, Jean. You know the outside world, show it to me.”

This wish wasn't new - it was older than Louis' desire to have children. Since he had been a child himself and learned that there was more than the laboratories in this world, he yearned to see more.

They weren't confined to the basement; if they wanted they could get the permission to swim outside. However, Louis' request had always been denied because of his bad health – not only the physical strain would have been dangerous for him, also the excitement.

“Louis, love, you know that is not possible. Your condition...”

“My condition, my condition! That's all what you are talking about lately. Today is one bad day! I have good days, too! What can go wrong when you are coming with me?”

For a moment, Jean feared Louis would become upset again, but despite the reproachful tone of his voice, the young man remained calm. While this was good as it wouldn't give Louis' heart more trouble, it was painful for Jean.

“My dear, you know you need medical care. And what if another bad day happens?”

“I know, it's just a silly dream, that's what you want to tell me, right?” This time, Louis' laughed less bitterly. The sadness, however, remained.

“I'm sorry, I make things difficult for you with my childish wishes. Sometimes I wonder why you love a childish, broken thing like me...”

“Fool,” Jean chided softly. He broke away from the embrace and carefully, he took Louis' hands, that still held tightly to his shirt, in his. “I love you because you are how you are, with all your tempers, cockiness and small and big wishes. And I think you know that very well, mon chèr!” he added with a chuckle when a faint smile appeared on Louis' face. Jean was relieved - this crisis was as good as over. Before he could stop himself, he spoke on.

“I'll talk to Victoria. Maybe, when you feel better, she will allow me to take you outside for an hour or two. But only if you promise to tell me at once when you need to rest or return!”

The faint smile widened, and the sad expression of Louis' face brightened.

“Are you serious? Jean, do you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it, my love. Have I ever not kept my promises?”

The lecture Jean had to expect from Victoria would last longer than one or two hours; he could imagine what the elderly woman would think of his request.

Worse, he knew that she would be right to try and convince them to forget about the idea, but Jean simply didn't have the heart to talk Louis out of it. One little, short adventure; it would make the young man so happy, how could he not try to fulfill this wish? That was something the lecture would be about as well, again.

Jean almost snorted when he thought of past arguments with Victoria. So, what if he spoiled Louis? He loved him, it was his right to do everything for him to make him smile like he did now. As long as it didn't kill them. The grateful hug he received was more than worth a bit of trouble.

Suddenly, Louis turned around in his arms, and both stared with wide eyes to the door.

A gunshot and a high-pitched scream tore up the silence.

More shots and screams followed when the first one died away. People were talking loudly, upset and excited. Familiar voices cried for help and fell silent.

“What...?!” Louis abruptly turned his head around and looked at Jean, his eyes wide with fear.

The door flew open.

Jean seized Louis by the shoulder and pushed the youth behind him. Protectively, he stood in front of him, stretching to his full size, to shield his lover with his own body.

Threateningly, he bared his teeth.

He didn't relax when he saw it was Victoria, who hastened inside and slammed the door shut.

Sweat ran from her forehead, and the already tightly groomed hair stuck even more to her head. Her wide eyes looked too big for her small, ashen face. To see her was the lesser evil, but even without her saying anything, Jean knew that her news couldn't bear anything good for them.

“Renouard! Obstruct the door! HURRY!” she shouted, her voice alarmingly hoarse and shrill, but he had no time to worry about her condition.

Quickly, he moved out of the water and shoved one of the cabinets in front of the door.

“What's going on? What's happening outside?” He tried to keep the panic he felt out of his voice while he hurried to assist her with the table she was trying to move on her own.

More roughly than intended in his anxiety, he shoved her aside.

She began to cry.

He paused a second and looked at her, realizing that she had to have been crying before.

And he saw her work coat was covered with blood.

“Victoria...” Distraught, he grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her. “What is going on?” he asked again, with more intense than before. He had seen her moved and sad, even mourning, in the past, but never like this. Remembering the bad feeling he had, he froze when she finally spoke.

“You have to flee! Hurry! Through the sewer, out of the base, as far away as possible, as fast as you can! I know, it's crazy, but... but...” Again, she burst into tears; her words were impossible to understand between her sobs.

“Far away... out of the base... Victoria!”

“They've canceled the project!” she yelled. “Not enough results, costs too high! They are killing them! Jean! 'Destroy all subjects immediately without exception.'! That's the order! That's happening now! Get out of here, at once!”

“No...” Jean let go of the hysterical woman. So it was finally happening. His ever present fear about his existence, now it was becoming reality. Not only for him, the obsolete relict, but for all of them. Every single one of them.

Horrified, he turned to Louis. The youth had listened in silent terror, covering his mouth with one hand like this was all that could keep him from screaming.

“Please, you have to leave! I beg you, my friend, just go! Before they burn...” Despite she was shaking from crying so hard, she began to push Jean towards the water channel.

“But...” He kept looking at Louis. “How.. no, we can't! You know we can't just...”

She shook her head and inhaled deeply. For a moment, the tears stopped flowing.

“You have no choice but try. Yes, maybe it's suicide. But if you stay, you will be killed for sure. It's your only chance,” she spoke with a sudden calmness and Jean knew she was serious. He nodded.

“The children... what's with the babies?” Louis asked. He had left the water and hurried over to them, as fast as his tentacles allowed him to move on solid ground.

“They were... the first ones... I could do nothing. Nothing! Dead! They are all dead! They simply broke their necks!” Her knees gave in and she fell to the floor. “I didn't know... I swear to you, I didn't know anything! They didn't tell me! Why didn't I see it coming? Igor knew, Greg knew! Even the new guys knew! WHY DIDN'T ANYBODY TELL ME?” She screamed the last words and began to cry again. Jean bent down and tried to his arms around her, but she pushed him away.

“GO! I beg you! GO NOW! Don't let them kill you, too!”

They had arrived.

From outside, they heard the voices of other scientists and strangers. Forcefully, they banged against the door. The cabinet moved a few inches with every impact. Soon, the door would be open enough to squeeze through, or the furniture would fall over.

Desperately, Jean looked at Louis. The pattern on his skin was glowing a bright purple; his expression was unreadable. Jean lowered his gaze to the woman kneeling in front of him. She was rocking to and fro, like a weeping child, gibbering. It broke his heart that this would be the last impression he would have of his dear, old friend.

But this didn't matter now.

Louis mattered, and when his markings looked like this, he was in danger.

“Come!”

“But...!”

“COME! NOW!” he shouted at the albino, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the channel.

“But we can't...”

Ignoring the the young man's protests, Jean pushed him into the water. Instinctively, they filled their lungs with air and dived under. As fast as they could, they swam towards the exit.

Only seconds later, the room was stormed by half a dozen men armed with guns. What happened then, they did not know.

*

Soon, they were close to the exit of the building that lead into a wide river.

The water became colder, and even that far away from the rooms where the slaughter had happened, the water tasted of blood.

Jean had to drag Louis along – the younger tenta was paralyzed. Swimming like this was difficult and he had to return to the surface more often. He also had to take care of Louis who would simply have drowned if Jean hadn't pulled him up to inhale as well.

They were slow.

“Louis, please! Move already!” he pleaded and shook him the next time they emerged. Hating himself for it, but not knowing what else to do, Jean slapped him. Finally, Louis eyes began to lose their empty gaze. The pain he saw in them was almost impossible to bear.

“It's insane...” Louis whispered, but this time, he dove under and swam on his own.

Soon, they left the artificial water channel.

The water in the river was cold and both felt chilly.

Jean wondered where they should go. Louis had never been outside before and Jean almost got sick with ache when he thought of their prior conversation.

He himself hadn't left the building for quite a while now, and when he had been outside, he had never spent much thought on possible shelters for them. He already felt horribly lost and he could only imagine how much worse it was for Louis. This wasn't the first time Jean had lost his life and found himself confronted with a whole new environment. It was hard, but he knew he could manage.

But would Louis? The laboratories had been his home and the home of his family. He had never known anything else, and even if the youth had cursed it sometimes, it had been were he had belonged and felt safe.

Now they would never again be able to return. They had no idea where to go or what to do; their chances to survive their escape unharmed weren't good at all. They had no friends in this world, no relation, nobody they could ask for help. The moment they would show themselves to a human being there would be only one word for them.

Monsters.

So they continued swimming downstream and only paused to breathe air. They were lucky that the river was just deep enough for them to move unhindered, but they were close to the surface. It was a beautiful, sunny day, but they weren't used to the sun.

The skin on their upper bodies and tentacles felt the heat and soon the first signs of a sunburn. By the way Louis' hand clung to his Jean knew how uncomfortable the young man felt, but right now, this was their smallest problem.

The route of the river was straight and not far away from a road. If their pursuers were still after them, they wouldn't have a hard time finding them. However, soon Louis' grip became weaker and Jean decided they would have to rest soon if he wanted to prevent the worst from happening.

'Please hang in there. Only a bit more.'

He chose the left way when the river split and was relieved when his memory didn't mislead him.

Surrounded by a forest, they finally stopped.

The lake was large, even a bit larger than their basin. The water was a bit stale, but warm from the sun. The only noises came from the trees when the wind moved the rustling branches. It was a mild summer day and the warm air would soon begin to dry their hair. The treetops shielded the two men from too much of the burning sunlight; those rays coming through reflected by lush, dark green leaves and grass.

Small fishes swam in the lake and curiously circled around the new visitors who so frantically had intruded their peaceful home.

For almost four hours they had been swimming. Maybe it still wasn't enough, but Jean was exhausted, and Louis...

Jean shuddered when he looked at his lover and refused to think about the wonder that he had made it so far, after already collapsing twice this day. This wasn't the look of being sick on his face anymore.

Slowly, Louis reached the pond bank and leaned over it. The markings on his back faded from dark purple to a soft rose color; the otherwise white skin looked gray in the shadow cast by the trees.

Panting heavily, his claws dug into the soft, moist earth.

“Are you all right?” The question sounded ridiculous in his own ears, but Jean couldn't think of anything else to say. Alarmed, he rushed to his lover's side.

Louis didn't answer.

The feeling of being helpless overwhelmed Jean while he could only watch how the man he loved coughed and fought for air.

Everything had happened so fast. The gunshots, the screams. Victoria's tears, her pleas to hurry and escape.

Too suddenly. All this was happening too suddenly, it was surreal, even for him.

“Dear God... I can't even imagine how you feel...” Carefully, he put his hand on Louis' back. All he wanted to do was pressing the young man to his body, as tightly as he could, but that was not possible, not when Louis was in such a state that he didn't even hear when Jean talked to him.

“Jean... I can't... anymore...” he faintly whimpered and his breathing became quicker and shallow.

“It's all right, love, we are safe here. We can stay and you'll rest as long as you need. We have all the time we want to find a new home after that, don't worry. I'll protect you,” he assured him and gently, he caressed the waxen face.

“No, Jean, it's not that... God, no...” Louis hand clenched to his shirt right above his heart. His face was distorted in pain and panic rose in Jean.

“No! Please, no! Not now!” He seized the young man and pulled him back into the water. Like hours before in their pool, he kept Louis over water, hoping that this position would help him to breathe more easily.

“Calm down, Louis. It's fine. We are safe. Breathe slowly, very slowly and stop thinking about what happened. Just calm down and you will be fine.” He couldn't fight the tears coming to his eyes. There was nothing he could do to help Louis when this was really another heart attack.

“Everything will be fine, trust me. We have come this far, you hear me? We will be fine, I promise you! Haven't I always kept my promises?” He rambled on and on, and finally, his voice broke off. He held the youth close and one hand restlessly ran through the white hair. The tears began to run down his face while the weak young man in his arms didn't stop trembling.

“Louis, my love, I beg you...”

Breathing became more and more difficult. Groaning under the effort, Louis turned around as much as he could and looked at Jean; his gaze beginning to lose focus. His face, too, was covered with tears from the pain and suddenly, his body was writhing.

“Jean... it hurts so much,” he cried out of breath.

The world around them disappeared when Jean couldn't deny what was happening anymore. While he had tried to fight his tears to not upset the youth even more, he simply let them flow until his vision became blurry. There was nothing he could do, yet he refused to believe it.

“No, please no, Louis! Don't do that, you can't do that to me! You have to stay with me, you hear? Don't leave me! Don't leave me alone!”

“Jean...” Louis gasped and convulsed violently in Jean's arms and fought desperately for air. Helplessly, his tentacles tried to wrap around Jean's.

For the next long twenty minutes, all Jean could do was watching how Louis fought. Then, all of a sudden, the youth's eyes widened. Almost painfully, the tentacles clung to Jean.

A last, hoarse, rattling gasp escaped Louis' throat.

Then, it was over.

The body went limp and the head fell onto Jean's chest. The empty gaze faced the sky above them. He had stopped breathing, the fight was over.

Louis was dead.

“Non! Ce n'est pas vrai! Ce ne passe pas! Louis! Reponds-moi! Louis!” Jean turned him around, shook him, and finally, pressed the lifeless, still warm body against his chest.

“LOUIS!”

*

A few months later, he returned to the laboratories.

Alone.

Maybe it was deserted. Maybe they still waited for him.

Maybe they would kill him.

He would wait... for something, whatever might happen one day. Alone in the darkness of the basement that welcomed him home with the smell of burnt flesh.

Every memory from his and Louis' pasts had been erased from the desolated rooms, pools and channels that had been their home. Nothing had been left, except for a few, wooden splinters, shards of metal, and a few old photographs he had kept in a slim, watertight briefcase in the pocket of his jacket.

The idea of combining of combining two different creatures was older than any Greek myth. When a scientist one day had the idea to not only sew body parts together, but also to splice and rearrange the DNA of two species and implant it, the possibility to create a functioning, breathing chimera suddenly had been within human's reach.

When it had been Jean's turn, pages of the research data had already been crossed out and were replaced by new facts and theories. During the process of his transition, his genetic code had been changed in several steps. His own body had refused to accept the new parts at first. It had been expected to happen so everyone had been prepared to work on his body day and night. Along with his metabolism, his organs had been changed and threatened to fail several times. The blood in his body had had to be adjusted to the new requirements of his lungs and cells daily. Even after the process had been finished, it had taken for his bone marrow to create the necessary amount of blood on its own.

Each little step had been noted down. Success or failure – both leaded to new results, but when the prognosis had changed from 'expecting nothing but more data' to 'carefully optimistic' that he would be the first one to survive, the scientists were in a delighted mood for a few days.

For him, it meant that the pains from cuts and injections, the burn from his own blood fighting the new and the infected seams wasn't over. One day, his pulse would have been so weak that his lips and extremities already would be a dangerously dark color. Another day, he would have been shaken by a fever that threatened to affect his brain permanently. Scalpels had opened his wounds to drain atter or remove necrotic tissue. Needles were rammed into his flesh, containing beta-blockers when he was so hypertensive that his heart could burst any moment. Sometimes, they filled with adrenaline so his heart would beat at all.

His file was filled with long lists of medical and scientific terms about his transformation, reactions, changes and every type of medication he had received. Every new record about him proved old theories wrong, improved them or leaded to new ideas that filled other files.

What he remembered was the pain - how his own screams echoed in his ears until he was hoarse whenever his own blood poisoned him, the heat in his veins burnt him. And he remembered the ever present smell of open and drying wounds.

Jean flinched as he recalled those days. The few scientists still working here from that time sometimes talked about the excitement they had felt when he survived.

'Excitement' wasn't exactly the term he would choose to describe the state of his mind. His tongue slowly glided over the tips of his pointy, sharp teeth. Once he had learned how to handle his new body, he had hoped to forget about the first weeks, and the pain of the first days.

He should have guessed that such a hope was in vain. His teeth were strong, convenient and very dangerous. Over the years he had learned to accept and even like his new smile. This didn't change the fact that he still sometimes dreamed of that day back then when he had been awake enough to understand what his tongue was feeling. Nothing. No, not nothing – it had glided over small depressions in his gums. The flesh hadn't been healed at that point and his mouth with filled with the taste of old blood. Slowly, it had dawned on him why his whole face had hurt and had been swollen like every bone had been smashed.

Every tooth had been pulled out.

Only later he had really understood how fortunate his coma and fever had been. If he had been fully conscious shortly after the removal...

He didn't even want to imagine the pain. It had been bad enough, waking up in the middle of the night, realizing he had been turned into a toothless thing. In the morning they had explained to him that it had been for his own good. Soon he would grow more appropriate teeth anyway. They had been right of course. When the day came his new teeth broke through, it was another, new experience of pain for him. The pressure in his jaws and under the surface of his gums prevented him from sleeping for days and without the high dose of painkillers he would probably have gone crazy. A humiliating time, as he lay on his bed, curled up and feeling like a teething baby.

No, the first time in his new home was nothing he liked to remember.

The final result, however, was impressive. Also a sight he and everyone who might see him for the first time would have to get used to, true. In the course of time, Jean had gotten used to his body and to the fact that he wasn't perceived as a human beinganymore. Even if part of him - and certainly his consciousness - was still human, many of those surrounding him every day saw nothing more in him than an animal, nothing more than a lab rat.

By now, he had spent many years here, down in this laboratory. Decades, to be precise.

She had calmly explained to him, on one of the few rare days at the beginning when he was fully conscious, that he had been involved in an disastrous accident on the battlefield. An uncontrolled detonation had cost him both legs and when they tried to save his life they had to face unexpected complications. He had been more dead than alive and beyond help, unless...

So he, himself, had agreed to become a part of this experiment, a new field of research.

Or so he was told.

He didn't remember. Just as he didn't remember anything about a battlefield or the accident. He had to rely on the information they gave him; it was up to him what he chose to doubt and what to believe. Either way, it wouldn't change anything of what he was now.

So he was a Spy once, he would often muse. A spy with eight dark-blue tentacles. Longer and more powerful than any human leg could ever be. He could inflict death and destruction so easily, if he wanted to. Killing two or three humans at once wouldn't have be a problem, and he would still have his hands free. And then? What would come next?

Lazily, he swam in a large basin and waited. His tentacles glided peacefully through the water as they curled up and stretched again. The wet, endurable skin reflected the cold light whenever they broke through the surface.

He enjoyed the tranquility at this hour, when nobody would bother him with questions or tests. During the last ten or twenty years, his life had become more peaceful anyway. Once he had been the first success, but since then, not the last. Especially for new, younger scientists, it was important to see and understand the first surviving prototype of the project, but he wasn't the most interesting of his kin anymore. They had advanced immensely with their research, thanks to him. However, slowly his status from the exciting success was changing to a still fascinating, but nevertheless obsolete relict in the eyes of science.

He dived under, swam across the pool underwater and emerged again. Letting himself float on the water on his back, he stared at the ceiling and, as countless times before, pondered over his time here and his life before. After all these years, he still hadn't stopped wondering about who he used to be. His earliest memory was when he had woken up for the first time after he had become a part of the experiment, and how he had yelled and cried because of the pain.

What he didn't remember was his family.

That there had been people 'out there' who once had waited for his return.

An elderly, little mother he had written cheerful letters.

A fiancée who had kissed him good-bye when he had left for his last mission, after they had planned their wedding over the last days before his departure.

He also didn't know how his parents, close friends and the lovely woman he had left behind had gathered around his closed, empty coffin. It had been a peaceful, quiet funeral. The eulogy had moved everyone to tears while his family lamented in silence why, oh, why a young, formidable man had to die so cruelly that nothing had been left of his body.

Several years later, his mother and many people he had never met before silently cried around his father's coffin. Ten years later, an even smaller group assembled in the same chapel when his mother followed his father – and, how she firmly believed during her last hours, her son.

His fiancée had become the wife of another man and given birth to children who were old enough to have their own families. Today, she was the elderly little mother.

Lives and deaths he didn't know anything about, neither the past nor present. He assumed that, if he suddenly remembered, he would have to mourn loved ones passed. If he met one of those still alive, he probably wouldn't recognize them, after all these years. And them, if they saw him? They would scream and run away, horrified for the rest of their life.

The scientists had always dodged his questions about his past, and after years, he had given up. Maybe, he had to admit, it was for the best. Whoever they were who he once knew and who once knew him, it was easier if he didn't remember and if they never learned what had happened to him. Maybe he was lying to himself. A comforting lie whenever he felt an vague pain in his heart when he thought of his unknown past self.

Even if there still were people who remembered him, even if he had been lied to about his consent for the project or about the accident that had brought him here – a different truth wouldn't change what he was now. There was no place for him in the world outside anymore. It didn't need much imagination on his part to know that.

He hadn't, however, had the experience of how humans would react to him yet. His home was here. The laboratory was the only place he could be safe. It was a constant reminder of the moment when he woke up after he had been 'changed', yes, but it was also a shelter for him and the other creatures who had become his kind.

The only normal humans they ever met were the scientists. Calm, serious and intelligent men and women. Although a higher education and years of hard work in the field of gene splicing didn't automatically mean they treated the living results of their projects with respect.

Jean and his kind weren't regarded as humans and in most cases, a cold, indifferent attitude towards them was the lesser evil. They were nothing but objects, toys and tools. Many of those men who created Jean and the others like him were the same men who now regarded him with contempt, especially when he moved and acted among them as if he were still one of them.

While some of the scientists simply ignored him when they didn't need him for more studies, others openly showed that a mere lab rat wasn't worth any friendliness and compassion.

If those were the reactions his new body caused in humans who knew exactly what had made him what he was – more so, who were even responsible for it, his effect on humans who were ignorant of his existence would probably be devastating.

So he accepted the situation as given and dealt with it in his own way. After all, he had gotten used to the tentacles that had replaced his legs – a few impolite imbeciles without manners who he could easily rip into pieces were hardly worth of his time and anger.

He leaned with his back against the pool edge and looked at the ceiling. The lights of the neon tubes were too bright and burnt in his eyes. This room was as dull and plain as the research areas. Jean missed a bit of flair and splendor around him. Although he didn't know how he used to live before, he was certain that his old self didn't live in a basement with an always wet floor and barren walls.

He had the large basin all to himself this afternoon.

Without even one of the others who usually shared the pool with him, it was very quiet. Privacy for them was rare and he usually welcomed any chance to have some time for himself. But as the years went by, dwelling alone in a place free of any inspiration had lost its appeal.

He was bored.

Somebody was rushing through the corridor outside this room – he could hear voices and footsteps, but they were too far away for him to tell who it was and what excited them so much. A door was opened and closed, and again, the only noise came from his tentacles when they slowly moved through the water, causing some gentle splashes.

Another hour had passed and Louis hadn't come.

Still staring at the lamps with squinted eyes, Jean smiled. Then he sighed.

Louis was different. Unlike Jean, Louis had been spared the surgery that had turned him into a tentacle-creature. The other tenta was genuine.

Changing a normal human's body and DNA had only been the first step of the project. Once the scientists had finally completed Jean's alteration, they knew what had to be done to make more like him. The procedure had been repeated. Finally, they had reached the first stage of the program.

The next step – natural reproduction.

Jean snorted. They could name it as they wanted, but 'natural' seemed like a bad joke to him. Or rather, a mockery of nature.

Whatever he thought about it didn't change the fact that the next step was breeding.

Again, it didn't work at the first time and 'casualties' – another often used term Jean hated – were unavoidable and calculated.

In the end, after several 'casualties', this part of the project eventually resulted in a success – four tentas had been born, one of them Louis, with two brothers and a sister.

So at first, his new kind was created, only to be bred, to the amusement, no, of course 'in the name of science'. The aversion Jean had felt at first when he heard of the plans had vanished when he saw the babies for the first time. They had been so small. Small, breathing and alive. Helpless little things.

Those helpless little things were almost 35 years old today.

Not that anyone who only looked at their human halves would have believed that. Jean wasn't sure if it was intended or a side-effect, but not only their cell structure had been changed. He didn't age like a human anymore. Those born here over 30 years ago grew up fast at first like any human child, but after a few years, the process slowed down considerably. Jean himself still looked like his 30 years old self when he was – he had to think about it for a moment – in fact 66.

Now, Louis was older than Jean had been when he his new life had begun, while just from his looks, nobody would assume he was older than 17 or 18.

'Time sure flies down here,' he mused as he thought of the years now lying behind him.

Yet, time seemed to stand still in their isolated world. Reluctantly, he had to admit that the once drastic changes had lost their novelty and excitement. Neither experiments nor scientists were what really agitated him these days. Instead, boredom had become one of the most irritating bothers. Unthinkable how he should find any enjoyment if he were alone.

“Jean!”

Abruptly pulled out of his thoughts, Jean turned around to look at the sudden intruder. The face of the female scientist glowed happily while she walked towards him.

A nostalgic smile hushed over the Tentaspy's face.

A part of his mind was still lingering in the past, and at once he remembered his surprise when he saw her for the first time. In fact, she was one of the first people he had seen when he had woken up. Too occupied with his own drastic changes, he hadn't spent much time thinking about her at that time.

Her voice had calmed him down when the fever had shaken him. She was always the first one by his bedside when the pain was so bad that he wanted someone to end his misery.

Only when he had heard for the first time how the young woman had been called 'doctor', was he taken by surprise. He had never questioned her position until then, a woman in this environment had to be a nurse. True, he had been forced to face far more crucial revelations.

However, a woman as a doctor, even more so – as a scientist in a top secret project that revolutionized anything humanity had ever thought possible, was surprisingly difficult for him to accept at first. Often enough he had unintentionally treated her like a nurse. He hadn't wanted to deny her proper respect - the idea to see a woman in a profession like this was simply too new to him. Even if he hadn't remembered anything of his own life, the rules of the society he had grown up with had still been present in his mind. By those rules, women had been teachers, nurses or wives. Everything else had simply been a male domain.

She had never been offended by his insolent behavior. Unimpressed by his skepticism, she had done her job with the same elaborateness as her male colleagues. Soon, Jean had forgotten about his prejudices and regarded her with the respect she deserved; the question of male or female had ceased to matter.

He didn't know how things had developed outside this small world, if a female doctor or scientist was still a sensation or not. Down here, it was as normal as humans whose lower half had been replaced by tentacles.

His thoughts focused on the woman who stood in front of him today.

Her lab-coat was as white and dainty as it had been the first day he had seen her and she still wore her long hair in a tight bun. The only difference was that the once dark brown hair had turned gray. Her youth had passed but even though she was far over 60, her beauty hadn't faded, only changed. She was still the same charming and interesting lady. Whenever her features were free from the seriousness that came with her work and she was at ease, even age couldn't take away the loveliness and the still youthful sparkle in her eyes.

Right now, her eyes showed just that cheerful sparkle and Jean could tell at once that she was in a delighted mood. He smiled back at her, revealing his teeth without shyness. This woman had known him for almost 40 years and had been by his side from the first day. There had been times he had been more afraid of his own smile than she was.

“Madmoiselle?” he greeted her politely. As he was still leaning against the edge of the pool, his bow was only implied. She laughed heartily.

“Jean Renouard – even after all these years you are still the same accomplished charmer!”

He enjoyed the cheerful sound of her words. It was a rare to hear genuine and carefree laughter down here. Everyone was always serious and focused.

Victoria Fletcher. Among the normal humans, the only one he called a friend. Her skills and knowledge still impressed him, but everyone of the scientists was well educated. What he really cherished was her kindness. When one of the others had only given him another injection and left without another word, she would have sat down and talked to him. Even when he was too weak and sick to answer she had been there. Her gentle voice had distracted him more than one night from his pains and fears. When everybody else ignored his questions, she would answer them. Well, more than once she had refrained from giving him straight answers, but at least she would listen to him and try to calm his worries.

Victoria was the only one who treated him and the others of his kind with the same respect he had for her. Most of her co-workers preferred to ignore that in their minds, they were no different from any other human being. Only Victoria didn't think like them. For her, Jean was as much of a co-worker as those of her profession.

She had asked for his assistance after Louis and his siblings had been born and not died within the first hours of their life. Together with her, he had cared for them, as overwhelmed with relief and awe when they survived the first night.

Her now wrinkled cheeks were covered with the same excited blush they had been that night and as so often lately, he felt sad when he looked at her. The day when she had to retire was coming closer. Bitterly, he remembered how she had laughed at him when he wanted to urge her to do with her cells whatever they had done to him to slow down aging. Despite all the decades of research they still hadn't found the answer to what had influenced the aging processes exactly.

As she seemed to grow older every day in front of his eyes, he became more aware than ever how different he now was from the humans. She would be the first of many to follow who would live a complete life and leave him behind.

He had never openly told anyone how relieved he had been when he realized that the children stopped aging at the normal pace as well. They would still be around even when everyone he had known was replaced by strangers.

This, however, didn't comfort him much when he thought of the inevitable loss of his one true friend among the humans. Yes, she had grown old and sometimes, her once so skillful hands trembled. It was hard, but he had to accept the fact that she wouldn't be around him for very much longer anymore. Inwardly, he sighed – he was lucky that he had never fallen for her. He didn't even want to imagine how it would have felt to be forced to let a beloved one grow old by his side and die while he stayed the same as he had been when they had first met.

Fortunately, he wasn't the only one of his kind, and even more fortunate, it hadn't been difficult at all to see one of them grow up into someone very special to him.

“Are you expecting someone?” the elderly woman asked when the smile on his face became softer. She sat down at the table close to the basin and stretched her legs. Lately, her joints troubled her more than usual.

“I hoped to see Louis today,” he admitted frankly. He climbed out of the water and sat down on the floor, the tentacles still in the water. Straightening his back and hoping that this more dignified and proud pose would belie the dark thoughts he had only a moment ago. When he saw the change in her face, his shoulders dropped.

“Oh, Louis... I'm afraid he won't be able to join us anytime soon.”

Her frown and the tone of her voice already answered his next question, but he asked anyway.

“Is it that bad today?” He sighed when she nodded. So it was one of those days.

“I'm sorry, Jean,” she apologized, but he shook his head.

“There is no need to apologize, my dear Victoria. This is not you fault.”

Despite his disappointment and worry, he wasn't surprised. This wasn't the first time he and Victoria had a conversation like this.

The first, four surviving babies hadn't been strong. All of them were albinos and every one had been born with an incurable defect. The first one was only fifteen when he died. His aliment had been an immunodeficiency. He had lacked the physical strength the former humans and later children had and through his short life, he had been more sick than healthy.

Louis suffered from a cardiac insufficiency.

Otherwise, his body had what it took to develop strong muscles and lungs. He would have been a perfect creation for the scientists, but his weak heart didn't give him the endurance to develop his strength. He was too quickly exhausted by too much physical strain. Even too much excitement was dangerous for him.

Throughout the younger tenta's childhood Jean had been worried, and it hadn't become easier when his feelings for him had changed. It still enraged him when he thought about the way the sick tentas were treated by the humans. Some of them seemed to take it as a personal affront that the state of the young ones didn't match their calculations. Now they had to take care of them and keep them alive if they didn't want more loss of data, a circumstance they accepted as punishment for their failure.

The arrogance and coldheartedness towards the babies, and later young men and woman, was unbearable to watch. Jean knew, however, that there was nothing he could do to change that. The few times he tried to intervene, he was bluntly told that the alternative would be to let them die and simply start over. After all, they had the data they needed to avoid making the same mistakes.

That was what his kind and his lover were to them – mistakes. Because they were sick. When the first one had died, his body had disappeared behind the same door as the former humans who hadn't survived the surgery. Where the remains of his body had gone after they had drained him of the last bit of information they could find, Jean didn't want to think about. He knew that there hadn't been a funeral.

Victoria was the only one who cared. She cried when the youth she had raised died as if he had been one of her own. To her, they weren't only numbers. To her co-workers, Jean was number 03 – short for 'test subject number 03'. The young man whose health worried him so much right now was Subject 10, the son of Subject 4. Only Victoria acknowledged that they were more than expensive, time-consuming but replaceable tools. She called them by their names.

“I am glad to have you, my dear.” He looked up at her with a gentle smile. “Without you, who would care for him? I mean, really care?”

She didn't miss the hint of bitterness and knew at once where it came from. She, too, dreaded the day when she had not only to leave her work, but also her friends behind. But she was a practical soul and so she shoved the worries away until the day would come. Musing about it while she was still here wouldn't help anyone, and there was a lot more for her to do than wasting precious time on melancholic thoughts.

“Melissa doesn't feel very well today either,” she changed the subject. “Her own condition is steady though. They seem to feel when one of them suffers. A phenomenon often observed with multiples.”

“Yes, I think you are right.” Jean thought of the day Louis' brother had died. The three remaining siblings' conditions had worsened and for a few days, Jean and Victoria had feared they would lose them as well.

“Enough with the sad news!” Vigorously, she stood up and her wide smile returned. “I didn't come to you to dwell on depressing thoughts after all! Mr. Renouard: the babies hatched today!” she announced happily.

Jean's face brightened. Victoria never tried to hide her excitement – when she beamed at him like this, it meant that everything had went wonderfully.

“Really? Today? Was it already time?”

“We were surprised as well, but the little ones are perfectly healthy. They obviously couldn't await to add some color to our small, gray world.” The way she winked at him while she spoke she reminded him more of a proud grandmother than a results-oriented scientist. He loved her for that, but it also hinted again at her age.

“They are so beautiful! You have to come and look at them. So colorful and cute. See, one has already bitten me!” She laughed as she raised her hand. A big band-aid was wrapped around her index finger. “They are really energetic, all five of them. Really, such lovely little darlings.”

“Madmoiselle Fletcher, you are too careless!” he scolded her good-naturedly, but her excitement was contagiously. His dark mood had completely vanished.

“And while this is true, my dear, I was unable to resist. They are too adorable. For them, I'm ready to take the pain into account.”

“I cannot blame the little ones. You are a delicious breakfast, my dear Madmoiselle.”

“Oh my, look at you, making fun of an old spinster!” She still laughed and her cheeks blushed as they used to when she was young.

“Age doesn't define the making of a lovely lady, especially not in your case, my dear Victoria,” he replied with an affectionate smile and let himself glide back into the water. “If you do not mind I will stop by soon to greet the little wonders and convince myself of how lovely they are.” Both of them knew that he didn't doubt her words for any second.

“By all means. I'd be disappointed if you didn't.”

*

Victoria had left soon and Jean stared at the closed door a little while longer, with a smile on his face. A chat with his old friend had been just what he needed. She simply had a way to cheer those around her up and as usual, she hadn't failed to distract him from his gloomy thoughts.

Visiting the newborns was something he had been looking forward to, and to hear that they had already hatched and were fit and well was a pleasant surprise.

However, what she had told him about Louis worried him. He was always worried when the young man had one of his bad days. For a moment he considered paying him a visit first to see if he was all right, but suddenly, Victoria's frowning face appeared in his mind. More than once in the past she had shoved him out of the infirmary, rigorously scolding him that fussing and fawning on Louis would do more harm than good.

'Fussing and fawning! Pah! The insolence of it!' In spite of himself, he grinned. Of course he had protested against such a ridiculous assumption, but as usual, Victoria had been right. In his worry about his lover he tended to get carried away. It really didn't help Louis to get enough rest while treated properly when he, Jean, scurried around the doctors and had to be calmed down more than the patient.

He dived under and left the basin through one of the channels that connected this room with the others. Despite the rough treatment they often had to endure, they received the best medical care possible, Jean was aware of that. Louis was in good hands – the best possible - and if it had been really serious, Victoria would have told him. So he decided it was better for Louis' recovery and for his own mood to follow the elderly scientist to the nursery.

Within the laboratories, they could move around freely, except for a very few rooms. Considering what they were and that, in the opinion of most humans working here, Jean and the others were nothing more than test objects, they enjoyed much freedom.

They weren't confined, they didn't have to ask or to tell anybody were they wanted to go, as long as they kept to their schedules. Jean sometimes wondered if the scientists were aware of the strength of the healthy, fully grown tentas. Then again, he would have been astonished if they didn't. After all, what did they have to fear? Yes, Jean could kill them; yes, he could pay them back for every rude insult and the lack of respect. They wanted to see him and the others as animals? They would have brought it upon themselves.

But without those humans, they wouldn't have a home. Jean didn't remember much from living in the outside world. Those born here only knew about it from books and stories. For them, there was no other home, and even if they left and found another place to stay – who would care for the sick ones? Sometimes, Jean would be overfond of strangling some of the men and women, yet he had to be grateful that they cared for them; without them, Louis would have died a long time ago. The youth's survival was a close shave often enough as it was.

He snorted at his own thoughts – again, he was caught up in his worries. Lately, his mood too easily drifted into a depressive state, which was something that annoyed him. The life here wasn't too bad, and Louis would be fine, he would see him later. For now, the bunch of tots would have to cheer him up.

They did so the very second he came up to the surface again. He was greeted by a mix of adorable hisses and rude curses. The source of the unmannerly exclamations rushed past him while Jean climbed out of the water.

“Mais Monsieur, watch your language, s'il vous plaîtes! There are children present!” Jean chided with pretended consternation that earned him a despising glare from the young scientist. The man opened his mouth and was about to retort, but changed his mind. With a calmer expression, he searched the closest first aid box he could find and began to clean and wrap up his bleeding hand.

“They are over there, Subject 3,” he told Jean curtly and pointed with his hands at the large glass box at the other end of the room. Jean nodded politely. Of course they were over there. After all, it was he who had watched the first newborns in this very room a long time before this ignorant and smug oaf had been born.

“Fletcher, it's 3!” the scientist called for his co-worker in one of the side rooms. Jean chose to ignore this impudent upstart and focused his attention on the the glass box. His mocking grin changed into a soft smile.

Seemingly countless tentacles bustled skittishly around, tiny hands grabbed and pulled at them, not caring if they clawed their owns or those of their siblings. He chuckled at the little hisses and snarls – the instinctive aggressiveness was so adorably unimpressive and harmless.

Yes, they were really – cute!

Simple as it was, 'cute' described them perfectly.

The colors shone vibrantly in the cold, clinical light. Each of the five babies was of another color – yellow, bright red, blue, green and purple. Jean looked at the living rainbow with regret. In a few years, the colors would change, and they would either be of a brownish red or a grayish blue. Only the babies were this colorful, and nobody knew why. He couldn't think of any reason why nature would give those tiny creatures such a striking appearance when they were still weak and helpless.

However, they weren't actually a creation of nature in the first place. After all, they were nothing but mutants, the proof that humans could create whatever they wanted, if it was reasonable or not. Here, neither nature nor a God decided upon life or death. The beginning and the end of their existence lay in the hands of the scientists.

In a natural habitat, these darling little creatures wouldn't have a chance to survive – let alone the fact that they wouldn't have been born at all.

He smirked wryly when he remembered another conversation with Victoria from many years ago. The day when she had explained to him in detail about the changes of his body.

All of the changes.

“You didn't just tell me that I could become... pregnant?!”Even saying the word out loud in this context had been difficult, the whole idea had been too grotesque. Victoria had smiled at him, her voice half amused, half apologetic.

“Well, Mister Renouard, the distinction between male and female concerns basically the optical appearance of the human parts, not the reproductive organs. So, if the transformation of your body was a complete success, as we assume, theoretically...”

“Mon Dieu!” he had groaned before she had the chance to give him more detailed information. His dismay showed clearly in his short exclamation, and she had hurried to calm him down.

“Don't worry, my dear, we would never force you to.” Her amusement at his horrified face had been as obvious as his relief at her words.

Back then, it had already been past belief for him that a woman worked in a profession that usually belonged to men. And now a men should do the work of a woman and bear children?! Who had they thought he was?! Who had been crazy? Them? He, himself? The world in general?

Well, until today he had had a lot of time to re-evaluate many of his ideas. Men, woman – it didn't matter anymore when it came to skill, friendship or love. What hadn't changed was his determination not to become pregnant and lay eggs.

Nevertheless he loved watching the little ones. Compared to human infants they were a lot smaller. Physically, they were further developed, the human half looked already like a minimized version of a maybe five years old child. Their behavior, however, reminded him more of kittens or puppies.

They had noticed him and looked up curiously. He chuckled when the red one hissed at him, showing his tiny, pointy teeth. So cute.

They might not have been his own children, but it was impossible for him not to adore them. They were such helpless, innocent things, and even if they weren't his own, they were of his own kind.

Carefully, he let one of his tentacles slide into the terrarium and caressed their heads gently. At once they stopped hissing and snuggled against the dark blue limb. Like any baby – human or not – they sensed he meant well. A wicked pride filled him when he remembered that those little darlings had bitten that boorish dilettante.

“I wish they were always so tame,” a female voice laughed behind him. He didn't have to look up to see that Victoria had joined him. He had been so entranced by the newborns that he hadn't heard her coming closer despite the vigorous steps of her flat heels on the tiled floor.

“They only protect themselves. It will die away soon. See, with a little bit of sensitivity it already does!” he protested on behalf of the babies who peacefully huddled against the end his big tentacle. The green one already nodded off.

“Yes, when you come to cuddle. Try to feed five greedy, hungry mouths that don't care if they gobble down food or a finger, and we'll talk again. You are doing it again, Jean!” Laughingly, she raised her right hand with the bandaged finger.

A splashing sound coming from the other end of the room caught their attention. They stopped their friendly banter and turned around. Jean smiled.

Sydney with his persistent habit to smile at anything and everyone, O'Conner, the old boozer, Nicolai, the friendly cook and a former Heavy. It was impossible to imagine now, but Matthew used to be a soldier; Jo and even the zombie used to be involved in this trade.

Whatever Martin might have done in the past was something Tyler didn't want to know, but he was sure that the Medic, too, had had at some points other priorities than healing and saving lives. Jean and Lukas, the Spies. The two convicted serial killers – the twins. However, convicted or not, except Tobias, every one of them had been a murderer. Sometimes they still were. 'Are you coming for us? Did we do that to you?' Tyler felt sick. This could be the solution, but what would it change if he told the others? Maybe they would laugh at him anyway, and if not, he had no idea how to stop vengeful souls of the past. “There's nothing laughable about ghosts, lad.” O'Conner's voice startled him. The Scout wasn't aware that he had said his last thoughts loud enough for the others to hear. “We don't forget the dead, and the dead don't forget us,” the cook continued. “Me thought the same, but I tell ye the truth – somehow, me feels this is not the answer. The ghosts of our past usually haunt our heads, not our home.” “Could you please stop talking about dead souls coming for us? This shit is creepy enough without ghost stories,” Jo interrupted them. Until Tyler had begun to mumble in the darkness she hadn't noticed that she had moved away from the others. It was difficult to keep up with them when her feet hurt more with every step and Toby wasn't becoming any lighter.

She worried about her boy, without being able to see it wasn't easy to tell how scared he was. The child still clung tightly to her and if O'Conner had been right before when he said that Toby was brave and not easily scared, she wouldn't be surprised if this changed after this night.

I hope bringing him with me was right.' On the other hand, if he was still alone in his room she would have gone crazy with worry. Nobody could tell where they would be safe now. Outside the building, in their rooms, maybe even caught in their dreams, confronted with their fears, but unable to see and hear what was happening in the real world. “Ghosts or not, let's deal with earthly problems first,” Sydney barged in. The hint of sadness and resignation in her brother's voice puzzled Jo at first, but the reason dawned to her when he spoke on. “Lukas, do you have your gun with you? Loaded? Give it to me, please.” Despite the howls echoing threw the hall and the corridors, she clearly heard how the gun's owner was switched. And how Sydney unlocked it. “You'd hate to do that, right?” she asked gently.

Like most of her team-mates, she would prefer the twins to be as far away from this place as possible, and if that meant six feet under, too bad. She also knew that Sydney, for some mysterious reason, thought different. Although nobody would probably ever understand why – her brother had never given those crazy men up. Not yet. “Yes. Let's go.” With that, the discussion was over. The fatality in his usually buoyant voice was hurtful. She considered saying something about the respawn system, that they didn't know for sure if it was a complete blackout, but decided against it. Sydney wasn't stupid. The other end of the hallway couldn't be that far away anymore. They regrouped, trying to stay behind Sydney. If he really had to fire his weapon because of something that lay ahead, it was wise to keep out of the way, especially in the darkness. A sickening, metallic smell began to fill their noses. As they sniffed the stale air, Tyler and Jo both decided that their injuries were to blame. “SYDNEY!” The flash of the gun when a bullet was fired illuminated the Sniper's face in a fraction of a second. A thud from a body falling to the floor in front of them followed, as well as a loud, startled curse. Everyone looked around hectically. It was too dark to see anything moving. The distant choir of wails and the gasps of their own breath too loud. Jo thought she heard footsteps and slithering sounds over a slick ground, but it could have been her imagination. “Sydney, are you okay?” Lukas' highly alerted voice mixed with the chaos around them. Tyler shivered; the suffocating feeling he had in the elevator shaft was back. Any moment he expected invisible claws to touch him. His sense of orientation began to spin in his head and he couldn't tell anymore in which direction they were heading or how far away from the walls they were. But together with the others, he leaped forwards, at the position where he assumed the fallen Sniper to be. “Syd, what happened? Were you attacked?” “Are ye hit?” Everyone talked at once and reached for him, trying to pull him up or just making sure he was still alive. “Be careful!” was the first thing he could finally say. The next moment both Tyler and O'Conner slipped. The Sniper broke their fall. “What the fuck his happening!?” Agitated, close to hysterical, Jo was forced to listen to the sounds in front of her. With the child in her arms, she didn't dare to walk closer. She had heard how they fell and cursed, but was unable to make out the reason. She wanted to go over to them, to help and find out what was going on. But she was scared, for herself and her boy. Whatever had caused this chaos might still be close. She couldn't run away, she wasn't sure in which direction she would have to choose. Again, the voices came closer. This time, she was sure to hear the echo of footsteps and the weird, slithering noise. Nothing close by, but she couldn't tell from where these sounds came. “What... who are you? What do you want?” Nobody answered her. She hadn't really expected it though. Judging from the cursing voices in front of her, the three men, probably with Lukas help, were slowly standing up again. “He's alright, darling, don't worry, everything will be fine,” she whispered, comforting Toby and herself equally. “Where is the fucking gun?”

“Right here, dear, didn't let go of it,” Sydney replied to the Scout. “Be careful everyone,” he repeated. “The floor is wet and slippery.” “Aye, guess yer right, laddie.” O'Conner's pained flinch was audible, obviously he had hurt himself when he fell. As he and the others didn't complain and assured Lukas and each other several times they were alright, Jo's worries eased a bit away. She took a step forward. Sydney was right. The floor was wet and her feet now made splashy sounds.

“A burst pipe?” she wondered. “Maybe,” the Sniper replied. “We'll hopefully find out soon. I really doubt the twins are behind this.” His sister smiled in spite of herself – he didn't even try to ban his relief from his last remark. “Alright, ladies, everybody up again? Nobody seriously hurt?” His cheerful manner had returned and Jo would have bet he grinned widely when everyone stated they were fine.

“Very good. Okay, which direction do we have to go? Lukas?” “I'm sorry... boss... well, it's just... after this commotion, and everybody falling...” “Great, now it's our fault he has no idea where to go. Ouch, what was that for?” Tyler rubbed his arm where a fist had hit him.

“Stop picking on others. Can you tell right from left right now?” Jo growled at him, glad her punch didn't hit the wrong person or miss. “We all get you're pissed, boy, but you aren't helping, so be a good kid for once and shut up!” “They are like that all night, aye?” O'Connor lowered his voice so only Sydney and Lukas would hear him, but with Tyler already retorting it wouldn't have been necessary – the Scout and Jo were already wrapped up in their little fight.

“Yeah. Both wrought up to the limit. Time we get going,” the Sniper sighed. He wiped his hands on his shirt. His mind too occupied with the question what to do next, he hardly noticed that something was wrong with the water. Although his hands got dry soon, the fabric of the shirt stuck to his skin. The smell that surrounded him was neither from clean water nor from something he would expect from a wastewater pipe. “AH!” A bright beam of light blinded their eyes. Before Sydney knew it, he had two men clinging to his upper arms – Tyler and Lukas. “God... what is it now...” Sydney heard from behind him when Jo stepped behind his back. The light was reflected by the surfaces of large, dark puddles that covered the wooden floor. “Yo, dudes, how's it goin'?” a familiar, phlegmatic voice called. Slowly, their eyes got used to the light, but even without seeing him, they knew who it was. “Dammit, Matthew! Honey, you don't believe how happy I am to see you!” Sydney laughed at the grinning Soldier who happily waved the flashlight in his hand.

*

“Man, don't know, am I still dreaming? Is this a dream, you all here, at night?”

By the time the Soldier had joined them they had gotten used to the light, which was all easier when the source wasn't pointed at their eyes anymore. “No, my dear, this is real. How did you sleep?” Sydney inquired, not wasting anytime. “Any nightmares?” The Soldier shrugged and scratched his helmet. Tyler suspected him to even sleep with that thing on his head, and seeing how Matthew was wearing loose pajamas and worn out slippers, like he had just jumped out of his bed, the Scout took this as a proof. “Yeah, no, nah, no idea, dude. Seriously.” Matthew shoved his helmet up and pushed strands of his messy hair out of his face to gain a better view. “Guess I, uh, ate something wrong today. Weird, yeah, really weird. Thought I couldn't move a bone, you know.” “Ate. Sure,” Tyler grumbled, but shut up when Jo pinched his arm. Feeling the pain in his arm, he realized he was still clinging to Sydney. Quickly, he released the Sniper's arm and took a step to the side. “I see.” Sydney nodded at the Soldier's reply, letting the “ate”-matter slide. “Why did you wake up?” Matthew frowned as he tried to remember. It took him a while to find an answer and when he finally spoke again, the others around Sydney were already impatiently waiting. “Can't say for sure. Heard a noise. Yeah. A bullet. Next thing I know I was outta my room, with the lamp in my hand, finding you here.” Tyler swallowed another snide remark, feeling sure that their Soldier was probably too high to remember if he had jogged around the building a few times before finding his way here. He was, however, glad to finally be able to see something. Besides, he didn't want any more bruises from Jo's punches or pinches. “Yo, Syd. Did the bullet hit you?” Puzzled about Matthew's question, everyone looked at the Sniper. Looking down on his own clothes, Sydney's back stiffened. “Fuck, Sonny! And Ty, you too! How... wait!” Jo's eyes wandered from Sydney to Tyler and finally to the floor. They were standing in a large puddle of blood.

Each of the wide, wet stains was blood. It was too much to be from one of them, not with everyone still alive and standing. “Well...” Sydney breathed out slowly, “this is not from me, or anyone else, that's for sure.” Despite the only source of light being the Soldier's lamp, his team-mates saw the Sniper's face changed. With the worried frown and the pale skin he was so unlike himself that he seemed to be nothing but a ghost of his usual self. Tyler's first thought was the twins. Then, his face became ashen. “What if it's Jean?” “Don't be stupid!” Jo snapped harshly.

She, too, had a similar fear, especially when she thought of the weird sounds from before. Those weren't only human footsteps, and now she remembered where she had heard them before. Tentacles sliding over the ground. But that was impossible. Had to be!

“Ty, Jean's unconscious, and even if Martin had woken him up, he would have called us. He certainly wouldn't have let him wander around in the darkness!” She hoped she was right. She hoped that the Tentaspy was okay, and the twins still locked up. She hoped that all of this was nothing but another nightmare, and sooner or later she had to wake up. In a day or two she would laugh about it and after two more days she would probably have forgotten everything. It was, however, difficult to believe in a dream when her feet hurt and she almost slipped on the floor, like Sydney had done before, when she turned around and hastened towards the door. The others followed her. Feet and shoes made splashy sounds on the ground. Sprays of blood left tiny stains on their pants and – in Tyler's case – bare legs.

*

“Matthew, please light this way.” At Sydney's request, the Soldier directed the beam of the flashlight along the wall to their left once they finally arrived at the medical tract. Like the hall, the floor was covered with wet spots of already clotting blood. By now, their feet were completely covered with the red liquid, and the smell was impossible to ignore.

“Try not to think of it, me boy.” Sympathetically, O'Conner patted on Tyler's back when the Scout began to gag. “Easier said than done,” Tyler replied and coughed into the sleeve of his shirt, but he tried to distract himself by recalling his plans for the week. It even worked for a few seconds, when a small voice in his head wondered if they even had the chance to see the next morning. Sydney stepped towards the steel door and rattled on the handle. It didn't budge. “Thank God!” Not only Jo let out a long sigh of relief. Having Matthew come closer with the light, Sydney checked the door – no signs that anybody had meddled with the last, mechanical lock recently. The control panel, however, was dark.

“Let's move away quickly before they realize that only two doors with two locks hold them back!” Whispering, Sydney shoved the men standing behind him away from the door. “If they hear that Jean isn't a threat as well this could turn out ugly.” The wails echoing through the corridors, hall and rooms were still there, sometimes so close they thought whoever it was, was standing right beside them. They came and moved away, but never stopped, and no matter how unreal and impossible it felt – the little group was already getting used to them. The chills and shivers down their spines didn't stop, but they slowly accepted the situation as given, which was all easier with at least some light and the comforting thought that the two insane killers were no threat. Sydney knocked firmly at the door to the sickbay, and Martin opened. His face was looking more tired than when they met him earlier. In some spots, his black lab-coat appeared to be darker and the Sniper raised a questioning eyebrow. “It comes from the floor,” the Medic explained shortly, interpreting Sniper's expression correctly. “Most of it is covered with blood. Be careful, the tiles are slippery.” “Hear, hear.” O'Conner rubbed his hip. “Thanks for the warning.” Silently, they followed the Medic into the sickbay. As he had said, the usually white tiles were hardly visible. In combination with the medical tools and the smell of blood and sanitizer, Tyler felt almost more uncomfortable than before. An eerie light illuminated the room. Several candles in different sizes were burning. Abstract shadows danced grotesquely on the walls and over shelves, bottles and books. “So, Martin, how is he?” Sydney was the first one who dared to walk over to the bed with the still motionless Tentaspy. Without a word, everybody else joined him. 'Like a funeral... standing around the fuckin' coffin.'

Tyler frowned. The expression on Jean's face hadn't changed at all since the last time he had seen him. Actually, it hadn't changed since he had found him lying on the floor upstairs. His gaze was fixed on the Spy's chest. Slowly, it heaved up and down. The only visible sign that Jean was alive and not dead. The Medic shrugged. “As you can see, he is still paralyzed. I checked his blood a few minutes before the blackout. All I could find was an increased release of adrenaline. Since then... without the monitors it is hard to tell, but after it went dark, his vital signs had become weaker.” “Is he dying?” Tyler asked in alarm. “As far as I can tell, no.” Martin remained calm and matter-of-factually.

The lack of compassion outraged the Scout. This man didn't care for anyone or anything, it probably wouldn't even matter it the Spy died. Oh, he would probably love it, finally a good excuse to cut him open and gut him!

'He's not a monster.'

He remembered Sydney's words, but found it difficult to believe them. All he could do was hoping the Sniper was right and that the Medic really was better than the impression Tyler had of him. If he only didn't feel so helpless... He abruptly turned his head around when he heard his name. “Martin, be a dear and check on Jo's and Tyler's feet. I'm afraid they got some nasty cuts from all the glass. With this here,” Sydney nodded at the stained floor, “I worry it might be harmful.” The Medic adjusted his glasses and frowned. “Sit down,” he instructed the female Sniper.

Reluctantly, Jo sat Toby down on one of the empty beds and told him to be a good boy before she took a seat on the Medic's desk. Holding her feet up, she grinned wryly.

“Hope that won't tickle,” she joked half-halfheartedly. “My dear, I can assure you it won't, judging from the look of this.” Martin pulled a chair closer, sat down and began to examine one of the feet. “Matthew, come closer with the lamp. Sydney, to your left you'll find a bottle of water, give it to me.” Tyler watched how the Medic cleaned the red sole of Jo's left foot and gulped. Once the blood was washed away, he saw shards and splinters of glass sticking out. There seemed to be only a few at the first glance, but he could clearly see more cuts and reflections. Several pieces had probably simply broken off and had pressed themselves into the flesh. Jo's flinches when the Medic swiftly removed some of the easier to reach shards weren't encouraging. The Scout wished he had been first. “Sure ye can get them all out with that light?” “As sure as you have drunk too much again today,” the Medic replied stiffly, as if O'Conner's question was completely ridiculous. “Be assured that I can see very well. Furthermore I performed surgery under similar, if not worse conditions. This is harmless and hardly a problem.” Martin proceeded with his work; he had to cut the skin of the sole open several times to get hold of the pieces. Every once in a while he gave Sydney a sign to wash the blood away. This time, Jo's blood. Tyler looked away and examined the candle stitting close to him with great interest. The bright, orange flame hurt his eyes, but was still less disturbing than watching either Jo's pale face or her bleeding feet. “What do we do next?” He moved one of his fingers through the flame, quick enough not to be burnt. The warmth coming from it felt good. “Huddling up here until the problem solves itself? Or until the twins break out and they eat us alive? Unless the ghosts are faster?” Matthew gave a snorting laugh but stopped when the Medic glared at him and continued to hold the light steady.

“Ty, chill! Ghosts are intelligent creatures, if you don't show them your fear, they'll sniff and go away.” Sydney stifled a chuckle. O'Conner was less tactful and burst into laughter. “Matt, ya idiot, ya talking about dogs!” Tyler rolled his eyes. “Oh. Yeah. Right! I always mix those up.” The 'incense', that the Soldier claimed the smell in his room to be, and sleep seemed to be a dangerous mixture for this man's brain. The Scout had a few other things to call it in mind, but Sydney had already taken over. “I'm still can't believe that ghosts exist and haunt our lovely home. However, Ty is right, we can't stay here and do nothing.” The Sniper paused and nodded thoughtfully. “So... what... do we do now, Sydney?” Lukas had remained silent since they had left the hall and Tyler had almost forgotten about him being here at all.

'Dammit, ya might as well be a ghost yourself, man,' Tyler cursed inwardly, refusing to admit to himself that he had almost given a jump when the withdrawn man began to talk all of a sudden. Sydney waited a moment before he answered. Finally, he lifted his head and smiled at his assistant. “I have no idea, darling.” Not only the Scout groaned. However, none of them had any suggestions either, so they didn't say anything. “What about the power supply?” Jo said after a while, pressing the words through her clenched teeth. “If it failed because of the short circuit, can't we fix it? At least the other stuff except the broken lamps should work again, right? Like, the machines in here, and the security devices.” The others grumbled in agreement. “Worth a try, my dear, if we only have to replace a few fuses. Lukas, O'Conner, you come with me to the power station. I don't want to split up, but I guess we cannot avoid it. Well, until now those things didn't attack.” He put on a more cheerful face. “So why should they change that right now? Martin, do you mind if we borrow some candles?” With a supply of candles, a box of matches and – to Jo's dismay – the lighter she had taken from Jean, the three men walked off. With a lopsided grin, Tyler watched how they closed the door tightly behind them tightly; there was no reason for that, the wails and cries had never left them and had been ever present since they started. A door didn't keep them out, and whatever might have caused them, Tyler doubted that doors or walls would stop it.

Yet it already felt safer, even if he couldn't tell what was safe about being in a sickbay of a creepy Medic with a stoned Soldier, an injured Sniper and an unconscious Tentaspy, while his feet hurt and stale blood covered the floor. The only reason he didn't have to run anywhere for a while was that he had no idea where to run. “It is astounding under which circumstances we can function if we have to.”

“Huh?” Tyler turned away from the door and looked at the back of the Medic's head. Martin didn't seem to talk to someone in particular. “A candle, a knife and some water are enough. With all the new equipment the result wouldn't have been very much different from what I'm doing now. Try not to step on the floor until somebody gives you shoes,” he advised Jo while he bandaged her one foot. Before she answered he had already begun to focus on the second. “Did you know that we have one of the most modernly equipped sickbays in the country? Oh, of course not all that is possible, but those devices we have are very fine pieces of technology indeed, ja...” Tyler looked at Jean and he wondered what all those fine pieces of technology were worth when they couldn't do something simple like to wake somebody up from a nightmare. “Yet, I wish we had the possibilities or those who had made him,” Martin rambled on. “It's a shame that there are hardly any documents about the experiment are left. Even if they discontinued their research, the files would have been a most interesting read for all scientists to come. Ach ja, I was really born too late.” The Scout shifted uncomfortably in his place. He often forgot that there was an explanation and long story behind Jean's appearance, but if he was honest to himself – he didn't want to think about it more than necessary. “Oh, I'm sure, if you were born earlier, you'd have gladly taken part in creating freaky creatures, right?” Tyler scoffed. 'Freaky and perverted,' his mind added. Either the Medic didn't notice the spiteful tone of the Scout's voice or he chose to ignore it. “But of course. All the possibilities, the experiments, the failures, the small and big successes! The dream of any scientist.” “Too bad you are not a scientist, but just a creepy quack,” Tyler grumbled. “You judge too quickly, Scout. Your naivety is refreshing but you have to learn that what you see is just the tip of the iceberg.” “Thank you, I already know that,” Tyler snapped back. Martin's voice remained calm and aloof, which annoyed the Scout more than a fight would have.

'As insult-resistant as the stupid hippie over there. Can't await for you to finally wake up, Squid.' He poked the Spy's arm. 'Trust me, I'm gonna make ya suffer for all the shit I have had to deal with tonight because of your stupid coma.' Ranting at Jean in silence without him reacting wasn't really satisfying, but better than nothing. Tyler shoved the thought that, if he hadn't gotten up tonight to meet the Spy, he would now be in his room, alone, maybe even caught in his sleep as well, aside. “Martin, do you know more about those experiments?” Jo asked. It was still painful every time the Medic plucked a piece of glass from her foot or cut her to do so, but it became easier to endure. “Jean doesn't talk much about it.” “If he doesn't I shouldn't, either. To tell you the truth, I don't know much; what I know is very interesting. Did you know that... let’s say I’ve heard rumors that this very place was once involved?” He shrugged.

“Wouldn’t it be really fascinating, to work in a building with such a history? However, if somebody could tell you about it, it's him.” He pointed at the sleeping Tentaspy.

“Maybe he's more willing to answer your questions.” The Medic sounded offended and Tyler could easily imagine how rigidly Jean had made himself clear when he choked off the curious doctor's inquires. He grinned. The squid wasn't always useless. Then he frowned again. He, too, didn't know much - about Jean's, or anyone's past here. Or about the base itself. Usually he didn't care much. The present was annoying as it was without knowing more about everything and everybody. However, he still had the nagging suspicion that maybe somewhere in the past lay the key to the horrors they had faced to night.

'Or maybe I just watched too many cheesy horror movies.'

Whatever the case, they had better find out soon. This was not a movie; there was no guarantee that everything would be over just because they survived until tomorrow. There also was no guarantee that, even if everything was fine the next morning, that it all wouldn't return at night. He shuddered at the thought. Maybe even going away wouldn't help, maybe those ghosts would follow and find him, no matter where he went.

'But how... how can we do something about this when we don't know what it is and why it happens?!' “WHERE'S TOBY?” Jo's yell let him forget about his heavy thoughts. Quickly, the Scout looked around.

“Fuck.”

The child was gone.

Matthew was already searching the room and under the beds with the flashlight. Tyler doubted that the boy would play hide and seek with them now, and if he had fallen asleep in a corner, Jo's tirade of curses and worried calls would have woken anyone up. 'Unless...'

Once more, he looked at the Tentaspy. No. He doubted that, after all these hours, the boy would be caught in a nightmare, unable to wake up. Until now, there had only been two of them, Jean and Gabe, who were lost, and those guys were special cases when when they were away.

Not lost. Asleep, paralyzed, stubbornly ignoring the outside world, but NOT lost!' he scolded himself. “Jo, stay where you are, your feet...” “Fuck you, Martin! I won't sit here and play with my hair while he wanders alone through the darkness! Poor baby, he must be scared!” Tyler almost laughed. The thing that really scared the little, curious runt had not been invented yet. Toby was probably having the time of his life, exploring a building that had been turned into a haunted house. Matthew almost stumbled over his own feet at the sudden hitch when the female Sniper dragged him with her. “You! Light!” “Johanne, I really have to tell you that...” “Piss me off now, Martin, and I don't give a fuck if the respawn system is out of order!” The Medic rose his hands in defense and backed off taking a seat on the desk, the same spot where Jo had sat before. “It's just a shame. The bandage looked so nice and clean. Oh well.” He shrugged, pulled a clean tissue out of his pocket and began to clean the instruments he had used to remove the glass shards. “Sorry man,” Tyler grinned. “You heard the lady.” “Scout, what's with your feet? It's still bright enough for me to treat your wounds.” Quickly, he grabbed one of the candles, shielded the flame with his hand from the draft, and hurried after Jo. “No way, man, can't leave Matthew alone with the furious mother of the year. Later!” He slammed the door shut. “Well, so it's only me and you again, Jean. Too bad, if I knew more about you it might have been easier to do something.” He continued wiping the small knife, letting the dim, warm light reflect on the blade to make sure it was clean. Meanwhile he continued talking to the Tentaspy, who he felt sure couldn't hear him anyway.

*

“TOBY!” “Did he go right or left?” Tyler asked once he had caught up with Jo and Matthew. “How should I know?” Frantically, the Sniper turned her head. “I didn't hear the door, so he probably slipped out with Syd and the others.” “So he's probably with them?” Tyler offered as an explanation. “If he is and they didn't tell me I'm gonna bite their heads off! Inconsiderate bastards!” she swore and called for her son again. She could hear footsteps in the distance, but the other sound was there, too. And of course the constant choir of screams.

“SHUT UP, goddammit!” Irritated, she yelled into the darkness, also she doubted she would hear anything if the voices had become silent. She was sure that there weren't any noised made by Toby among them. “Calm down, dear Jo.” With his common placidity, Matthew put an arm around the Sniper and gave her a hug. “He is all right. The little tyke was just bored, I'm sure he's happily playing somewhere. Too bad he doesn't have a little, happy friend, then we'd know where to find him,” he hummed. “Don't be silly, Matt, other kids, pah. This is hardly the place for children.. NEVERMIND that!” She shoved the Soldier away and sighed. “But thanks, I know you mean well.” “And I know that I would have earned myself a kick or a punch if I was in his place,” Tyler grumbled and took a step back when Jo raised a fist. “Alright, alright! Okay, do we run after the others now to see if he's with them or do we go to Jean's quarter?” “I have no fucking idea...” Jo bit on her lip and was already about to head into the direction where Sydney and the others should be now. Suddenly, she turned around. “But if he's at Jean's place... fuck, it's dark there, and the water basin..” “Dammit!” Tyler understood. Either way, the wrong direction would cost them time, but if they searched somewhere else while the child played close to the pool... No, he didn't want to think about that. Quickly, they turned right and followed the corridor leading to the Tentaspy's home. “TOBY!” The sound of the cries became fainter when they arrived. They didn't leave for other rooms to haunt, they only seemed weaker, softer. Yet, they seemed as much in pain as those from before. Tyler was reminded of the whimpering sound of a dying dog, or maybe sick children. He couldn't say that it was comforting or better than the wails of bigger, grown creatures at all. Only more pitiful. “Toby,” Jo called for another time, this time, the anxiousness had almost vanished from her voice. In the middle of the room sat the young boy. His mask was illuminated by the faint light of a little flame, coming from a lighter. Even with his face completely hidden Tyler could tell that the child wasn't worried or scared at all; Toby was the most relaxed person he had seen tonight. Jo hurried over to him and flung her arms around her son.

“Baby, didn't I tell you not to run away? Imagine what could have happened to you! Please, never do something like this again, okay? It's dangerous to walk away when things like this happen.” She grabbed him by his waist and picked him up. The boy struggled against her grip and tried to articulate himself with his hands. “Toby, baby, slowly. What's this? Oh no! Not THAT old thing again!” A quick rush of anger came over her when she recognized the lighter in his hand. “I swear to God, I'm FED UP with fucking lighters tonight!” She took it out of her son's hand and fiercely, she threw it against the nearby wall. It broke into several pieces at once, and before the remains touched the ground, the fire started. “NO!”

Matthew and Tyler ran towards Jo and Tobias, trying to shield both of them with their bodies and drag them away. It was too late – a wall of flames surrounded them. Thick, choking smoke filled their lungs and the heat engulfed them. It was already too hot to see or move. Endless, tortured screams flooded the room, crying for help. Among them, there were faint yelps of pain. Gunshots pierced through the air - both close and far away in the distance. Then it was over. The screams died away within seconds and the silence that followed hurt their ears as much as the noise had before. With the sounds, the fire was gone, too, not even leaving the hint of smoke or heat. Slowly, Tyler opened his eyes and lifted his head. No flames, no fire. He lent Jo a hand and pulled her up while Matthew swung the lamp around. A few steps away, on the wet floor, the Scout saw the broken pieces of the lighter. “He came to pick up his treasure,” Jo explained, her voice low and exhausted. Tyler nodded, although he wasn't sure what she was talking about. “He said he was told it belonged to a nice person, and he had hoped to meet her, too. I don't really understand what it means. And I'm not sure I want to...” Matthew laughed and plucked the boy from her arms and placed him on his shoulders. “Mothers never understand, right, Toby? Tell me more about it later, I promise you it will be our secret!” 'Just the influence a kid needs.' Tyler shook his head. Whatever had been here, it was gone, along with the lighter. The idea forming in his head at Toby's story didn't comfort him very much. He walked over to the broken item and picked one of the larger pieces up. The candle he had brought along got extinguished when he had dropped it after the fire broke out.

'Rather the ghost of a fire...'

He returned to the others and inspected it in the shine of the flashlight. It looked old-fashioned and rusted - he was surprised that Toby had been able to light something that old at all. On the other hand, who knew if the little flame earlier was real. Two hardly readable letters were engraved in the small piece of metal. V.F. 'Did you know that there are rumors that this very place was once involved?'

'He said he was told it belonged to a nice person...' 'The ghosts of our past usually haunt our heads.' “What if... ghosts can't escape their homes... and we cannot escape them if they haunt our heads?” he mumbled. “What are you talking about, Ty?” Jo looked back over her shoulder as she already followed Matthew out of the room. Quickly, Tyler closed his hand around the small plate.

“Nothing. Wait for me!” He rushed after them. A buzzing sound greeted them when they arrived at the sickbay. The lamps were of course still out – it would take most of the next day to replace every light-bulb in the building. The monitors, however, were working again. From one close to the Tentaspy came a regular, beeping sound. The Spy himself groaned. “Jean!” all three of them shouted and Martin turned around. “You are coming just in time. He started to wake up once those nerve-wrecking sounds stopped. He's not fully conscious yet, so please control yourself.” At his last words, he raised his eyebrows, looking at Tyler. The Scout blushed. “Like I would lose control over a freakin', snoring squid. Seriously.” “I am glad to see you again, too, my precious.” Slowly, Jean lifted his head. His smile was wryly and his face still pale. “So it's really over. Marvelous!” The door opened and Sydney, Lukas and O'Conner entered. The Sniper grinned happily at them.

“Aye, me thought we were well done for good with that fire startin'. But once it was gone, it was easy to restart the generator. Right, lad?” The cook gave Lukas a hearty slap on his back, almost causing the Spy to fall over. “Uh, yes, yes, it works... And it is quiet again.” “Well, not here,” the Medic snorted and shoved Sydney and O'Conner away from Jean. “Hush, leave him alone, he is still my patient until I say otherwise. Go and get some sleep. Tyler, you stay! I still have to look after your feet.” “Like we would sleep now,” Jo snorted. Martin obviously had forgotten about her second foot, and she was sure it wouldn't hurt if she reminded him a bit later. After a cigarette. Or two. “Sonny, let's go to the kitchen, I want coffee.” “Sure, sure, darling, although I'm more in the mood of the drink O'Conner hid under the table earlier,” the Sniper snickered, giving the sheepishly grinning cook a nudge. “Aye, got ye message. Off to the kitchen, I fix ye a drink and a snack. Ye comin', too, Matt and Lukas?” “Good idea, my friend.” Sydney nodded approvingly. “Maybe we can easier understand what was happening when we calm down a bit. And find an explanation that we could give the cleaning ladies when they have to remove the mess.” Like Jo before, Tyler had sat down on the Medic's desk and let his legs dangle. His eyes widened when he looked at his feet and the floor. “Guys, there might be less to explain than we thought.”

Following his example, they looked to the ground. The tiles were white and clean. Only a few red footprints, made by Tyler and Jo, had remained. The large puddles and stains had disappeared. Even their clothes were clean. So were his own legs, as Tyler noticed, except for the oil stains and now purple bruises from his climb up of the hoist chain. They stared for a moment in uncomfortable silence. Only slowly their minds began to grasped what they had really experienced tonight, and nobody could tell for sure if they would ever find a reasonable explanation. “Come, let's go. Jean, I will come and talk to you later, I hope you are all right, darling?” “Do not worry, just a little headache.” Lazily, the Tentaspy waved at Sydney, gesturing him to go and leave him alone. “Good. Oh, Martin, how about the twins? Can we check to see if Gabriel has woken up, too?” Sydney was already headed towards the monitor, but the Medic, too, stopped him with a wave of his hand. “Ja, they are fine. As a matter of fact, he had woken up shortly before the blackout. The lights burst just when I had put out the monitor to grant them a little, uh, privacy.” “Privacy?” Tyler snorted. “My, aren't they privileged. Wonder what bullshit they could dream about anyway. That one of their victims died before they could eat them alive?” “Tyler...” Sydney smiled weakly at him while the Medic ignored the Scout's rant. “Well, let's say that his brother had finally coaxed him out of his state, and I thought it wouldn't hurt to leave them to themselves after that. If you will excuse me for a moment, I want to see after William. I doubt that a creature who lives a nightmare everyday was really affected, but I want to be sure. Tyler, stay where you are! And YOU! Jo! You come back at once after you have satisfied your addictions, understood?” With that, the Medic rushed past the others and left for the Zombie's room. “Dammit.”

Sydney laughed at his sister's curse. “Did you really think you could escape him, my dear?” Laughing and chuckling, the Snipers along with Lukas, O'Conner and Matthew, who still carried Toby on his shoulders, left. Tyler looked after them. Then he opened his fist and stared at the piece of the broken lighter. “What do you have there, lapin? Come over here.” Jean grinned at him. A single tentacle slyly moved towards the Scout and wrapped carefully around one of the young man's ankles. Tyler didn't react. “I've been thinking...” he began slowly. “What is it?” The Scout shrugged and tossed the fragment towards the Spy. Jean's reflexes were still a bit slow, but he managed to catch it before it fell to the floor. “Everyone was in the same state as you, except Toby and...” “Little Toby is still a child. Children dream differently.” Tyler ignored the remark. “...and Lukas, who simply didn't go to bed,” the Scout went on. “You know, Martin said something interesting. Mike coaxed Gabe out of his dreams. Syd was woken up by his sister. Jo's first thought after waking up was her son. I had thought of... my family.” Finally, he lifted his head and looked directly at the Spy's calm face. “I wonder... what were reasons for the others? However, I'm sure there had been reasons. But...” “You wonder why you couldn't wake me up?” “I'd never wonder anything stupid like that!” Tyler flared up at once. “I just wanted to ask you what your dream was about, that's all.” Stubbornly, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Thoughtfully, the Tentaspy looked at the broken lighter. “It's a long story. Too long when a Medic might return any moment. Many innocent creatures once had died in this place, a long time ago. Please be satisfied with that for now. I'm sorry I didn't hear you call me.” Tyler watched Jean's calm, sad face. Of course he wasn't satisfied with a vague answer like that. It didn't take a genius to see that the long story of this place was closely connected with the Tentaspy, and probably with the events of tonight. But sooner or later, he would receive his answers, if Jean wanted to offer them or not. “Was V.F. one of those innocent creatures?” “Maybe, mon petit, maybe. I don't know.”

“It's not funny at all!” he called from above when the siblings giggled. Even Lukas had to stifle chuckle. “Fuck you all! Why am I even doing this?” “Because you are one of the good guys, honey. Now be careful with the wiring up there!” Sydney warned him. “Whatever. Can't see any light anywhere, guess it's a blackout.” the Scout's voice echoed from the elevator shaft. Jo frowned when she saw her brother flinching. “Syd?” “Let's just hope it's not the whole building... the west wing...” Although the Sniper whispered, Tyler could hear him. He shuddered. Like everyone working here he knew that not only the first floor and the basement had their own wiring. The basement was divided into the east and west wing. So even when something happened elsewhere in their base, the chances that the sickbay was still running were high. But not only the Medic's devices depended on the west wing's power supply. “Great, the last thing I need are those insane bastards waiting outside this cage...” He tried to look around, but his eyes didn't want to get used to the darkness. “Jo? Give me the lighter, okay? It's pitch black up here!” He knelt next to the opening and reached down. Jo tossed the lighter up to him, and he caught it, almost burning his fingers.

'Guess fingers of smokers are made of leather instead of skin,' he thought to himself, but didn't say anything. Despite the size of the elevator, shaft around him felt too narrow, and with the faint light it didn't get any better. Shadows rushed over the walls – disfigured, obscure animals hunting each other. Any moment they would notice him and stretch their claws out to drag him into their world.

Devour him.

“Don't be silly, idiot!” Scolding himself had an odd, comforting effect on him. Carefully, his fingers already hurting from keeping the lighter burning, he felt along the walls. Nothing. At least not what he was searching for. He knelt down and tried again. Finally, the fingertips of his free hand ran over a narrow gap in the center of one of the walls. Frustrated, he cursed his find and slowly turned around, fearing he would fall backwards through the hatch if he didn't pay attention. “Guys, we are caught between the floors!” he shouted at the darkness below him, cringing when his voice echoed between the walls around him. “Even if we open the door, we wouldn't be able to walk through it standing at full height!” From below, he heard curses coming from both Snipers. “Ty, can you see the emergency exit?” Sydney called up to him. “One should be right next to the door of the first floor, the second above it. Think you can reach it?” With squinted eyes, Tyler looked upwards, holding the lighter up. The flame already was becoming weaker. It was running out of gas and he feared it would die any moment. He thought he saw a small hatch somewhere above him, but couldn't tell for sure. He looked around quickly, trying to memorize his surroundings as best as he could. Then he bent down again and threw the lighter at where he assumed Sydney or Jo to be. “Catch this. I'll climb one of the hoist chains, crawl out of this mess and get Riley!” “Riley is away tonight, visiting his in-laws with his wife! Get O'Conner!” Sydney advised and from next to him, he heard Jo cursing at the mention of the cook's name.

Although nobody could see it, he nodded and felt for one of the chains. He began to climb very carefully and slowly at first while cursing Jean and his stupid love for stupid skirts. The metal felt cold and hard against his bare legs. His hands had troubles holding onto the chain – it was slippery with oil, and a few times he feared he would simply fall down.

After a minute, he became more secure. He got a better hold when his fingers clung between the links and he hoped he wouldn't miss his footing. If he fell down now, he would definitely break a finger or two. Either way, even when things kept going smoothly, he would end up with oil stains on his skin and clothes and several bruises on his calves and inner thighs. What would Jean say the next time he saw the Spy? 'To hell with ya, Squid, it's all your fault anyway!' Being angry at the Tentaspy felt so familiar it was relieving, even when he had to force himself to ignore the nagging fear inside of him. 'Halfway up!' At least his memory told him that, he wasn't too certain to be honest; it was too easy to lose his orientation.

Tyler stopped and looked up, then down. Suddenly, he felt lost.

He couldn't see the end of the shaft, both direction lay in darkness. For all he knew, he might as well be close to the ceiling or still close to the bottom, only a few inches above the roof of the cabin. His hands hurt from clinging forcefully to the chain and his left calf hurt from a sudden cramp. The metal links dug into his flesh in the same spots and despite the grease, his legs began to feel sore just from the pressure. He felt dizzy. If he fell now, where would he land? How deep would he fall? He didn't even know anymore – was he really climbing upwards? Or downwards, headlong? “Stop it, Ty!” he hissed through his clenched teeth. “Just climb forwards! It's only between two floors, dammit!” The chain began to shake a little the next time he pulled himself a few inches upwards. He stopped again, and listened. For a moment he thought he had heard something. With a shrug he continued. “TY!” Someone from below shouted and he almost lost his grip. “Goddammit, what...” He fell silent. The chain shook again and this time, there definitely was a noise. He looked down. “Oh fuck...”

Freezing on the spot, he stared at the flickering light below him. It was too bright to come from the lighter. '

But this means...!' It came closer. The chain in his hands suddenly went upwards. He yelled from the pain when his fingers were yanked up and squashed between the wall and the hoist chain. He raised his head. Above, he could see a faint light. The emergency-exit! He was so close. The cabin moved upward as well. The Scout would be dragged against the ceiling of the shaft any minute, without a way to escape the following elevator. Frantically, he tried to free his twisted fingers. “STOP THE ELEVATOR! HIT STOP! SYD, JO! LUKAS! JEAN!” he screamed. When nobody answered him, he feared it was over. He pulled his hands free, but still clung to the chain. If he fell down, he would break several bones. Then again, he would break as many once he was smashed between the ceiling and the elevator. 'Idiot, why did you call for Jean? He can't hear you, and now you die as a fool.' He closed his eyes and waited for the impact that would kill him. A deafening screak filled the shaft and roared in his head. For a second, the Scout feared his eardrums would simply burst. The sudden absence of noise that followed was almost as painful. When nothing happened, he slowly opened his eyes. The chain and the elevator had stopped moving. 'God... thank ya... really...' Panting and not sure if he wanted to cry or to laugh, he rested his forehead against the wall. The smooth, cold steel felt sobering and he randomly noticed the sweat running down his temples. His fingers hurt, so did his legs and the joints of his shoulders. But he was alive, and from below, he could hear the worried voices of Sydney and the others calling for him. “Just give me a second, will ya?” he whispered into the darkness.

*

Tyler slid rather than climbed down the chain, and hurried back through the hatch into the cabin.

Now, with the lights back on, the shine coming from below through the opening was enough to illuminate the elevator shaft. The Scout scowled at himself. He hadn't even been far up and the way to the emergency exit had already been close.

Either his outfit was to blame as it wasn't really meant for climbing oily chains in the darkness, or the oily chain itself. Or maybe just his fear that, for some reasons, he might have been caught midway in a bottomless pit. He was, however, really relieved when Lukas and Sydney helped him down, back to a more or less solid ground. All of them held their breath for a few very long seconds when the buttons of the control panel blinked in a random order. Finally, they stopped. “No, Syd, who knows what you'll start next time you fiddle with those.”

Vigorously, Jo shoved the other Sniper out of her way and away from the controls. After another short moment of tensed silence, the elevator started to move and opened its door only a few seconds later, after it had safely arrived at its destination. “Quick, get him outta here,” Sydney hurried them along. Now, with all the trouble of being stuck in the elevator and the sudden blackout behind them, the rest was ridiculously easy. As before, Tyler and Jo moved under the Tentaspy's shoulders while Lukas and Sydney lifted his midriff. Careful not to step on the tentacles or otherwise hurt the long, extended limbs, they dragged the Spy down the corridor, past the tailor shop, the workshop and the shooting stand. “FUCK YA ALL! HATE YA DAMNED MOTHERFUCKERS! GONNA RIP OUT YA THROATS AND STRANGLE...” Startled by the shouts and the array of curses and threats that followed, they almost dropped the Spy. “What the...?” Tyler gasped, then his eyes followed the bewildered gaze of the others. The steel door to their left was still closed. “That's Mike...” Lukas whispered almost inaudible behind Tyler. The Scout nodded. “Yeah, fortunately still locked up...” He only hoped that the doors would withstand the raging twins. It was surprising they could hear Mike to easily through the steel, but this only proved, in Tyler's eyes, how powerful the rage of those insane men was. Judging from the rattling noise of the iron bars that kept the twins away from the door, they weren't too impressed by their prison.

'Sooner or later... I fear they'll...' He refused to finish that thought. If those killers ever break out, he was hopefully far away. As everybody else should be in that case. Glancing at Jean's face, the Scout sighed. One barrier of defense was already down, and Tyler was surprised how uneasy he felt already. 'Don't get any ideas, Squid, it's not because I feel safe with you, it's just that you are a little bit more intelligent than a fuckin' door.' “YOU'LL BE SORRY FOR THAT! FOR THIS AND...” Everyone of them flinched as the last words were drowned by an almost explosive sound when something – or rather someone – heavily crashed against the grille door. Their senses alerted and the corridor lying in silence, they continued to listen. The angry shouts stopped and Tyler thought he heard a lower voice talking desperately to someone else. He shook his head. Probably his imagination. “Was um alles... what are YOU doing here at this hour?” Everyone turned their heads away from the twins' prison and stared at the figure before them. The dark hair was as disheveled as the black uniform. Dark circles under the eyes made them look unusually small.

'Everything about this bastard is dark...' Tyler mused. Like the rest of his team-mates, he rather avoided longer encounters with the man in front of them.

'Weird's obviously a precondition for working here, but this guy's seriously overqualified.' Along with a pair of insane, bloodthirsty twins, a child in a fireproof suit, a squid-man-creature with a thing for young men in dresses, a Sniper who was more of a diva than his boisterous sister would ever be... 'Dammit, and the list goes on...' But now, he smiled. It was difficult enough to bring Jean here, and Tyler was sure he had never been so glad before to see Martin, their Medic. “Don't tell me you and the cook had another drinking contest tonight? If he has a hangover, carry him to his room and leave me alone.” Skeptically, the Medic eyed the group standing in front of them. Lukas and Sydney, fully dressed but exhausted. The Scout's clothes messy and stained, the boy himself barefooted, as was the female Sniper. That reminded him of something. “Johanne, wasn't your check-up due two weeks ago?” “Maybe, but could you worry about Jean first? He's getting' heavy...” With a frown, she shifted the weight on her shoulders. “And no, he wasn't drinking, something's really wrong with him.” Impatiently, the Medic turned around and made a gesture telling them to follow. Tensing their muscles and straightening their backs one more time, they carried the Spy into the sickbay. “He could at least lend a hand...” “Shh, Ty, don't provoke him...” Sydney whispered from behind. 'So even Mr. Sunshine has an uneasy feeling about this guy,' the Scout thought with satisfaction, but preferred to say nothing more. Together, while watched by the Medic, they hauled Jean onto the long examination table. The construction was already custom built, but still not long enough for the Tentaspy – the ends of the long tentacles simply slid down from the table and hung down by the sides. Martin shoved Tyler and Jo, who where still standing close to the Spy's head, aside and began to examine the man's staring eyes. “Hm, nothing. No reaction to light... yes... I see...” He felt for the pulse at the throat and at the wrist, then checked the eyes again. “I wonder... so maybe... interessant, höchst interessant... but if not... hm...” “If not WHAT?” Tyler interrupted the randomly mumbling German who almost jumped at the sudden sound. “Oh, yes, you are here...” “Of course, we brought him here...” Growling, the Scout crossed his arms in front of his chest. The Medic walked over to him and caught him by the wrist. “What are you...? I didn't say anything!” Tyler tried to pull away, but the Medic's grip was firm. “Hm, what happened to your hand? Both hands?” He began to feel along the Scout's fingers, not all too gently pressing against the already purple joints. As abruptly as he had taken hold of them, he let go before Tyler bothered to answer. “Nothing broken, bruises, will hurt a while. I'll give you some ointment later, to cool down the swelling.” Martin was already standing in front of his paralyzed patient again, gazing at him with a curious expression. “It's not that swollen...” Tyler rubbed his aching knuckles and tried to stuff his hands into his pockets, when he remembered his skirt didn't have any. “Not yet, Scout, not yet... Anyway!” All of a sudden, he turned away from Jean and headed to his desk, almost knocking over Lukas who had decided to watch the whole scene from a distance. “Come, look at this. Yes, this is really very interesting... Have a look!” The others gathered behind him and stared at one of the monitors standing next to the Medic's desk. “The twins?” Sydney asked. Martin passed him a look clearly doubting if the Sniper really asked such an unnecessary question. Who else should those two young men, who looked almost identical, be? “Here.” Not bothering with an answer, the Medic adjusted one of the buttons and the camera zoomed in. “Look at the sleeping twin, Gabriel. Ignore Mike,” he added when the older twin turned around at the sound of the camera's changed angle. His angry, loathing glare sent a shiver down all their spines. All, except the Medic, who's index finger pointed at the sleeping man. “Well, this is...” Sydney bent forward to gain a better view, but he already saw what the doctor was talking about. “Fuck it, like Jean!” Tyler exclaimed, and indeed – what he saw looked very familiar. Just like Jean, Gabriel was lying on his back and stared at the ceiling. The eyes wide open. Only the horrified and pained expression was unlike Jean's more sad, wistful face.

In turns, Mike sat on his brother's bed, yelled at him, stood up, sat down again, shook him. Jo and Tyler winced when Mike suddenly slapped his twin. Blood ran out of the young man's nose. Only to lower his voice right afterwards; Mike almost softly whispered to Gabe, but neither his brother nor the silent watchers could understand him. “He's been doing that for a while now. It's not the first time Gabriel has had a nightmare, but this time...” Martin explained and shrugged. Sydney raised his eyebrows. “He does? Why didn't I know that? And what's different this time?” the Sniper inquired when the Medic didn't spoke on. “Well, as you can see, he's as paralyzed as your Spy over there. Usually, he moves, thrashes around, groans, screams... and eventually wakes up. I had already wondered he had not reacted to Michael at all.” Sydney shook his head. “Please be a dear and give me a detailed report about those nightmares later, Martin. Anyway, do you have any idea what is going on? With both Gabe and Jean?” The Medic lowered the volume of the monitor when Mike started to yell at the to him invisible watchers again. Indifferently, he walked over to one of his cabinets. “No, I'm sorry, gentlemen.” He selected a syringe and was already busy filling it with a clear liquid from a small bottle. “I want to try something. As you are here anyway and Jean cannot help, please follow me and assist.” Glancing one last time at the unconscious Tentaspy, Tyler, along with the others, hurried after him. The Scout almost bumped into Jo's back when she abruptly stopped once they had arrived in the corridor. Holding his breath, Tyler saw how the Medic entered a short numeral code in the panel next to the heavy door that separated them from the twins. “Sydney, Lukas, come with me,” the Medic commanded shortly and the two men slowly followed “What is this about, Martin?” the Sniper asked, sounding as tensed as Tyler felt. Judging from the faces of Jo and Lukas, the Scout assumed that the others didn't feel better about this situation. “Well, I want to give Gabriel an injection of course,” the Medic explained, genuinely astonished by the question. “It's just a test. And I rather test it on him first than...” “MARTIN! WATCH OUT!” Jo, Lukas and Tyler yelled at once, but too late. “SHIT DRIPPIN' ASSHOLE! YOU WON'T TOUCH HIM!” The Medic had come too close to the iron bars while he spoke. Swift like an animal, Mike had leaped to the door and seized the Medic by the collar of his lab coat. Repeatedly, the raging twin smashed the Medic's head against the bars. Blood was already dripping from the man's nose and from a wound on his forehead. “YOU! What did ya motherfuckin' bastard give him? Think I'm gonna let ya mess with him? FUCK YOU!”

Mike spat and hissed at his victim's face while Sydney and Tyler tried to loosen the twin's grip. The Sniper spoke in a low, soothing voice with Mike, apparently hoping he could calm the raging twin down.

'Yeah, awesome plan, like he's some kid or dog...' Tyler thought grimly, and finally bit forcefully into Mike's wrist. He never knew if it was due to his teeth, their efforts to drag the Medic away or because of Sydney's words, but in the end, they finally freed Martin from Mike's grip. Hurriedly, they pushed him out of the small room and locked the door. Behind them, they heard how Mike cursed, kicked against the door and, in the end, returned to his brother's bed. Back in his office, Martin quickly checked the bridge of his nose and the laceration on his forehead in a mirror. “I'll admit, I was a bit careless,” he stated while wiping the blood from his face with a clean tissue. “This is good, nothing broken. Please, there is no need to look at me like that.” Frowning, he glared at his team-mates' reproachful expressions. “Martin, honey, what in God's name was your plan?” Sydney demanded to know, now for the second time this night showing his calm, but stricter, authoritarian personality. “Why, it's very simple.” Unimpressed by his boss' attitude, Martin shrugged. “I wanted to inject a high dose of adrenaline. As we need Jean as a measurement of security I thought it too risky to test it on him. However, Jean cannot restrain the twins right now, so I wanted you to hold Michael back while I took care of Gabriel. But oh well, I doubt we should try again anytime soon...” “Not any time soon? Martin, no offense, but your plan wasn't... well...” Jo searched for a more diplomatic expression to voice her doubts about the Medic's idea. Tyler, however, didn't care much about diplomacy. “That plan was crap. Bullshit. A pile of rotten bullshit. Of a dead, rotting bull. Of a really...”

Sydney put a hand on the Scout's shoulder and smiled. “It's okay dear, we got the idea. Martin, next time, please explain your radical plans before executing them. That way, we can stop you while you are still out of the twins' reach. Anyway!” Ignoring the Medic's scowl, the Sniper clapped his hands. “We need to find out what's wrong with Jean and Gabe now. I wonder if there is a connection...” Approvingly, the Medic nodded. “I think there is. But unfortunately, I haven't found it yet,” he quickly added when he saw a shadow of hope rushing over the faces of his nightly visitors. “I want to run a few tests on Jean, and also on Zombie. This will take about an hour, so if you would kindly let me work... Go to the common room, I'll call you when I'm done.” Without waiting for an answer, the Medic began to search his drawer for the Spy's medical files and studied them. Already guessing that it wouldn't make much sense to discuss with the doctor now – but also sure that he wouldn't try anything crazy like before – they retreated. Tyler hesitated once he had reached the door. “What the hell has the Zombie to do with that?” he asked, still not able to shed the feeling of uneasiness. For a second he wondered if he should ask if the Medic needed help. “Oh, that. I think he is in a similar state as Jean and Gabriel. It is not easy to tell for sure though. He is always in, well, a state. Don't worry, Scout, I won't experiment on the Spy. Now, away with you! Please do not be in my way.”

*

Walking to their new destination was uneventful. Without a heavy load to carry and any stairs or elevator rides to endure it was almost disconcertingly easy. After everything that had happened tonight, all of them expected anything to be thrown into their way any moment. The common room was located in the same tract as their private rooms and they reached it quickly. The lights flickered a few times but there was no second blackout. Still, none of them could completely get rid of the feeling that it wasn't over yet. It certainly wasn't for the Tentaspy and the younger twin, and, maybe, the Zombie Scout. “Guys, I hate to ask you but...” Jo hesitated a moment and ran her fingers through her hair. “I want to check on Toby, would you mind coming along? Just waiting outside?” Lukas and Tyler nodded. “Honey, no need to ask,” Sydney reassured her and put his arm around her shoulders as they turned left, away from the common room and towards the corridor with Jo's and her son's quarters. “Actually,” the Sniper, almost grimly, continued, “even without you asking I would have insisted to come along. Nobody wanders off alone tonight! Understood, everyone?” Tyler and Jo grumbled in agreement, Lukas nodded again. The three men waited outside while Jo carefully opened the door to her boy's room and disappeared behind it. Sydney had asked her to hurry - if she wasn't back within five minutes, they would follow, even if they risked waking up or startling the boy in the middle of the night. The Sniper looked at his wrist only to realize that his watch was still lying on the nightstand beside his bed. “Lukas? Thanks, I really can always rely on you, can't I?” He smiled at him when the Spy quickly shoved up the sleeve of his sweater and showed his boss the face of his watch. Otherwise, the group waited in silence. Once in a while the already dimmed lights flickered with a buzzing sound above their heads. The Medic's area and the twins' prison were far away enough to not hear anything from whatever might be going on there right now. From Toby's room, they only heard Jo's low voice. Besides that, there was no sound or noise at all in the whole basement.

Yet, just standing here at this late hour felt depressing.

Tyler shivered and wished he could quickly slip away to change into a pair of pants and put on his running shoes – the normal ones, for men; but he didn't want to ask or have anyone come with him. He also didn't feel like walking into his room alone.

No matter how often he told himself he was stupid and reacting like a little girl, he couldn't help feeling like they weren't the only ones roaming the corridors tonight. “Five minutes up, let's go in,” Sydney said when Lukas nodded at him. The Sniper opened the door and all three of them shielded their eyes at the unexpected brightness. Every source of light in the room was switched on, including the ceiling lamp. In the middle of the room, Jo was kneeling in front of her son and closing the zipper of his suit. The young boy was rubbing the mask with his little, gloved fists, just where his eyes where hidden behind the rubber. It was obvious that he was still sleepy and not really aware of his surroundings yet. “Jo... is that really necessary?” her brother asked with a sigh. “Yes, it is, and don't try to argue with me, Sonny-boy!” she insisted and her stubborn, aggressive voice told Sydney he better didn't even try.

“Anyway, we're done. Common room or kitchen?” She lifted the boy up and carried him on her hip when they left. “I'd kill for some coffee now...” In the end, they decided to go to the common room as planned . Like the others, Jo would have to be satisfied with one of the bottles of water stored there. A quick, hot argument between the two Snipers was about to flare up, but both kept their tempers under control when Toby clung tightly to his mother as their voices rose. “Syd, I swear to you, if you start to bitch about smoking, too, I'll...” she hissed over her shoulder while she pushed the door open. “Aye, me friends, took ye long enough!” “YOU! Great, just the right person to brighten my day... night.. whatever,” the female Sniper sighed. The others simply walked past her, Sydney with a wide smile on his face. “O'Conner, my dear, what are you doing here at this hour?” Gratefully, the Sniper caught the bottle the one-eyed cook shoved vigorously across the large table. However, after a quick sip, he rose his eyebrows.

“This is only water!”

His skeptical remark was answered by a roaring laughter. “Naye, my olde friend, don't ye think the ol' O'Conner's always just drinking. At times like these even I prefer me senses to be sober and aware.”

He waved for the bottle and Sydney shoved it back to him once he had taken a seat. Lukas quickly chose a chair next to his boss and Tyler sat down beside the Spy.

Still grumbling, Jo let herself fall on the seat to the Sniper's right. At once, Toby tried to curl up on her lap, but he was already too tall for that. Sydney winked at the boy and moved his chair closer to his sister; immediately, the child stretched out, letting his legs rest on the male Sniper's lap, and his head on his mother's. “Toby, mein Kleiner, don't forget what we talked about.” Gently, Jo shook him by his shoulder. “Don't you want to show me what a big boy you already are?” “At this hour, Jo? What are you up to?” The concern in Sydney's face was impossible to miss. He knew that his sister was a good, caring mother, but sometimes, her ideas of raising children were a bit, well, unconventional.

“Nothing.” “Don't even try, I know that the more innocent you try to look the more is up. Spill it, Johanne!” “If he switched as quickly into this attitude when he's the boss as he does when he's in uncle-mood, things would run smoother I bet,” Tyler growled under his breath, watching the little scene. Lukas, not sure if the Snipers had heard the Scout looked nervously from Tyler to Sydney. As none of the siblings paid them any attention, the Spy relaxed. “Okay, okay, if you insist. All this shit tonight started with that dream, and three of our guys won't wake up anymore. So when I saw him sleeping so sound and peacefully he didn't even hear me and I had to shake him to wake up, I...” She frowned at her own words. “I told him to be a big boy and stay awake all night because I didn't want him to sleep... I even considered giving him coffee. Fuck, that sounds kinda wrong.” “Couldn't agree more, honey.” Sydney wanted to say more about it, but a look at his sister's face told him he should be careful with his opinion. “Ye know, the lass isn't wrong, Syd.” O'Conner had watched the conversation in silence until now, and the others had almost forgotten about him.

Now his deep, rumbling voice filled the room and as he spoke, his usual jovial mood has vanished and was replaced by a seriousness that added to the gloomy feeling in the dimmed room. Everyone, even Toby, looked at him and waited. After a few seconds, when his audience showed the first signs of impatience, the Scotsman smiled glumly. Finally, he began to talk. “In my home country, they tell tales of the Banshee. That old hag is a spirit of the death. She walks the earth and dreams at night and wails for the souls of the dead and dying. Beware if you do not hear the song of the Banshee! Those who cannot hear her call will be the one who follow. Aye...” He took a long gulp from the bottle. Long enough to make Sydney doubt if it really was water and if their cook had tricked him somehow. “Are ya tellin' us this place's haunted by a Benji...” “Banshee...” Lukas corrected Tyler and quickly looked down at the table when the Scout snorted. “Benji, Banjo, what has it to do with anything?”

Tyler felt his own temper rising. The ramblings of a probably still drunk old man didn't make sense at all, but the story also didn't help him to relax. “Nothing. Who said it does?” O'Conner stated matter-of-factually, and his listeners groaned. “Nah, dun't ye say nuthin', I was coming to that. Ye see,” he continued before Tyler or one of the others had a chance to interrupt him again, “something reminded me of the old tale. Something from a long time ago. When me was nothing but a shrimp like leetle Toby.”

He flashed a bright smile at the boy when Toby lifted his head curiously when his name was mentioned.

“Ye, me boy, me too was not born a cook or Demoman. Me father's friend, a Taffy, told me the story of the Gwarch. The ugliest old witch ye can imagine. Like the Banshee she searches the dreams of humans for dying souls. She'd knock at your window. Knock. Knock. Knock!” He tapped three times on the table. “And press her ugly face against the glass. He told me, if me don't answer, she thinks me is dead and take me with her. When I was asleep, he would go out and press his face against the window, and knock. I tell ye, even the strongest man would be scared when he thought the Gwarch was expecting him to answer her call.” As before, Sydney and the others waited for the former Demoman to continue while he emptied the rest of his bottle. 'Probably mistaking it for his damned booze,' Jo scowled in her thoughts. “So.. not that I want to sound impatient, my friend,” Sydney began after a while.

“But before Ty asks again – what has this to do with Jo and Toby? Are you telling us a ghost from Scotland is haunting his room?” Tyler gave a snort and O'Conner chuckled. Jo, however, didn't show any reaction. She waited a moment until she was sure that the Scout wouldn't start a quarrel. “Not our rooms. But your dream, right?” she finally asked softly and the Scotsman nodded.

“Aye,” he replied gravely. The little group remained silent after that answer. The following minute everyone stared at the table, thinking, careful to avoid the eyes of the others. Tyler was the first to break the silence. “So you, too?” His voice was unusually calm when he glanced at the two Snipers to his right. “What was it?” he added when they nodded. Jo shrugged. “Nothing I need to happen in real life.” She still hesitated. Being scared of something trivial like a spider seemed so ridiculous. “How about you?” she asked back. The Scout blushed.

“Nothing. I mean, it was nothing I want to happen either. Stuff about my family, my mother, you know.” Both Sydney and Jo raised their eyebrows. They felt sure it was only half of the truth, but it probably didn't matter. '

So he got up and hurried to meet Jean once he woke up from his nightmare. He told the truth earlier,' Jo concluded, but didn't say anything. If she didn't want to talk about details, she could hardly expect Tyler to either. Instead, she turned to her brother.

“Syd?” “Hm?” He seemed busy with focusing on Toby, who giggled when the Sniper tried to tickle him through his suit. Even when Sydney wasn't successful, his efforts alone amused the child.

“Don't 'hm' me!”

Impatiently, she pulled her son up so he sat on her lap only, out of Sydney's reach.

“I had a hard time waking you up, and you were just like Jean. For a moment I feared...”

She shivered when she thought of the sight of Sydney when he was as paralyzed as the Tentaspy. Or how she felt herself before she could finally escape the dream. “I had sweeter dreams before, that's correct, my dear,” he finally answered. He was still smiling, but she didn't miss the hint of sadness.

'Right. He, too, has things he doesn't want to talk about... Not even with me.' She frowned at the thought. Then she snorted, remembering past episodes of her life. She wasn't sure if she should feel fortunate that her anger was too strong to be terrified of her memories. Maybe a spider was the lesser evil.

'Who knows...?' “How about you, Lukas?” Sydney turned to his assistant. “Any nightmares?” The Sniper sighed with resignation when the Spy slowly shook his head. “No, well... I didn't dream... erm...” “Damn, and I thought...” Frustrated and violently enough to wake her son up, Jo kicked the table leg close to her. Despite his mother's plan, the child was already about to fall asleep again. “Yeah, me, too,” Sydney frowned. “It wouldn't have solved anything, but still...” “Weird coincidence if ya asked me,” Tyler doubted dryly. “And why this chicken of all people here is the only one without a nightmare doesn't make sense at all. Bet he has nightmares every night, just not when he's supposed to have them.” “Ty, be nice!” Sydney chuckled, wondering if he had enough money to retire if he was given a penny for every time he had said these words to Tyler since the Scout started working for the team. Not that he wanted to retire anytime soon even if he could. “Since when is saying the truth not being nice, eh?” Tyler retorted angrily, flying into a fury. “Fuck you and your 'be nice'! I have more for you, boss! He's useless, all our Spies are useless. The other Scouts are too crazy or too dead, so – useless. You Snipers, busy playing princess and house all day, and...” “Tyler, darling, I know you are upset and scared, but this won't help...” Sydney tried to calm the young man down. For a moment, both talked at once. Jo rolled her eyes. It wasn't the first time Tyler ranted about everyone and his job. This happened whenever he was enraged or overly worried.

Although she had to admit - she was equally worried. There had been too many coincidences and she had been sure that it had something to do with everyone being caught in dreams.

'And next? What if I had been right? What would it have changed? What would it have meant?' Maybe it was better this way. More graspable. Real. “Toby, Schätzchen, do they scare you?” she whispered when the voices of the two arguing men became louder. The boy shook his head. “Aye, the little tyke's brave, lass.” O'Conner smiled gently at her when she lifted her head. “Maybe the bravest. Have never seen him scared. Me thinks even if ye let him sleep, he won't be haunted.” Suddenly, she felt very tired. Jean, the two men quarreling next to her, the fear when she had seen Sydney caught in his nightmare, her worries about Toby, and herself. She just wanted to lie down in her bed and sleep. Even more so when her son made himself comfortable in her arms, his head nuzzled against her shoulder. “You think so? Does it even matter? Not all of us dreamed, I was wrong.” The cook gave a short laugh. From under the table, he picked up another bottle and shoved it to the female Sniper.

“Here, the stuff for me friends. Good me just gave them water, eh?” He winked at her. Careful not to move the child more than necessary, she reached for the bottle and took a hesitant sip. She frowned at O'Conner. This tasted very familiar. “You...! This started the whole mess!”

The cook grinned.

“Naye, me lovely princess. Think! Yer friend Lukas had some, Jean did not. Hehe!” His sudden chuckle caught the attention of Tyler and Sydney, who stopped arguing. Lukas, who had in vain tried to intervene, turned his head as well. “Me knew ye would blame poor old me. Knew ye well. Let friend Spy talk for once, will ye? Or just look at him. Even me with me one eye sees it.” Now Lukas found himself to be the center of attention. O'Conner was right, he had more to say, but like this, with everybody staring – impossible. Nervously, he wrapped his scarf tighter around his face, wishing he had put on his mask before he had left his room. Tyler was about to open his mouth again for another sharp remarked, but stopped himself when he caught Jo's and Sydney's warning glares at him as they looked in his direction. He, too, now watched the Spy's face closely.

“Weird to see ya without ya mask,” he finally remarked dryly. “S...sorry...” “Damn, don't apologize for every little shit, man.” “Ty, honey.” Sydney put his hand on the Scout's head and ruffled the short hair. “Be glad he apologized instead of saying your hair looks weird today,” he good-naturedly teased the young man.

“Wait!” He let the scowling Scout's hair alone and stared intensely at his assistant, almost laughing when he finally understood. “Lukas, admit it! You are looking as good as usual! Except for the missing mask, everything is in perfect order, even your watch... You didn't sleep at all! Seriously, honey, I didn't drag you out of the office and tell you to go to bed so you'd smuggle work into your room! Do you want to overwork yourself again?” “Um, Sonny, lecture him about that later, okay? Lukas, is that true? You couldn't have a nightmare because you weren't asleep?” Jo interrupted her brother and shoved his upper body aside to gain a better view at the now crimson face of the Spy.

“Why didn't you say so right away?” “I... I tried, it's just... you didn't listen, and argued, and...”

Helplessly, he looked from one reproachful face to the other, carefully avoiding their eyes. He really had tried, it was just that nobody had heard his voice while they were busy talking and ranting at each other. “Lukas,” Sydney sighed and smiled encouragingly at him, “we really have to work on that problem, don't we? Let's talk about it tomorrow, okay?” “So I was right the whole time!” Jo didn't even try to hide the triumph she felt.

“Toby, wake up, darling. Anyway. Everyone of us who was asleep was at least for some time caught in a nightmare, unable to wake up, until... yeah, until what? Why could we wake up, but the others not?” The Scout moved around Sydney and snatched the bottle from Jo's hand. He sniffed, flinched at the smell and put the bottle back on the table.

“I hate to ask, but do ya guys think we should tell the Medic? Before he drills any heads open? Or maybe he would when we tell him...” He picked the bottle up again and took a long swig. “That stuff's disgusting.” “It's for real men, lad. And real ladies,” O'Conner quickly added and smiled at the frowning female Sniper. Sydney ignored the exchange about the quality of the former Demoman's drinks. “Don't think that bad of Martin, Ty, he's not a monster. However, yes, you’ve got a point. Guess we should tell him.” The others nodded. Suddenly, everyone jumped up from their chairs. A shrill, long and painful yell echoed through the corridor and faded in the distance. “The Banshee...” O'Conner whispered. Sydney wanted to answer, when the light-bulbs over their heads burst. Broken bits of glass and tiny sparks rained down on them. Through the door, they heard the same faint cracking and buzzing sounds when more lights exploded. “Quickly, out of here, back to the west wing! Jo, give me Toby!” Sydney already shoved Tyler and Lukas across the room towards the door, his sister and O’Conner followed. “No! Don't worry, he's not too heavy,” Jo insisted and pressed the boy closer against her body. Sydney nodded. Back in the corridor, they were surrounded by darkness. Another tortured, bodiless wail echoed from the walls and in their heads. They stopped, protecting their ears with their hands from the loud, piercing noise when it lingered right above them. “SYD!” Jo shouted against the deafening screams. She found one of his arms in the darkness and pulled it away from his head when he didn't answer. “I DON'T LIKE THIS AT ALL! SHOULDN'T WE EVACUATE?” “YA KNOW, SHE’S GOT A POINT!” Tyler threw in, moving closer when he heard them talking. As suddenly as they had come, the voices began to fade. They didn't disappear, they only moved away, down the corridor and only a moment later, they filled the small hall that connected the two wings of the basement. “Fuck! Jo, be careful!” Ty warned. Small splinters of glass from the destroyed light-bulbs cut into his bare feet when he made a careful step. The low curse from the Sniper told him that his advice came too late. “Sydney... what's happening here?” Hearing Lukas' timid voice so clearly in the darkness was strange; or maybe it was only the question that made Tyler feel uncomfortable. He wanted to know what was going on, but yet, he feared the answer. “Hope ya don't believe in any bullshit like ghosts,” the Scout sneered when Sydney didn't answer right away.

Tyler certainly did not believe in ghosts. There had to be a logical explanation behind this. A prank, a trick from one of the other teams. Or another kind of attack. Even if they often weren't involved in fighting, he would have bet that everyone of them had made one or two enemies, either over the years before they ended up here, or after. 'But who the hell would go against the whole team?' “O'Conner, what about Matthew? And Nicloai? Are they still here?”

Tyler flinched at Sydney's question.

'Right, what about them?' Even if he wasn't a close friend to their second cook and the constantly high Soldier, the Scout felt guilty. He simply had forgotten about them. “Nicolai left for his holiday shortly before we were drinking tonight,” the Scotsman replied to Tyler's relief. One person less to worry about. And to search for.

'Wait, what about...?!' Jo was faster. “That only leaves Matthew. What about Jean and the twins? Syd, we should check on the twins!” The Scout froze on the spot. Over his worry how to get the paralyzed Tentaspy out of the dark building, he had completely forgotten about Michael and Gabriel. The locks on the doors that kept them in their room were electronic.

“Fuck, are only the lights broken or is it a total blackout?” “Don't know, but when the lights burst throughout the building there's a good chance of an electrical short in the whole system,” Sydney growled.

“Good, I don't want us to separate. I'm sorry for Matthew, but this is urgent. We have to hurry to the medical tract at once. Ty, Jo, darlings, I'm sorry about your feet, but this can't be helped now.” “Understood.”

In the darkness, the Scout and the female Sniper nodded. This wouldn't be fun, but neither of them felt much like finding their way back to their rooms. Not only that, they didn't want to lose more time than necessary. The sooner they could get out of here, the better.

Furthermore, if the twins really had a chance to break out it was high time to act before they were free - if they weren't already.

'If they aren't behind this after all... No, that's stupid.'

Tyler had seen with his own eyes in the Medic's office that one twin was in the same state as Jean. Mike's attack against the Medic, his curses and threats, should be proof enough that they couldn't be the reason for the dreams or the voices. Or the burst lights. How could they have done all of this anyway? How could anyone stage something like that?

'How the fuck do we stop this shit?'

*

'Head hurts... Damn you, O'Conner! Damn you and your drinking games...' The team members knew that it wasn't even worth the try to beat the Scottish cook in anything involving emptying several bottles of scrumpy, rum or whiskey. However, better knowledge and experience didn't stop most of them from accepting the challenge once in a while. The female Sniper hardly remembered how she got back to her room and that she had fallen asleep the moment she had crawled into her bed. The first thing she knew was how the throbbing pain behind her forehead had woken her up. She tried to open her eyes only to realize they had been open the whole time. Confused about how she could have slept like this, while staring into the darkness, she tried to blink, but nothing happened. Or maybe it did, she couldn't say for sure. Eyes closed or not, it was dark and her mind still kept spinning from the aftereffects of too much alcohol and not enough sleep. She continued staring at the ceiling, soon feeling bored by the dull black. Hopefully dull enough to let her doze off again soon. After a while, she silently began to count, not realizing that she soon adapted the rhythm of the ticking clock on the nightstand. A scream, a furious, angry yell in the distance.

She woke up again and listened.

Nothing but silence.

No voices, no shouts, no footsteps rushing away or doors being slammed.

'Okay, just a fucking drunk dream. Lay down, close your eyes and get some goddamn sleep.' To her surprise, she had never sat up. This whole time, she had been lying in her bed, her eyes wide open and staring into the distance. Something was wrong. 'Calm down, Jo, it's alright, it's just fucking O'Conner's moonshine... Tomorrow, you'll get up, complain about the headache and strangle him with his eye-patch...' At least her mind seemed to work normally, as she noticed with grim satisfaction. Her eyelids still refused to close. 'No big deal, still dreaming. If this was real, you'd 'have gotten used to the darkness by now...' As if to mock her, the darkness in front of her eyes began to move. First, it was a pulsating mass thickening around her, then becoming more and more diffuse at the edges of her peripheral vision. Like a sky covered with clouds now slowly clearing up, the white ceiling began to shimmer through. Only the spot the Sniper's eyes focused on remained black. 'Brain, you had your fun, enough with the dirty tricks...' She watched the spot with growing uneasiness. Without a source of light and her glasses, the shape reminded her too much of something she didn't want to have in her room, especially not above her face. At least it didn't move. But if it didn't move, then it was different than the rest of the retreating darkness... 'Fuck you, dream!' she wanted to snarl at the roundish-shaped spot, certain that her voice would break the barrier between illusion and reality. All she could do was thinking. 'Fuck it!' Angry with herself and her poor night-vision, she wanted to pull the blanket tighter around her and roll onto her side. Out of sight, out of mind. Nothing but thinking. She couldn't move. Not her body, not her fingers or hands or arms.

This was not a dream. Her eyes refused to blink. Hell, even her eyeballs didn't move when she tried to stop staring at the thing above her. 'Hahaha.' A nervous laugh formed in her head along with many curse words, but no matter how hard she tried, her tongue and lips remained paralyzed. The only noise beside the clock was her heartbeat. 'Oh god, what if it also stops...' She thought she felt how the muscles in her long legs twitched, wanting to kick her cover away and jump out of her bed. She thought she felt her whole body shivering. But nothing happened while her fingers clung to the bed sheet. She thought they would, but they didn't. Even her breathing didn't increase when she thought it should. Nothing. Every little natural movement was the illusion, not what hoovered above her head. As slowly as she couldn't refuse anymore to realize that she was caught in her own body, the edges of the spot on the ceiling took shape. Horrified, she was forced to watch how a spot larger than her hand slowly stretched first one, then a second thin, stick-like limb. It wasn't motionless. It was black and oval and had eight spindly legs. It moved. Not from one side to the other, no, but she could clearly see how each leg of the spider twitched in turn. Randomly at first. Then, as it became larger and larger, the legs moved in a flowing rhythm synchronized with the ticking of the clock. 'Fuck NO!' This wasn't a dream, and so it didn't become larger. It was coming closer! Slowly, it crawled down from the ceiling along its almost invisible, silken thread. Cold sweat tickled down the Sniper's forehead while she saw the creature with brutal clarity. Suddenly feeling sick as she stared at the black, bulging back of the spider, she was fully convinced that this wasn't a dream. The knowledge that this one probably wasn't poisonous didn't help. Any moment it would be down. The command she gave her hand to move, to search for the switch of the lamp standing beside her echoed in her head together with a scared and frustrated scream. If she could only get hold of anything to throw at the beast! If she could only roll on her side, out of the bed and just leave the room. Telling the others that the only female mercenary of the team was as scared of a little, stupid spider like any ordinary woman wasn't something to look forward to. But everything would be easier to endure than this moment here. She was about to die. If she couldn't move soon, she would touch the creature with her shoulder once she tried to turn. It was so huge... Any minute, it would be there, and cover her whole face and her heart would simply stop moving, like the rest of her body. Even that would be better than feeling the creature's body over her eyes, nose and mouth. It was close enough for her to see its head, how the faint light of an unknown source was reflected by countless little lenses of the compound eyes. 'Please, go away... please go away, just go away, please... Please don't happen...' Soon, she would die. She wanted to hold her breath. Her stomach turned at the idea of breathing the same air as the beast only hung a few inches above her face. Her body refused that command, too, and as mercilessly as before, she was forced to watch closely how the black thing slowly turned around. One single leg let go of the gently swinging thread. It bent and it twitched, and it pointed directly at her right eye. Her heart was beating regularly, as if nothing was happening at all, and she suddenly understood – she wouldn't faint or die. She would just lay here and nobody would come. 'Syd.. busy with your team and men... Jean is pissed, Ty has his own problems and...' Everyone had an excuse not to come, even if she could cry for help. She was alone. The thing, the fear... they would never stop. Left alone with her fear, a motionless body and her son. The hind legs lowered, any second they would rest on her lips. 'Toby...' “Tobias!” The one, single word broke the spell. She held her breath and coughed as she almost choked on the silent screams that now tried to force themselves out of her throat. Violently, she pulled her arms in front of her face and hit her own nose. At the same time, she tossed herself around. Her legs got tangled in the blanket. The moment her body was given back to her, she shook and kicked uncontrollably. With a loud thud, she fell out of her bed. Jo's head missed the edge of the nightstand only by an inch, but the pain she felt when landing on the thin carpet was enough for her to snap out of her panic. Quickly, she rose to her feet and rushed to the other end of the room, frantically hitting the wall with her flat hand. Finally, the light flickered when she hit the switch. With one hand on the knob of the door and ready to storm out if necessary, her eyes hectically searched the room. Nothing. “Okay, Johanne, pull yourself together. You are not a little girl. You are not paralyzed. And you are not dreaming.” The pain in her body caused by the fall on the floor were proof enough to her. “And there's no chance that you'd miss a monster of that size, glasses on or not!” Listening to her own voice was comforting. It worried her that she couldn't actually remember the moment she had woken up from this nightmare, but right now, as she gasped for breath and heard herself speaking, she felt wide awake. This time, staring was her choice. Tensed up and ready to leave her room anytime if she saw something move, she glared at the white bedsheets and the blanket on the floor. After a short moment that felt like several cold, slow hours she dared to glance at the nightstand. Again, she waited a bit, then she darted forwards and snatched her glasses from the wooden surface. On her way back to the door, she quickly picked up a pair of pants and a shirt from the floor. She had put them on the moment she stepped out into the corridor. Eight-legged monster or not, now she would make sure that her boy was alright, then have a glass of cold water. Once the door was closed behind her, she exhaled deeply and searched her pockets for a cigarette. “And I won't give that black fucker the satisfaction of having me run into one of the others in my underwear. Dammit, this is as useless as Jean's trash.”

Annoyed, she stuffed the broken lighter back into her pants pocket.

*

Relieved, she carefully closed the door to Toby's room behind her. The little boy was sleeping peacefully and so sound, he didn’t even hear his mother entering. He was breathing regularly; usually a good sign. Tonight however, after Jo’s own nightmare, it worried her at first. For a moment she had been tempted to wake him up, just to make sure he wasn’t in a similar paralyzed state as she had been before. Her worries turned out to be unfounded. When she had made up her mind to shake him gently, Toby turned around and smiled at her in his sleep before she could touch the child’s shoulder. Careful not to wake him from apparently nice dreams, she withdrew her hand and left the room. “Look out!”

“Fuck!” Jo stumbled backwards and almost fell for a second time this night to the floor. Tyler, their Scout, was less fortunate - there was no wall right behind him to break his fall. “Ouch, Ty, what the fuck are you doing out here in the middle of the night?” She offered the Scout a hand and pulled him back on his feet. “Funny, was just about to ask ya the same,” Tyler answered without much gratitude, straightening his skirt once he had stood up again.

“A secret date with Jean?” Jo grinned and chose a cigarette from a crumpled packet when she remembered she didn’t have a working lighter with her. Sighing, she put the cigarette back. The Scout blushed at her question.

‘Bet he denies it any second, because there are so many other reasonable explanations to wear this stuff at night. Nice legs, boy.’ The skirt was shorter than those he usually wore at work, and even shorter as Jo would prefer it in her free-time. Ironic how Tyler was the most normal Scout on this team. And the most feminine dressed team-member, even compared to the actual woman standing in front of him. Jo frowned when she suddenly saw a very clear image of the others' reaction in her mind if she walked into the canteen in one of Tyler’s outfits. ‘Immature idiots.’ “It’s none of your business, but no, no secret date. If ya really need to know, that fucking squid wanted to talk with me, yeah, and I didn’t. But as I couldn’t sleep anyway, geez... Why am I even talking to ya?" he scoffed as the Sniper’s grin widened. “Sorry, kid, go enjoy your date, don’t mind me.” “Like I would.” Unsure if Tyler referred to enjoying his date or her being awake, Jo looked after the youth as he strutted past her, aiming for the stairs leading to the first floor. Barefooted, as she noticed. Now that she thought about it - his attire didn’t look as dainty as usual. His hair was still messy as if he had just crawled out of his bed, and his clothes were wrinkled. So his story about not being able to sleep was apparently the truth. Briefly, she wondered if she should ask him about nightmares. “Yo, Jo! Is wearing ya shirt inside-out a new fashion trend? ” Tyler’s voice called from the top of the stairs. “Bite me, Ty.”

Grumbling to herself, she looked down her front.

‘Brat’s even right, dammit.’ Not that it mattered. After all, unlike a certain, skirt-wearing loudmouth, instead of a nightly date only a glass of water and her bed waited for her. Both were more preferable than a horny Tentaspy - she had enough of eight-legged creatures for one night.

*

Finally, Jo began to feel the exhaustion she needed to fall asleep again. The only reason she was still sitting at the table in the kitchen of the basement, holding an empty glass, was that she was too tired to walk back to her room and searched it for the would-be imaginary spider. And for coming up with a solution if she found one after all. Somehow, the chairs and the table didn’t seem as uncomfortable as usual.

She almost jumped from her seat when the door swung open and a panting Scout with wide opened eyes stood in front of her. She hadn’t even heard him coming. “JO!” “Damn, Ty, what’s wrong?” She gasped in alarm. “Something’s wrong with Jean! Come with me!”

Without waiting for her answer, he was out again. She put her glass down and rushed after him. At night, even though they weren’t wearing shoes, the sounds their steps made on the wooden floor seemed loud enough to wake the whole basement.

This time, Tyler hurried up the main stairs between the east and the west wing and she followed him quickly until they reached the canteen. Even with only the emergency lights on she already saw what had frightened the Scout. It worried her immensely, too. On the floor of the corridor, right in front of the door leading to the canteen, lay a huge body, half human, half tentacle creature. “Jean!” She knelt next to him and shook him by his shoulder. “He won't wake up!” The Scout stood next to her, his hands aimlessly running over his skirt and through his hair. “Thanks, I can see that!” she snapped more sarcastically than intended. Just that moment, she had turned the Spy’s head into her direction. Jean’s eyes were open. Without blinking or any sign of recognition, the Spy stared at her. She snapped her fingers right in front of his face. No reaction. An indefinable fear rose inside of her. Less gentle than before she shook him again. Next, she took his arm by the wrist and felt for his pulse. Jean was definitely alive, but he didn’t move. His chest rose slowly up and down. If it weren’t for his eyes and the fact that he was lying on the floor in the middle of the corridor, she would have assumed he was peacefully asleep. “JEAN! HELLOOO!”

Not caring if someone downstairs might hear her, she yelled into the Spy’s ear - in vain. Not even one muscle in his face or body twitched. Just as she had feared. “Fuck! Something’s seriously wrong tonight...” “What the fuck are you talking about?” Startled by the agitated voice she lifted her head. “Oh right, Ty...” “Yeah, Ty, I just brought ya here, remember? WHAT the fuck did ya mean?”

If the circumstances had been different, she would have laughed at the sight of the young man. Tyler usually didn’t miss any opportunity to express his dislike of Jean and how much the man’s advances towards him annoyed him. His pale face, how he was chewing on his lip and the erratic gestures of his hands spoke doubtlessly of the great anxiety the Spy’s condition caused for him. Even more than his aggressive, but shaky voice. However, Jo, too, was very worried – it was bad enough that the uneasiness after her own nightmare returned. Seeing Jean like this made it difficult for her to believe in a coincidence. “Nothing...” she replied hesitantly. Inwardly, she shivered. Thankfully she had been able to wake up. She thought of her son. What if Toby had been in this state? Suddenly, she felt less glee when she looked at Tyler. Actually, she doubted she would have been able to keep control if she were in his place. “Nothing,” she repeated and stood up vigorously. “Don’t worry, Ty. I’ll get Syd and we’ll take him down, to Martin.” Satisfied, she nodded. At least one person present should act reasonably, and as she couldn’t expect that from the paralyzed Tentaspy or the restless Scout, it was up to her. Yet she was skeptical if her first idea of running to her big brother was really a reasonable idea at all. “Just great, this way, he’ll at least be groomed when the butcher finishes him off!” Only with difficulty, Jo suppressed the urge to slap the Scout. Tyler’s tone of voice was viciously and aggressive, but he wasn’t thinking clearly. Starting a fight right now wouldn’t help anyone. “Don’t be unfair, Ty! Both have their quirks, but they are doing good jobs.” With some effort, her words sounded almost as gentle as she had hoped they would. True, nobody on the team felt very comfortable with their Medic, but if they were honest, this was only due to his attitude and the lack of empathy for his patients. His work as a doctor was unobjectionable.

“Wait here, I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay, Ty?” With his eyes focused on the motionless body, the Scout nodded. Jo didn't feel entirely reassured, but lacking any other ideas, she only patted him on his back and darted off, back to the stairs.

*

“Hey, Sonny, wake up!”

She knocked three times against the door of Sydney’s private room, not bothering anymore if she woke up one of the others as well.

Opposite his room was hers anyway. The Scout had his quarters in the same corridor, and he was awake, too. She doubted that Tobias would hear her - her son was a heavy sleeper once she could finally tuck him in.

O'Conner's, the former Demoman and now cook, and Lukas', their second Spy, rooms were close as well, but she seriously didn't care at all if she woke one of those two men. Certainly not that O'conner with his damned fusel.

'If I wake you up, you better have the mother of all headaches,' she thought grimly. Nobody answered her call. She shrugged and opened the door. As expected, it wasn't locked. “Sonny?” she whispered, and when she didn't hear a sound she switched on the ceiling lamp. At the sudden brightness, she squinted her eyes, but even before she got used to it, she froze on the spot and inhaled sharply. Sydney was laying on his side and staring at her. This wasn't a coincidence. She didn't dream earlier. Maybe of the spider, but not of the state of her body. Like her eyes and Jean's, her brother's were wide open and motionless. If she hadn't experienced it by herself, and if she hadn't convinced herself that the Spy was alive, seeing Sydney like this - like dead - would have frightened her. Even though she knew wasn't looking at a corpse, it was still unnerving. Slowly, she walked closer. She saw at once that Sydney was breathing in a slow, even rhythm. Tiny pearls of sweat ran down his forehead. His staring eyes were witnessing something that was invisible to her. 'Please, wake up...' As she had tried with Jean before, she now shook her brother by his shoulder. Like before, nothing happened. “God, Sonny, not you, too... Why could I wake up, but you guys... Fuck this shit! Sorry, darling, this is gonna hurt me more than you.” Sick of the worry and the nagging fear, she turned Sydney onto his back and straddled him. “HEY! Ya fuckin' BITCH! I'm TALKIN' to YA!” With a smack, her flat hand hit his right cheek. “LISTEN WHEN YA SISTER'S SPEAKING WITH YA! YA GODDAMN TEAM NEEDS YA!” This time, her hand left a red print on the left side of his face. She held her breath and waited a few painfully long seconds. Then, her brother's eyelids flattered, and his gaze became less distant. “Gott sei dank...” Both her head and shoulders dropped and she exhaled when Sydney blinked at her in confusion. “Darling, what's wrong? Why did you hit me?” His voice still sounded far away. Carefully, he felt for his face. “It wasn't my fault... I didn't want to... Johanne, what are you doing here, how did you come...?” Suddenly, she began to laugh. “What's so funny, dear?”

At his frown, she only laughed more. “Nothing, Sonny. It's just... everything's so absurd.”

She tried to calm herself and climbed down from the Sniper. The bewildered look on his face when she pulled his blanket away made her giggle again.

After another moment, she composed herself and became serious. “Something's really wrong with Jean. Hurry and get up.”

Skeptically, she looked him over. “But first, get dressed. Tyler is already hysterical enough without seeing you in a pink satin slip with a zebra pattern.”

*

Back in the corridor, Jo quickly explained the situation to her brother, leaving out a few details. Including herself, she knew of three people being caught in a weird, coma-like sleep, and she reminded herself to ask Tyler as soon as possible if there was more behind his “couldn't sleep”-remark. Sydney hadn't been really aware of his surroundings until she had shoved him out of his room. He, too, seemed to have troubles at first to distinguishing his dream from reality. But once outside, dressed in a less flashy manner than before with sensible pants and a – of course – pink shirt, he was fully awake and demanded to know what was going on. Especially why his own sister thought it was necessary to slap him. So she told him about Jean's condition, and how much it was like Sydney's when she woke him up, neither mentioning herself nor how drowsy Tyler was when she had bumped into him. “I... is everything alright...?” With Jo talking fast and Sydney listening with growing worry, they almost missed the timid voice behind them. Only when a door shut, they turned around just before they headed into the main hall. “Lukas!” Both Snipers shouted in surprise. The Spy's shoulders twitched and he took a step back. “Yes, it's okay, dear, don't worry,” Sydney answered in a gentle, reassuring manner and smiled.

“Nothing is all right! Jean collapsed, Ty's freaking out, and this whole fucking night is just crazy!” the words burst out of Jo. She reached again for her cigarettes but stopped. “And my fuckin' lighter is broken. Syd, fire?” “Sorry, love, in my office.” “God, I swear, if I don't get a smoke soon I'll burn this God forsaken dump to the ground!” Confused, Lukas looked from one Sniper to the other during their conversation. For a moment, the two seemed to have forgotten about him. This wouldn't have been the first time he was ignored or overlooked. In fact, most of the time he was glad when this happened. However, he didn't miss the frowns on the siblings' faces, and Jo's words were very disconcerting. “I... if Jean is sick, we... ahem, shouldn't we inform the Medic? I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt...” he hectically apologized when both stopped talking and looked at him.

*

“So why again did it take you guys so long?” Tyler groaned under the weight of the Tentaspy when the female Sniper let go of the Spy's right shoulder. “Because my dear brother didn't want to interrupt his beauty-sleep,” she replied and opened the door to the elevator. The Scout gave a snort. “Great. Next time, send a prince to wake him up with a kiss.” “Ty, honey, be nice,” Sydney warned him, but he also chuckled.

Together with Lukas, the Sniper had wrapped his arms around the unconscious Spy's midriff. Even with four people, carrying the Tentaspy was more difficult than expected. “Cut that honey-bullshit, seriously. And we are taking the elevator – why?” “You want to maneuver him through several doors and drag him down the stairs?” Jo answered in Sydney's place. “The stairs are too narrow for more than two people walking side by side. Good luck, Ty, getting him down without knotting his tentacles together.” “Point taken. Would ya be so kind and help carrying?” The Scout's panic and insecurity from before was gone. He was more his sarcastic, impatient self, although more aggressive than usually. His worries about Jean hadn't lessened, he only forced himself to keep control. The elevator connected the first floor of the headquarters' depot with the basement, so it would only be a ride of a few minutes once the device got under way. Nevertheless they put the heavy body down and stretched, trying to relax their muscles from the strain. Jean hadn't even twitched. He was as motionless as before and his eyes still stared hard into any direction his head was turned. The Scout shuddered when he looked at the pale face.

When they had moved the Spy, the head shook from one side to the other as the neck-muscles didn't hold it in place. Now, the head had rolled back and faced the ceiling. Gravity had caused the lower jaw to drop a little, revealing the sharp teeth. Tyler had never really feared Jean as a creature. Mocked, cursed, insulted, provoked, yes. Felt uneasy when the Spy once had threatened to eat him, with just those pointy teeth. But now, with the vacant expression, without the usual smirks, smiles or frowns, he looked so different from the Jean he knew. Almost scary, as he reluctantly admitted to himself. Not even like a corpse. More like a hideous puppet. “Lukas, hit the button, please.”

Sydney's friendly voice distracted Tyler from his thoughts. The elevator already began to move, slowly though. At this hour, it wasn't running at full power and it took a moment to activate the generator. The Scout raised his eyebrows when Jo searched the pockets of the Spy's blazer. “Ah, finally!” With a happy smile on her face, the female Sniper stood up, and lit the cigarette between her lips. Puzzled, Tyler watched her. Suddenly, he recognized the familiar looking item in her hand. “JO! This is JEAN'S! Don't tell me ya just stole it when... when...” “Ty, babe, calm down.” She took a long pull and exhaled slowly. Smoke filled the cramped place. “Ya looking like I've stripped his body. He's not dead, ya know. God, this feels good...” The Scout gasped at her, for once not lacking the words to voice his thoughts. “You... you... THAT'S NOT THE POINT!” “So? Okay, honey, I woke up after the shittiest nightmare, ran into your horny self, fell half asleep in the kitchen when you came crying for my help. Jean is out cold, my dear brother was caught in dreamland, and I haven't had a smoke in forever because MY FUCKING LIGHTER IS BROKEN! So, Ty, what's the point? Tell me, I DARE YOU!” Both Sniper and Scout glared at each other. Lukas slowly moved closer to the door. Tyler and Jo both usually had calm tempers. Sarcastic, yes, but it took a while to really anger them. It was rare for them to lose their countenance at the same time, even rarer that a real quarrel broke out between them. But when this happened, especially while they were in an elevator with the paralyzed tentacle-creature between them, Lukas would have preferred to be anywhere, but here. “Ladies, please calm down. This is nothing serious to argue about,” Sydney said soothingly. “Don't give me that lady-shit!” Tyler and Jo alike snapped at the Sniper and Sydney opened his mouth to retort. The cabin began to shake. The Scout and the female Sniper fell across the motionless Spy's body. Sydney tumbled backwards and tried to get hold of the handrail. Instead, his hand got tangled in Lukas' scarf and fell down as well. “Hey, Lukas, haven't noticed ya not wearing your mask!” Sydney exclaimed in delight when he saw the Spy's face and blond hair. Far too delighted in the opinions of the others, regarding the situation, like there was nothing more important to worry about.

Blushing heavily, Lukas quickly put on his hat and adjusted his scarf, covering most of his face again.

“S... sorry, w...when I heard you earlier, I just... w...well...” “Guess that's not the point, too,” Jo sighed and gratefully accepted when Tyler offered her a hand to pull her up. “Sorry, Ty, wasn't very sensitive there.” She handed him the lighter she still held in her hand, but the Scout shook his head. “Yeah, alright, I overreacted. So, what's goin' on here? We should be in the basement, why don't the doors open?”

*

Giving a frustrated sigh, Tyler leaned against the wall with his back and slid down to the floor. “This night sucks.” “Hear, hear.” Jo followed his example and sat down against the opposite wall. The cigarette she had been smoking had gone out when they had fallen. She was about to light a new one when she looked at Tyler.

“Is it really okay?”

The Scout shrugged. “Your lungs, not mine. He doesn't smoke anyway. Keep it if you want.” His voice was so full of feigned indifference that it made the Snipers grin. “Why does he carry that thing around anyway? Oh wait!” Jo chuckled. “This has nothing to do with all the candles in his room, does it? Ty, you sly, romantic dog!” “Shut up, you...!” “Ladies, ladies... and gentlemen!” Sydney sat down next to the angry Scout and patted on his shoulder. “Jo, love, stop teasing him. Ty, honey, don't take her too seriously. We are all a bit... worried and nervous. Calm down, deary.”

The Sniper rose again and turned towards the door. “Lukas, any idea what to do to get us out of here?” he asked and put one arm casually around the silent Spy's shoulders. With a frown, Sydney began to push the buttons of the elevator's control unit, one after the other when nothing happened. “I...” Wincing under the unexpected touch, Lukas watched his boss' hands as one finger repeatedly hit the emergency-button. “Sy... Sydney... maybe you shouldn't...” His warning came too late. Finally, Sydney's efforts were rewarded - the technology behind the panel responded to the Sniper's stubborn tries. The cabin began to shake again. The dim light flickered and suddenly shone so bright that the four team-members covered their eyes with their hands. Something above their heads made a cracking sound. The lights went out.

“W...wait!”

Dreading the whole situation, the Spy winced when the unexpected visitor was about to walk across the room toward the door, forcing Lukas to interact. Error was a stranger, and robot or not, interacting with strangers wasn't Lukas' strong point. He had of course heard of the artificial Spy who worked in the same profession as him. A machine that looked and behaved all human. Despite Error's friendship with Sydney, Lukas had never really had anything to do with this unique Spy. But Sydney had asked him to watch out for him. He didn't want to disappoint Sydney. If he wasn't able to finish this little job, he definitely would... Or, almost as terrifying, Sydney might laugh at him and decide to ask somebody else to be his close assistant. Bracing himself, he swiftly stood up and caught up with Error. He inhaled deeply, and placed one hand on the robot's shoulder. Inwardly, he sighed with relief when Error stopped. At least he had been able to prevent him from leaving. The second of ease was short-lived and vanished completely when Error turned around and faced him. Nervously, Lukas took a step back, almost stumbling over one of the many cardboard boxes lying scattered over the floor. He muttered a short, Swedish curse, annoyed with himself that he hadn't found the time – or rather the courage – to persuade Sydney to finally clean up the chaos their sudden return from the last, short holiday had caused. This stranger was intruding on his comfort zone, and he couldn't make up his mind where to go to avoid the close presence. Fleeing to the side would appear very impolite, and he didn't want to anger their guest. Stepping backwards over the box was too risky. What if he really fell? Machine or not, Error had shown enough signs of human emotions, and Lukas was convinced that the white-haired man would laugh at him if that happened. For now, he simply looked down. He let go of the other Spy's shoulder. To keep his hand busy instead of awkwardly hanging down by his side, he rubbed his on neck. “S..stay. Please, make yourself comfortable... uh... d..do you need something, I mean, Sydney said if you woke up... I mean, rebooted, well... fan helvete!” he ended with a curse. “No, no I'm sorry, I didn't mean...” The other man's calm, polite smile was even more unnerving than a disturbed, angry reaction would have been. Sydney had a similar way to make him nervous. Whatever happened or whatever Lukas did, the Sniper only showed an amused smile. “You want me I rather go?” Error suggested politely. Lukas squirmed, flinching behind his mask and scarf. No matter how much he wished to be alone now, this wasn't about what he wanted. Sydney's words had been clear when he had left earlier. “N..no! Sydney said Error is our guest. I mean, you are our guest, and mustn't leave before he's back and you keep a close eye on... I mean, I keep.. I have to keep a close eye on you, that's what he said...” Good, he had finally explained the situation. Bad, was the fact he had made a fool of himself, as usual. Here he was, another person who would never take him seriously... another Spy, of all people... creatures... things. “Sydney... comes back, and I wait?” Error answered, his face blushing. Lukas nodded, glad that he didn't show any sign of a reprimand. Still, their visitor looked too happy with his smile and the reddened cheeks. Lukas was a Spy after all, so it hadn't escape him in the past that this man was interested in his boss. It was awkward to stand so close to somebody who plainly had similar feelings about Sydney as he had himself. It was an absurd situation. Lukas did not intend to put up a fight for the attention of the Sniper, but being face to face with a rival Sydney ever so often had favored... 'Absurd indeed, this is a robot, a machine, what is all this smiling and blushing anyway?'he thought, not realizing he was frowning again. He knew that he was blushing as much, if not more, than the robot when Error's gaze became more intense. Turning his head as far away as he dared without fearing he was too impolite, he tried to advert his eyes. He was sure that he was being analyzed right now. Immediately, he regretted his harsh thoughts. “I'm sorry... I mean, yes, we wait, he comes back soon, it's just... because of the horrible robot invasion... ah! Sorry! I mean, no offense, I didn't mean to...!” If he had a talent, he knew it would be saying the wrong things at the wrong time. He raised his hands in defense, finally looking directly at the other Spy. God, what if he had angered their guest with a careless remark about robots? He knew by hearsay that Error was a formidable killer. And what would Sydney say if he heard how he, Lukas, had insulted the Sniper's friend? Suddenly, he felt too warm under his scarf, and panic rose within him.

Maybe he could run and find Sydney. after a quick, polite excuse... if he could only come up with that quick, polite excuse now... He hadn't realized he had been waving his arms nervously until Error touched him. Two hands lay down gently on his shoulders in a reassuring, friendly gesture and his own movements stopped abruptly. A part of him noticed that there was no hostility coming from Error and that the caring, worried look in the robot's beautiful face was not false. The voice inside him was yelling too loudly. He felt threatened. He was certain that nothing good could come from this situation. To make matters worse, it was all his fault. “Your eyes! They have the bright blue color!” the robot exclaimed, almost cheerfully. “They look the very pretty.” This... Was this an attempt to calm him down with a compliment, or was this guy mocking him? Lukas’ eyes widened and he found it hard to breathe when Error stared directly at him. On an impulse, he almost drew his knife, but Sydney would never forgive him if he hurt Error. Not that he really wanted to hurt someone who wasn't a real threat, but someone who was nice and friendly. He wouldn't forgive himself if he lost control as quickly as that, ruining this beautiful face because of his own ugly cowardice. “You is feel alright?” The soft question seemed to come from far away and he nodded, being oddly lost while he gazed back at crimson irises. Any second, he would faint. He could feel it. He would simply faint. “And now, kiss!” a third voice suddenly laughed from the door at other end of the room.

Both Spies turned their head. Sydney! Lukas breathed easier, glad that the Sniper had returned. But had it really been necessary to make such a joke? Now, he blushed even more, only finding small comfort in the fact that Error's face showed a similar reaction. Of course his brain refused to come up with something witty to say, and while he was still searching for an adequate response, Error was faster.

“You want to see that?”

Lukas didn't believe his ears, and he knew Sydney's answer before the Sniper spoke. This might have been a joke a moment ago, but Sydney already saw the potential of his silly remark. Lukas knew him well enough, and the intent was clearly written across his boss' face. It was two against one. While this one would rather die than denying Sydney any wish, which didn't really make the situation any easier. Nevertheless, Lukas shook his head. His eyes were fixed in agony on the Sniper's lips as they seemed to form the answer in slow motion.

“Yes, honey, of course I want to see how my two favorite Spies kiss,” the Sniper answered with a grin and a soft chuckle. He grabbed one of the chairs in the office. The Sniper turned it around so the back faced the still gaping men. He straddled it, resting his chin on his crossed arms. Error recovered quickly. “W..wait...not...” Lukas tried to protest when slim, white fingers began to remove the scarf. He put his hands against the other Spy's chest, about to push him away, but the long, woven piece of fabric was already gliding to the floor. “But Sydney own the wish and wanting see us kiss.” Gently, one thumb stroked over the now revealed lips. “Scar... she is pretty...”

Lukas swallowed hard. It was only the lower half of his face that had been revealed, and already he felt vulnerable. Error was serious. This was impossible. He couldn't just kiss a stranger, watched by Sydney. Both thumbs had already found their way under the seam of his mask and began to push it up. “Wait...” he repeated. Error was a bit too eager. From the side, Sydney chuckled again.

“Loosen up, Lukas. It's just a kiss, nothing to worry about.” 'Sure, it’s just a kiss. That's why we’ve known each other for years and haven't had one yet. But a stranger should be okay?' He wanted to express his uneasiness, but he couldn't. His tongue refused to move. It was probably for the best, talking back was not something he liked to do. Nervously, Lukas smiled back at Error, not sure who the robot was a partner in crime with. 'Wish I was like you, simply obeying, not having any problems with this at all...' Well, if a machine with a crush on his Sniper, no, his boss, could deal with it, he should at least try. The mask had been taken away. As gently as Error had touched the old scar on his lip before, the now ran his hand through Lukas short, fair hair.

“Very soft,” the Spy smiled at him encouragingly. He bent forward and carefully pressed his lips against Lukas'. “Soft, too.”

Fighting the urge to turn away and simply run for it, the timid Spy cast another quick glance at Sydney. The Sniper's dark blue eyes already glowed with excitement. This put him under more pressure than the man right in front of him.

He knew this look on Sydney's face, had seen it often enough when handsome young men were involved and he better had to leave them alone. For the first time, this look was directed at him. Although not him alone, his mind stated bitterly.

'But still...'

One hand kept stroking his hair, the other was placed on his hip. Both were shaking slightly.

“You no want at the all?” Error's whisper sounded nervous, too.

This amazed him and also, to his surprise, comforted him a bit. He closed his eyes, and things appeared to be easier, now that he neither had to see red nor dark eyes staring at him. With a shrug, he reached for Error's face, letting his fingers slide over the smooth skin and finally cling to strands of white and partly black hair.

Error understood and kissed him a second time, still careful, but with more intensity. Feeling the lips of a stranger on his was aggravating, but with his eyes closed, Lukas could bear it, even admit they felt nice. Warm and soft, not cold or artificial as he had feared. It was easy to forget for a moment that it was a machine who gently licked over the old scar. A thumb stroked softly over the joint of his jaws, and he relaxed a bit, realizing he had been clenching his teeth. Out of reflex he wanted to wet his own, dry lips, but Error's tongue had already found its way between them. Tentatively, the other Spy licked over lips and teeth, waiting patiently for Lukas to relax a bit more. Finally, Lukas opened his jaws enough to let Error in.

Hesitatingly, still aware that Sydney was watching, Lukas answered the kiss, feeling the Sniper's excited stare on his face. The Spy allowed his own tongue to move when Error's slowly brushed over it. He shivered. A sudden rush of heat ran through his body.

The tension, his nervousness, and being touched and kissed by a robot was overwhelming... by an also nervous robot as he could tell by the trembling hands against his skin. Error, who felt so differently from what Lukas had expected. He even smelled differently than he had imagined, not like a machine. Like a man... careful and overwhelming... He groaned lowly, almost reluctantly leaning deeper into the kiss.

What a lovely sight, Sydney thought as he watched. His ever-present smile was wider than usual as adjusted the shades on the bridge of his nose – it would be a shame not to see this as clearly as possible.

Holding a group of rather individual, if not unique, characters together and organizing their lives so the team functioned efficiently was hard work. It could be a real pain, although nothing had seriously soured his mood completely so far.

A little game like this was a nice reward, and he wouldn't be Sydney if he didn't make the most of it. He knew that both Spies liked him, but he had decided not to think too much about that. Many people liked him, and he liked many back, so nobody should be hurt along the way. And those two definitely didn't seem to be hurt in any way right now.

It was too sweet. Error had read him and understood at once what his mind was thinking. Man or machine, it didn't matter - Error was astonishing. Always helpful, kind and polite, yet so easily blushing when he received some kindness in return. It was cute. The gentle way he handled Lukas and the growing intensity of the kiss they were sharing – beautiful. One hand was reassuringly moving up and down the other Spy's spine, now holding him in a close embrace. All this revealed another, a more passionate, naughty side, and Sydney already loved the idea of exploring it.

Lukas... Yes, Sydney vaguely guessed that putting his assistant in such a situation wasn't the most sensitive thing he could do. For a second he wouldn't have been surprised if Lukas had fled. Or fainted. The Spy certainly looked like he might faint at first. But everything was fine now, as a short, low gasp coming from the nervous man reassured him.

So Sydney had been right; Lukas just needed a little push from time to time. Well, that's what he was there for, right? Flushed cheeks made a sweet contrast to white and light blonde hair, and Sydney noticed with satisfaction that both men shuddered with more than just nervousness.

A lovely, torturing dilemma – watching this was too delicious for words and it didn't escape his eyes that both were good kissers. Too good not to share their gift with a Sniper who only too happily acknowledged the outstanding skills of two attractive men.

Oh well, what to do? Of course he could also just wait until they finished... in other words, until his assistant ran out of air. He chuckled. No, that wasn't an option, what a waste of this nicely built up tension. Really, Error was amazing. Sydney couldn't tell if it was subconsciously or intended, but the robot shifted himself closer to Lukas, pressing his his groin against the other Spy.

Sydney stood up, time to intervene. He should have expected it – Lukas was shying away, and that was something that the Sniper did not want to happen.

'Alright', thought Lukas, 'Sydney had his fun.' They were kissing. Alright, he liked how the tongue of a robot felt in his mouth. No pressure, nothing extraordinary happened to him. Sydney had been right – it was just a kiss. Error's lips were as warm as the hand caressing his back. Warm, gentle and experienced. That, or very well programmed.

'Who programs a killing machine to kiss like that anyway?' he wondered for a second and tried to forget about it. As always, he was thinking too much, and his mind already began to warn him. If he didn't try to relax, he would put up a poor show, even worse than he probably already did. There was no way he was equal to Error, the perfect creation. This was enough to rekindle his nervousness.

He had no idea if it was a coincidence or if Error actually had reacted to his uneasiness, but the kiss suddenly became deeper and more demanding. The hand behind him wandered down his back, closer to his backside. Error moved closer, making their groins touch. Lukas opened his eyes. Hard. He felt definitely a hard-on through the layers of fabric, against his own. How was that even possible, he hadn't realized... and Error was a robot! Was he really built for that?Lukas broke the kiss and shrank back when something – or rather someone pressed against his back.

Sydney!

“Too sexy just to stand by, darling,” the Sniper whispered in his ear from behind, his usual, amused voice altered by a low, growling undertone. Lukas shivered. Two long arms reached around him, taking hold of Error and pulling him closer.

“Error,” Sydney began, still close to the Spy's ear. “you enjoyed this, too, didn't you, sweetheart? Good,” he added when Error nodded. “You two are too adorable. Will you help me? We need to teach our Lukas here how to relax?”

“Sydney...” Lukas' faint attempt of protest was cut off when the tip of the tall Sniper's tongue moved along the outline of his ear. “Shh, it's okay, dear. I know what I'm doing.”

'Not reassuring at all...'

“Of course I have help. Lukas, and Sydney.” Again, Lukas closed his eyes as Error began kissing him, while placing the hands on the nervous Spy's hips. Now it wasn't only Error. From behind, the Sniper shoved his fingers under Lukas' black sweater, letting them rest on his waist. Sydney's tongue wandered to the Spy's throat. Gently, he kissed the pale skin, playfully biting him a few times.

“Oh, Error, honey,” Sydney muttered in between kisses, and Lukas felt his boss' notably hard dick pressed against his bottom. Caught between two aroused men, being kissed and bitten, made fighting back another moan impossible.

“Don't worry about me, dear. I am relaxed.” The Sniper's words were rather whispered than spoken, and his breath cooled the skin which had just been wetted by his lips and tongue.

Shivering at the tingle running from his throat directly into his spine, the blonde Spy tilted his head back. Lukas' sweater covered his throat again the very moment Sydney stopped pushing it down, but the Sniper had something else in mind now.

Gently, he seized the chin of his assistant, and turned his head to the side.

“Hope you don't mind,“ was the only warning Lukas got. For the first time since he had been working with this team and falling for his boss, felt the desired lips on his. Warm, a bit rough from too much sun. When he opened his mouth to let the Sniper's eagerly exploring tongue in, he only responded shyly and hesitatingly, fearing he would be too nervous. Or too greedy.

Three hands were shoved under his sweater; fingers were running over his abdomen, his chest; the fingertips gently tracing his ribs. One hand held still his head in its position, but he hardly noticed it. Very slowly, he was losing his fear of failing.

The scent of the Sniper's aftershave he knew so well now filled his nose. It clouded his mind and reminded him how close he was to this man. He returned the kiss now, not holding back the hunger he had felt for this moment for so long.

Pressed his back tightly against Sydney's body, he almost didn't notice how Error's lips now glided along his throat. His sweater was pushed up by the other Spy, and the flat, almost hollow stomach exposed; milky white skin that almost matched the robot's. A faint, pleased growl eased the last of Lukas' worries away. His boss was satisfied with him.

Lukas enjoyed the taste of cigarettes and coffee. Wanting more, he reached behind his back, feeling for Sydney's hips. He tried to grab him by the belt of his pants, which was excitingly difficult in this position.

His face felt colder when the Sniper suddenly turned away.

Confused, like returning to reality after a dream, Lukas blinked. Two pairs of hands were still touching him, but now it was Error who received Sydney's attention. Bending over the Spy's shoulder, they kissed. Now he remembered. They weren't alone. There was the third one. A beautiful one, whose face with the perfect, delicate and smooth features was painful to watch when it showed the shy excitement Lukas had felt a few seconds ago.

Of course he had known it before, but now he saw it – both of them wanted Sydney. Both of them could have him now. This was better than nothing, right? Error... He was beautiful. The hands that were wandering deeper towards the blonde Spy's belt knew what they were doing. He, himself, didn't. Slowly, Lukas lifted one hand around the other Spy's neck, feeling the soft, black ends of his otherwise white hair brush over his fingers. He almost thought he could feel the man's quickened pulse when he touched his throat. Robots didn't have pulses.

This was absurd. The whole thing was absurd. With such a rival and Sydney curious and horny as always...

Lukas just happened to be here, that's all There was nothing to be curious about him. Before he had finished the thought, he tried to break away with a jolt. Finally, he would do the right thing, as he should have done in the first place – leave. Then he wouldn't be... wouldn't feel like he was in the way.

“You don't want to flee now, not when the real fun is about to begin?”

Sydney knew his assistant well enough. It was actually a surprise that his try to escape had happened so late. He focused on Lukas again. His fingers of one hand ran through the short, blonde hair while his other arm was wrapped around Error's waist. “Believe me, you don't wanna miss that, darling,” the Sniper breathed between a few light kisses.

Without hesitation, his free hand glided over Error's hip and reached for the pale Spy's groin. He gripped the man's hardened length through the fabric, drawing a surprised hiss him.

“I want you here. Both of you.” The amused tone had vanished, and all that was left was the low, growling timbre of a man who meant what he said. Even Lukas couldn't deny it this time. The kiss, more a bite with a followed, soothing lick, wasn't a lie or fabricated.

“Watch, or join, Lukas. I hope you decide for the latter.”

Error had misinterpreted Sydney's body language. The Sniper's hand so suddenly feeling for his dick – even if it was through his clothes – was unexpected. But it was good. Too good; he feared the new adjustments of his system would not be enough to prevent him from overheating a second time today. The situation was unpredictable. One second Sydney kissed Lukas. The next he turned around, opened Error's jacket and helped him out of it. The Spy's shirt was unbuttoned right after it.

Strong hands ran over his torso. He sensed how the warmth in the man's fingers – in his whole body – increased. He wanted to learn more about it, feeling it directly, with his own hands on Sydney's skin.

Still a bit hesitant, Error mirrored the Sniper's actions, freeing him from his shirt.

Humans were so different. It wasn't a programmed process to mimic life. It was life itself he felt pulsating under his sensitive fingertips, not for the first time in his existence. This time, though, it was Sydney's life, and he, Error, could influence it with his touch, feeling the increasing temperature and the fast, strong heartbeat. He heard him breathing in sharper.

Sydney... the man was easy to read right now, it was addicting. More. He needed to experience more of this fascinating human. Sydney's honest reactions encouraged him to lean against the Sniper. Error pulled him into a kiss that was answered right away; the apparent delight was a pleasant, satisfying feeling. He was positive that their encounter wouldn't end here today with just kissing, and what would, would feel good.

How different from the kiss before...

His mind failed to analyze why the other Spy was so reluctant to enjoy his kiss, when Lukas' body gave clearly its consent. It was confusing, but tempting, too. He didn't need to look at the blonde Spy to know he watched them. He felt the blue eyes on his face and his body. There was no logical reason, but being observed like this added to his excitement. But that wasn't what Sydney had hoped for and he knew it.

“Sydney, what is the want you have?” he asked, ready to manipulate the situation and do what was needed to fulfill the Sniper's desires. The Sniper's lips rested on Error's collarbone as he smiled mischievously.

“Whatever Error wants,” Sydney replied at once. Error gave a rather human-like sigh, not even questioning why he did so. It was because he knew that this was what was called 'to be teased'. A weird concept, but challenging.

He liked it, to be teased, by Sydney. He glanced at Lukas. The blonde had been teased before, but didn't seem to enjoy it. His red met the other Spy's blue eyes for a brief moment, but Lukas turned away. It was enough.

Lukas needed the same thing – the same person – like he did, but for some reason, he just watched. Error focused on Sydney, moving close enough so his bare chest moved over the Sniper's skin as he stretched a bit.

“Want you to feeling good. And I want the you to make Lukas feeling good.” With his arms around Sydney's neck, Error pulled him close for a moment. From the way how Sydney welcomed the little action Error could tell that the Sniper enjoyed the friction from his groin moving against his own.

“I can doing much to feeling you good...” he promised. The Sniper growled some incoherent words that didn't bear any clear meaning, but Error sensed that Sydney approved of his answer.

“Bet you can, darling, and I'm dying to find out how good,” the man finally answered. “And I'll do as you wish in return,” Sydney added with a grin, and reached out for Lukas' arm. “Guess ya still can't change your spots, right, dear? Come...” He smiled encouragingly at the tensed up Spy and dragged him along as he took a few steps backwards, towards the couch.

“Sydney...” Lukas groaned in a faint protest when the Sniper let himself fall onto the sofa, pulling the blonde Spy down with him.

“Yes, that's me, handsome,” the other man laughed, one hand already busily trying to get rid of Lukas' sweater while he seized the Spy's hair and kissed him. In between, he gave Error a quick sign to join before he let his fingers wander over Lukas' muscles again until they relaxed.

Those two humans together, kissing and caring, looked beautiful. A sudden sadness rose in Error, knowing he could never have that. Finding each other, loving each other, growing old and one day, leaving. While he had to say good bye and stay behind to watch others coming and leaving. He would befriend them, love them but never really be one of them... These thoughts were older than those two men.

Suddenly, he smiled. He could be with two humans now, and they didn't mind to be with him, so not feeling happy was irrational.

Lukas was still tensed, but happier, he saw it in the blonde Spy's face. Error stopped worrying. Not averting his eyes from the two men's features, he knelt down next to Sydney. After opening the belt he quickly unbuttoned the Sniper's pants and shoved them down. The underwear didn't hide the man's arousal; the outlines of his hard cock clearly visible through the tight piece of clothing.

Error briefly touched it and immediately, the Sniper shifted into a position to give him better access. Assured by this reaction, Error drew his hand away. He let his tongue ran over the fabric, tracing the shape of the secluded dick.

Above him, the Sniper groaned, but Sydney didn't stop kissing the other Spy. He tried, with one hand, to open Lukas' belt as well while his other hand was still buried in the man's hair, as if he didn't want to risk that Lukas' insecurity got the better of him again. But the blonde, however, didn't seem like he would try to get away again any time soon.

Satisfied with this result, Error focused on Sydney, ready to fulfill his part of the command. He peeled the underpants down, revealing the full, hard length. Now without any fabric in between, his tongue glided over the smooth skin. Increasing warmth. Firmness. Tensing muscles in the thighs and abdomen. A hissed breath. Yes, Sydney's whole body indicated clearly how much he enjoyed the wet touches. Error paid close attention to the Sniper's body language, to re-affirm that he was doing it right and, if necessary, to do better. But also because observing this man was exciting for him, adding to his own desire and wish to feel.

Sydney leaned back and the corners of his mouth hinted at a content smile when his dick disappeared halfway in Error's mouth. Warm and wet, not different from any human he had been with before. The Spy was carefully and slowly finding out what Sydney liked By repeating a movement of the tongue, or using a bit more of his teeth, Error was succeeding before the Sniper realized in his mind how good it was.

No need for directions or questions. Error was reading him and his body. And certainly not failing. Error... he was the kind of a perfect lover who received pleasure by giving pleasure, there was no doubt about that.

'Perfection... comes in many forms...'the Sniper thought by himself. He had pulled Lukas close enough to gain a firm grip of the slim hips. His own fingers twitched when Error's teeth brushed over the glans, feeling the anticipation of pain that didn't come, and even that was soothed away at once by a slow lick of the tongue, followed by gently sucking lips. Short fingernails scratched playfully over the soft skin of his testicles, adding to the whole delightful sensations.

Hissing, then sighing, Sydney focused again on Lukas, a part of him glad for having this tempting, blonde and blue-eyed distraction from his groin. A good, skilled mouth was welcome; one that was too good even more. However, loosing himself too soon would not only be a pity in this situation – finishing already, with two handsome men by his side... he had to keep up a reputation after all.

'Similar, yet different...' Sydney mused for a second as he watched Lukas' face - the blonde's glowing cheeks were indeed similar to Error's. But the latter openly observed, while Lukas' blue eyes wandered nervously from the wall behind them to Sydney's face. Then to Error's - how the Sniper's hard dick left the man's mouth, the skin slightly wet, and long fingers now wrapped around the shaft, stroking, a thumb pressed against the tip.

Feeling Error's fingers and tongue, feeling how the pressure rose up to an almost painful point and seeing Lukas' face was almost too much. Lukas watched them, with an expression of arousal and guilty pleasure. Beautiful how plainly on the good-looking face. What a shame the young Spy always hid his features behind that scarf. Well, enough hiding today.

Sydney looked up at him, wistfully avoiding his eyes – he wouldn't risk making Lukas feel the least bit uncomfortable after the insecure Spy had been coaxed into this little adventure thus far. As expected, Lukas abruptly turned his head when the Sniper moved his hand over the bulge forming under the striped trousers. Taking advantage of his assistant's speechlessness, Sydney massaged the hard-on, and was rewarded with a low moan.

With a satisfied smile, the Sniper's fingers continued rubbing over the still covered erection, felt carefully along the shaft, the glans. What he heard and felt was both very promising. Really, a very nice voice. With this voice, face and body there was nothing Lukas needed to be shy about. If only he'd realize this... On the other hand, having him exclusively without any other person around ever suspecting what could be revealed behind mask and cover was a sweet, delicious secret. Sharing with Error didn't spoil it, it only added to the thrill.

Curiosity decided it was about time to have a taste of the young man; he was looking forward to seeing the reaction Lukas would display. If he remained shy and kept blushing. Or if Sydney was able to make Lukas let himself go. But when he began to unbutton the Spy's pants, a cold hand stopped him.

'I so desperately want you... I can't stand having you now, just like this,'Lukas wished he could explain. Even if it had made sense in his own mind, his lips were sealed anyway. All his brain allowed him to do was to slowly shake his head when he felt Sydney's questioning gaze on his face.

“Wanna stop?” The soft, attentive tone of the question stung, and he shook his head again. His boss wanted this and enjoyed everything happening as much as Error. And, in a way, as much as Lukas himself. That was why he hadn't been able to look away, despite the nagging jealousy he loathed so much. No matter how much a part of him wanted to be in the place of the robot, he also liked what he saw.

Again, he caught himself staring. Error stopped sucking at the Sniper's dick when he realized he was being watched and how the mood threatened to shift. Almost reluctantly Lukas answered the encouraging smile, but he swallowed hard, when a white hand reached for his wrist and tried to pull him down. He could have spared himself glancing at Sydney - of course he already nodded his delighted consent. Good, if that's what his boss wanted, he didn't mind so much. Giving was not so difficult. Receiving the attention, even if the thought alone gave him a shiver, was a completely different matter altogether.

Kneeling down next to Error, between his boss' spread legs, he mirrored the other Spy's previous actions. He shivered again as now his tongue licked along the shaft – but with more firmness, adding a little bit of extra pressure when he glided over the corona. Satisfied with the long sigh from Sydney, he continued trailing over the sensitive organ with the tip of the tongue.

With one hand lying on the Sniper's bare stomach, he could feel the muscles move under the skin as they contracted and relaxed. If asked, Lukas would have denied it - if he had been able to say anything at all – but while at it, he knew what he was doing and that he was good at it.

Slowly, he relaxed, focusing on his task, not even minding anymore when Error joined him. A part of him finally accepted Error for what he was – a robot, but loving and attentive, even to him. Not here to ridicule Lukas, but to gently pulling him along, giving him the feeling to be wanted as well. And without Error, he would never have had the chance to be this close to Sydney, showing him that he was good for something.

For a second, the blonde wondered how the Sniper could bear this so long, having two men running their tongues over his dick from two sides.

A hardly understandable, guttural curse told him that his boss was enjoying it. As Lukas felt the dark blue eyes resting on his face, he could guess that the Sniper was also enjoying the show as well. Good, as long as Lukas didn't look up, he would be alright. However, he closed his own eyes, just to be on the safe side, and relied on his sense of touch. Accidentally, his tongue brushed against Error's once or twice and he was surprised that it didn't scare or disturb him.

Here he was, on his knees in front of Sydney, licking his boss' hard cock, and sharing it with Error, a robot. Weird as it seemed, it felt alright. Thrilling. He didn't even shy back when his fingers moved over the tensed skin of the Sniper's scrotum and met the other Spy's fingertips.

Feeling how his face turned redder when he tried to imagine what Sydney saw right now, he focused his attention quickly on his tongue again. And Error's. By now, Lukas wasn't so sure anymore if the touches really were a pure coincidence, given how often it happened, and how long the other man tried to make the touch last.

Before Lukas could decide if he wanted to risk a glance at Error's face, a gentle hand seized him by the back of his head. He hadn't completely been pulled away from Sydney when the other Spy's lips were already pressed against his, and an eager tongue was invading his mouth. Tasting Sydney on Error's lips and smelling both men drove him crazy. As unlikely as it was for him, Lukas gave willingly into the kiss.

It lasted a moment and made him completely forget the uncalled for little grudge he had felt towards Error. This man was skilled, probably more than him, and passionate, but also tender and careful not to make Lukas uncomfortable. He could sense that. During this short moment of intimacy Lukas realized he wanted to like the other Spy, even if it hurt to share Sydney's attention with him.

Another touch interrupted them.

Sydney bent forward and caressed his assistant's cheek. Unintentionally, Lukas opened his eyes and looked to the side at once when he met the Sniper's intense stare.

“Dear, that's one hot, gifted mouth ya have.”

As if to stress his words, Sydney's thumb moved over Lukas' slightly parted lips. “Ya mind repaying Error with it, in my place? If you don't mind, too, of course?” he addressed the second Spy, who nodded. As if Error would ever say 'no' to one of Sydney's whims. Hell, Lukas was the same - if all this didn't please his boss so much, Lukas would have never agreed to even kiss a stranger to begin with.

But, this wasn't only about Sydney anymore. Error was astounding. Lukas still couldn't ignore the fact that the other man was a robot, built to massacre humans on the battlefield. Yet this machine knew how to handle him; he helped him to relax, with a soft voice and small, gentle and reassuring touches. Slowly, Error had guided him into this, from the very first kiss on. He also seemed to touch Sydney the way he liked it, while finding enjoyment for pleasuring alone, without being touched himself.

The idea of a perfect lover should scare Lukas, but somehow, it was quite the opposite. Lukas found himself trusting Error's gentleness, and without worrying about being pushed or rejected, he couldn't deny he was curious to see and learn more about his fascinating rival.

At Lukas' nod, Error stood up, and allowed Lukas to help to open his pants.

Still on his knees, the blonde couldn't resist staring at the white organ for a moment. Everything looked so real; if it weren't for the unusual skin color, he would never assume that Error wasn't human. Every detail, even veins filled with blood – or whatever circulated through them – looked absolutely natural. And beautiful.

Embarrassed, he told himself that he wasn't a boy anymore who was seeing a full grown and erected cock for the first time. Lukas hesitatingly wrapped his hand around it. Yes, it wasn't different at all. A bit smoother, perhaps.

He moved closer, until the head was touching his lips, and opened his mouth. A bit more than half of the length he was able to swallow when Error stopped pushing before it became uncomfortable. 'Probably sensing it,' Lukas thought, by now certain that the Spy paid close attention to every reaction. Again, Sydney was only a watcher, while Lukas began to suck the length filling his mouth, making good use of his tongue.

With a hint of glee he only rarely felt he wondered if his boss maybe even needed a moment to cool down. Shy, timid, insecure and whatever the others called him, Lukas knew enough about a dick to notice when a man was close.

Error still had a bit of leeway, but Lukas didn't mind. Licking and sucking the other Spy felt delightful, like a human male, yet a bit different... unique. Even if Error didn't growl in a way Sydney did - his hissed sighs spoke undoubtedly of enjoyment.

“Hey, darlings, don't forget about me,” an excited Sydney interrupted them.

The Sniper waited for Lukas to stop and lean back, releasing Error. Grinning, he leaned forward and placed his hands on the standing Spy's hips. He pulled him onto his lap and enjoyed the lean back against his chest. Both men shivered when Sydney's dick was pressed against Error's backside.

Lukas' wasn't sure what to do with his hands – if he should move over to the two men, focus on Sydney, or on Error... He watched how the Sniper's legs opened, spreading Error's legs wide apart, offering an unhindered view of the heavily blushing Spy's exposed lower region.

His arms held firmly by Sydney's hands, Error's range of motion was limited - a sight that didn't leave Lukas cold.

He left his kneeling position and placed himself between the opened legs, reaching out to touch the other Spy, but, as so often, hesitated. Error didn't look directly at his face, but he felt the red eyes resting on him. The feeling paralyzed him. He wanted to touch the other man while his own body seemed to be bound by invisible chains. At this point, this was not only unsettling, but even more arousing. He lifted his gaze from Error's pale throat and looked at Sydney, realizing that the Sniper was observing him closely.

“Ya haven't really touched him yet, have ya?”

Invitingly, he let go of one of Error's arms and let his hand glide over the Spy's shoulder, then his chest, until he stopped at the man's waist.

“Come, try. You'll be surprised.”

Following his boss's lead was easier than following his own impulses. Slowly, Lukas' fingers wandered over Error's collarbone. For moment, he wrapped them around the Spy's pale throat and his thumb pressed gently against the soft skin of the larynx. He heard Error breathing, saw his chest heaving. An imitation of life. If Error were human, just a little bit more pressure, right here... quickly applied... fast and clean... would end the problem...

His hand twitched back. What was he thinking?! Certainly not...?

Neither Error nor Sydney seemed to have noticed his temporary lapse of reason. 'It was just for a second after all,' he calmed himself, pushing the dark thought away. He also guiltily refused to acknowledged to himself that it hadn't affected his excitement. On the contrary - Lukas believed, if Sydney would try to strip down his pants again, he wouldn't reject him this time.

Being unaware of it, his hand had began to run over the robot's smooth chest, only realizing it himself when Error shivered under his fingertips as they glided over the slightly rougher, firm skin of the nipples.

“Didn't I tell ya?” Sydney grinned, and Lukas nodded.

Not one single hair covered the pale body, but the softness was still different. Not that of a battle-tested man. Or anything he had expected from a machine.

“Beautiful, eh?” the Sniper continued. “Almost like a woman.”

Lukas nodded again, although he thought more of a very young man rather than any woman. But yes, very beautiful, to the eyes and hands.

Still feeling guilty because of his earlier thought, he bent down, his hand still caressing Error. He kissed him, trying to be as gentle as the robot was before with him. His free hand reached for the man's dick, colliding with Sydney's fingers.

The Sniper smiled encouragingly once Lukas showed initiative and not only kissed Error, but also readily paid attention to the man's erection. Nice development, very nice. He shifted his position a bit under the weight of the other man, making it easier for him to reach around the man's waist. Feeling his way down the Spy's groin, he went deeper.

At once, as if sensing his intention, Error adjusted his pose and shoved his lower body forward, just enough for Sydney to move past his scrotum. The Sniper couldn't resist stroking over the soft sac, and for a few seconds, Lukas' fingers joined him. Error enjoyed the undivided attention from both men, as Sydney could tell from the way the Spy pressed his back closer against the Sniper, and his lower body against their hands. It added to his own pleasure to see him so responsive to their touches.

“Lukas, dear, do me a favor.”

At the instruction of only few words Lukas left Error to the care of Sydney, who only to happily continued slowly, almost lazily, stroking the robot's hard shaft. He glanced briefly at Lukas, who was the only one still fully dressed. Although the clothes were a bit too wide, Sydney could easily make out the slim build of the man's body. The Spy's movements were light and quick, although his hands seemed a bit shaky when they searched Sydney's desk. Not from his usual nervousness, at least not alone. The excitement was clearly visible in Lukas' face, and the Sniper wished he could look him in the eyes. Of course he knew about his assistant's aversion for eye-contact, and respected it. However, he would love do more than to look at him directly.

He was curious how Lukas would react if he were in Error's position; he wanted to know how his body would tense up, and his groans sound.

But if Lukas didn't even allow him to help him out of his pants, Sydney had to accept that.

This was already a very delightful situation, so no reason why they shouldn't make the best of it.

The Spy had returned and was already squeezing some of the content from the small tube in Sydney's palm. Hand lotion. Convenient that Lukas knew the particular order of things in and on his boss' desk as well as Sydney himself.

The Sniper's long, now slick fingers took hold of Lukas' hand, covering it equally.

“Thanks, Lukas.”

“You must not to doing that.” Error sighed when one slim finger pressed against his entrance, slowly but firmly finding its way inside.

“I can adjusting, no preparing needing. You can doing fuck me directly.” The back of his head now almost completely rested on the Sniper's shoulder.

“And denying myself the treat to hear my favorite Error talking dirty?” Sydney chuckled. “Need or not, ya seem to enjoy it, right?” A second finger followed easily.

Being built to please, he really didn't need stretching. His engineer had even taken rough handling into account, so he wouldn't feel any pain even without any preparation at all. Error could feel the pressure though, and everything else a human could.

“Yes...” he obediently answered the question, hissing the words through his teeth. If Sydney wanted him to receive pleasure, too, it was a command he didn't mind following at all.

“Sydney, I...” he began, but was cut off short by Lukas.

The other Spy's hand was already stroking along Error's length again, the sensation much more delicate with the lotion covering the skin. Before Error could finish his sentence, Lukas' lips were on his and the tongue was pushed into his mouth, surprisingly vigorously, lacking the usual hesitance. A dominating kiss, coming from Lukas, was something Error would never have calculated on, given his observations of the human Spy. That was what he loved about humans – a part of them was always unpredictable.

He swallowed his own words, giving up the idea to speak and did instead as he was told – enjoying the feeling of two fingers widening his hole.

Error gasped in the other man's mouth when a third one joined – this time, not from Sydney, but from Lukas. He wanted to look at the blonde, to see what thoughts were written on the man's face.

However, even if most humans he knew usually closed their eyes when kissing, he didn't want to risk meeting Lukas' eyes, sensing that this would destroy the bit of courage he had gained all of a sudden. This man was not always easy to understand, not as easy as Error had assumed at first.

Thinking became more and more difficult for him, with his whole body shivering around the fingers inside of him and his mouth silenced by an almost hard kiss.

He was programmed to mimic humans in many aspects - not being able to keep unlimited control over his own arousal was one of them. So he squirmed, welcoming the touches, while trying to escape them at the same time, fearing he wouldn't be able to last as long as necessary. It was a mistake, as with every shifting of his hips he thrust his dick in Lukas' hand, that still was wrapped around it.

“Go easy on him, dear,” he heard Sydney's voice advising Lukas.

At once, the kiss stopped, and the hand let go of his dick, making Error wish he would simply ignore the Sniper and continue. Another shiver ran through his body when the fingers were pulled out, leaving him with a raw want for more.

Sydney placed his hands on Error's waist, but before the Sniper could give him a push, Error sensed what he was supposed to do. His legs still apart and resting on Sydney's, he lifted his hips; his hands were clinging to Lukas' shoulders for support.

Given the way he had been constructed, and being loosened up by both Sydney and Lukas, entering him should have been easy at that point.

However, Sydney refused to simply thrust in. Instead, he took it slow, pushing his hard dick into Error's body inch by inch.

When the last, thicker part of the hard cock stretched him more, and finally disappeared in him, the Spy's low moan mixed with the Sniper's long-drawn-out growl. Error wrapped his arms around Lukas, feeling the other Spy shiver while the blonde buried his face in the crook of the robot's neck.

With carefully controlled speed, the Sniper pulled out and pushed in again. Repeatedly. The hands on his hips held Error steady, hindering him from moving on his own, so there was nothing he could do to increase the slow-paced rhythm.

Lukas, meanwhile, freed himself from the embrace and shoved Error away and closer into Sydney's arms. The full, massive dick seemed to go in even deeper, pressing harder against Error's inner walls. For once, and for the first time in a while, Error dared to open his eyes, avoiding to look where he assumed the other Spy's face to be. The glance was enough to see Lukas' unreadable expression. The eyes shining even brighter in contrast to the red cheeks. For a moment, Error thought he sensed resentment, but as he dropped his gaze and let it rest on the young, still fully clothed Spy's groin, he stopped worrying.

The fabric of the trousers clearly tightened over the man's hard-on, a sight making Error wondering why Lukas refused to be touched by either of them. When he was so obviously aroused, only from watching and giving, why fight it?

The thought vanished from his mind when Sydney pushed in with a sudden long, hard thrust.

Then, the movement stopped altogether.

“Are ya in a hurry?”

For a short moment, Error struggled against the firm grip, but held still when Sydney more panted than spoke to him. “No,” he answered dutifully.

“But you want to be fucked – harder?”

The anticipation in the Sniper's hoarse voice told Error how much this man was enjoying just hearing an answer from him. Practically, a simple confirmation, no physical act, no direct stimulation of sensitive nerves. Illogical as it was, listening to the almost breathless, deep voice whispering in his ear, Error understood – felt – the arousing effect of seemingly unnecessary words.

“Yes.”

He shuddered when his reply was answered by a low growl, expecting Sydney to finally continue moving. However, the Sniper didn't.

“What do ya Lukas want to do with you?” Sydney asked instead.

The blonde inhaled sharply, and Error tensed up. He didn't want to cause the other Spy any uncomfortableness by his own, selfish wishes. But he couldn't refuse answering.

“I... doesn't... what he is want...” He twitched when the Sniper bit his throat. It couldn't hurt him, but he recognized it as a punishing reaction.

“More of this?” Slightly, Sydney thrust his hips inward; his dick only moving for an inch inside of the Spy. This time, a groan was the answer.

“Okay, then tell him what ya want him to do, darling.” Sydney, to Error's relief, didn't sound annoyed or impatient. He even seemed to enjoy this little game more than a straight answer.

Error didn't even have to try to avoid looking at Lukas' eyes - this time, he himself felt too shy and embarrassed himself.

“More suck... please...” His face grew hotter than before while he watched how the other Spy went down on his knees between his legs.

“Good boy,” Sydney praised, but Error wasn't sure who of the two Spies he meant. He considered asking, but didn't care when Lukas' wet tongue glided over his dick, while he was still sitting motionless on Sydney's lap, filled up with the Sniper's steady, hard cock.

Seeing his boss' face when the Sniper entered Error and fucked him, just like this, hurt.

Yet, it turned Lukas on, to hear Sydney's low voice, and to see Error's needy, hungry face.

He couldn't help wondering how much of his own need and arousal he didn't dare to show was mirrored in Error's pale, delicate face.

Watching how the man he wanted was moving into his rival... it was painful, yes, but also thrilling. Error, how he shivered and panted, almost helpless with his lust when Sydney stopped, was a hypnotizing sight. So when the other Spy asked him – begged him – to suck him, Lukas moved calmly, like under a spell. Error's dick in his mouth felt as hard as his own erection in his pants.

A few times, when his tongue went over the sensitive head, he thought that Error wouldn't be able to hold back any longer, but even when Sydney began thrusting again, the robot kept control. Lukas wasn't sure if he could have done that, if he were in the same position, but then again, what did he know about robots and their sexual features?

Switching positions with Error... having Sydney move inside... even without the other Spy present the very idea made him nervous. The lower region of his body thought differently however.

By now, neither touching himself nor having one of the men helping him with his own dick would soon become unbearably painful.

Alright, he had to admit it - he had changed his mind. Refusing Sydney because it had felt like exposing himself had been stupid. Of course he had, as always, made the wrong decision, and now it was too late.

Yet, he was still accepted to be here. They hadn't sent him away because he was boring, so, why not trying to make the best of the situation?

He sucked harder on the long shaft, swallowing the cock as deep as he possibly could, and added some pressure with his teeth. Maybe enough to be painful for a human, but he had already understood that Error wasn't able to feel pain. His efforts were rewarded with a moan, and a hand on his neck urged him to continue.

A sudden, tingling sensation on his tongue and lips, followed by a long, half hissed, half groaned sound from Sydney, made him stop abruptly.

“Gawd, what was that?” he heard Sydney pant, surprise and delight in his voice. Lukas stared openly at Error's face in his bewilderment.

“I'm... I'm apologize...” the other Spy answered, bashful, but still caught up in his excitement.

“Rarely... when good, a lot, then statics... malfunction... happens... hurt you?”

Lukas felt for his lips. Only a small tingle remained and vanished within seconds, nothing painful.

“Hurt? Nah, not at all, that was amazing.” Sydney. Of course he was thrilled, even by unexpected electrical impulses.

“Can you control it?” the Sniper added curiously, but Error shook his head.

“No, very weak, very random, only when...”

“Only when ya really turned on, eh?”

Lukas couldn't see his boss' expression, but that didn't matter - he knew that Sydney was grinning while he finished Error's sentence.

Error nodded, and as sudden as they had stopped, Sydney almost forcefully continued to thrust.

“Let's see if we can control it if ya can't.”

Error cried out at the now increased speed of the dick being pushed into his ass. His fingers clawed into Lukas' hair and the blonde took this as the signal to focus on the Spy's erection again; first skeptical, but soon as intense as before. Error didn't lie – so when he had said it was harmless, then it was harmless. Regardless, Lukas wasn't as excited about the new revelation of Error's features as Sydney. That aside, in spite of himself he enjoyed sucking the robot's cock; not only was Error very responsive – which was rewarding - Lukas also liked the taste. The first few drops on his tongue were neither of the salty nor bitter taste he had experienced so far. If he had to swallow he wouldn't mind.

Yet, as usual, whenever Lukas finally came to terms with a fact or situation, Sydney had another plan in mind.

“Ya said you are... adjustable..., right?”

Although the Sniper whispered, the blonde clearly understood him.

“Let's see if both of us can take ya, at once. If these... statics happen again, Lukas can feel them, too.”

The blonde Spy let go of Error's dick, staring at the man's face. He saw the lips move but didn't hear the answer – didn't need to, he knew it anyway.

At first, he was about to protest. No way he could do that! Having sex with a stranger - as a faint, but still existing voice in him insisted - at the same time with Sydney...

His own dick ached in his pants as his gaze wandered over Error's shaking body and rested on the flushed face, with the parted lips, the half-closed eyes...

Maybe there was a way.

Quickly, he looked around and searched for his scarf. Once found, he stood up and slowly bent over Error's face. He kissed him lightly, buying a few, precious moments of time, before he finally could bring up enough courage. Holding the scarf in both hands, he laid it over the other Spy's eyes.

“Can I...?”

Error nodded, only for a second looking directly at the blue eyes above him before he closed his red ones. For Lukas an uncomfortable second, but enough to see that the man trusted him.

With a fluid, knowing motion, he wrapped the scarf once around Error's head and fixed it with a knot. He took a step back, looking at the quickly breathing, now blindfolded Spy.

Over Error's shoulder, Sydney grinned and nodded approvingly at Lukas. With his hands under Error's legs, the Sniper carefully leaned back against the wall. Ignoring Sydney's face as much as possible, Lukas now paid close attention to the man in front of him.

The look in his eyes had changed the moment he knew Error could not be staring back at him anymore.

A hint of a grin appeared on the blonde's face and he moved closer, until his lips slightly touched Error's ear.

“You can't get enough. Isn't that so? You are that needy.”

His voice was still low, but unusually steady and calm.

“Help me with this,” Lukas whispered, grabbing Error by his wrists and leading the Spy's hands to the waistband of his trousers.

For the second time, Lukas kissed him roughly, while Error removed the belt. His fingers moved surely, even though he couldn't see. Within a few seconds, his pants were pushed down.

“Well done. No, don't touch me!”

In a quick, short moment of raising panic, he seized the hands again and shoved them away when they clasped around his hardened, aching cock. “Please...” he added quickly, to soften his harsh words. Not that he wouldn't have loved feeling the warm fingers; he, too, was close to his limits. But Sydney expected him to do more than just standing here, enjoying a hand-job.

That, and the fear of giving up the last bit of distance... Error's eyes might have been covered, but Lukas still couldn't explain his reaction to him, so he didn't even try.

This time, he was more his gentle self when he nipped on Error's lip. His own fingers brushed over the Spy's hard-on, and, having his own free now, he couldn't resist to bring both their dicks together. Both of them groaned, Error at the unexpected sensation, Lukas at finally feeling the close contact of another man's skin against his erection.

Stroking, though, was already too much – at the touch, his body wanted to let go of the tension.

To control himself, Lukas forcefully bit in Error's shoulder, not even surprised anymore how it wasn't any different from biting a human. He could even feel the faint, salty and metallic taste of a blood-like substance when his teeth dug too deep into the artificial skin.

Error hissed through his teeth, but Lukas wasn't sure if it was because of the friction between their erections or because of the sudden bite.

“Hurry... please.”

Whatever the reason was, Error apparently didn't mind at all. As intended before, Lukas' hand went deeper. Carefully, but without hesitance, he felt for the Spy's entrance, not completely accidentally letting his finger slide along the root of Sydney's shaft. The growl coming from the Sniper told him his touch was appreciated.

However, he didn't even have to fully push a finger inside – the tightness easily yielded with a bit of pressure.

So, if he couldn't hurt Error anyway...

Lukas placed his own cock over the Sniper's, directly at the hole, and slowly pushed...

“Gawd!” Sydney's growl was drowned out by Error's long, deep moan when the Spy was further stretched, to a point that still didn't cause pain, but pressure, to an almost alarming level.

Lukas bit on his tongue, fighting not to cry out.

Neither of the men was of small build, Sydney's dick alone had filled Error very well.

Tight.

It was painfully tight being caught between Error's only slowly stretching walls and the hard cock of his boss. But it felt good, more so as he pushed deeper. He was only half in when he paused, panting. Struggling to control himself, he waited for a moment, for Error's body to adjust. It was too early to thrust, no matter how much he simply wanted to let go at this point and fuck him.

“Do it!” Error gasped into his ear, as if he was reading his mind. “Please, it is well! Can't hurting me, just...”

Lukas lifted his head – the scarf was still in place, keeping him safe from the Spy's eyes.

He chuckled.

“If you beg so nicely.” His words couldn't conceal his own lust, but for once, Lukas didn't care if the others noticed. With a long, hard thrust he finally pushed in completely. A delicious pain rushed from his cock to his groin, from there through his whole body. Just the kind of good pain he could find himself to love in rare moments like this.

“Fuck, Lukas!”

Sydney's tensed voice, when it normally would have caused him to nervously try to get away, added to the thrill this time.

Slowly, he pulled back, fully aware how he was gliding along Sydney's dick, caught together in another man's body. With every full thrust, he felt how Error widened more around them, until pulling out and pushing in became easier. Between them, Error squirmed and shivered, and the Spy's hot, throbbing cock was pressed against Lukas' firm stomach.

How did it happen that he was in control now, Lukas wondered, but he didn't question it any further. Not now. Not when he wanted to let go, of the tension, his lust.

His aggression.

It was not easy to move, to thrust as it would have been him alone. Didn't matter. The shuddering body pressed against him was amazing, as was everything about Error. Even his ass, that so easily could take in two cocks was amazing.

Lukas pushed harder, urged on by the the outcries of the mechanical Spy.

“Lukas...” Sydney's voice.

Fucking, and hearing him say his name. He pressed his face against Error's hot cheek, partly burying it in the soft hair, feeling the fabric of his own scarf. The Sniper's head was close to his; he could hear him - feel him - pant.

“Lukas, look at me...”

No.

He hated to deny him one of his wishes, but no, not now, especially not now. But like driven by a force that wasn't his to control, Lukas opened his eyes, looking over Error's shoulder.

Only a quick, short glance at dark, dazed eyes. It was more than he wanted to see.

But it would probably be the only chance he would ever have to see Sydney like this – hot, flinching with lust, the forehead covered in sweat.

Calling his name.

And, feeling the Sniper's dick sliding along his own, while they both thrust into a synchronized rhythm into Error... Lukas knew, he would never again have Sydney so close to him. Amazing, arousing, and bitterly cruel.

“Mig något att göra för att... jag älskar och jag hatar dig...” He wasn't aware of speaking at all, especially not of using his native tongue. Increasing the speed of his movements, he drew another groan from the Sniper who was too lost to listen.

The fingertips of one of Error's hands ran and clawed frantically over Lukas' back; the Spy could feel how they would leave red marks. The robot's free hand reached for the blonde's head, feeling for his face, the jawline, the scar...

Lukas shoved the hand away, and pressed his lips on Error's, cutting the shivering man's groans short with a desperate and hungry kiss, finding comfort when the eager, accepting tongue met his. He squeezed his own fingers between their bodies, easily finding what he was searching for.

Firmly, despite being hindered by the lack of space, he stroked Error's length, one finger rubbing over the wet, sensitive head, while his hips were still thrusting without slowing down his pace.

It was all Error could take.

Short fingernails left small, bloody marks on Lukas' back, and in short intervals a warm, vicious liquid covered the blonde's Spy's stroking hand and both of their abdomen's.

But Lukas missed the long, deep, almost agonized final moan.

At the very moment of Error's release, he felt another rush of the weak statics emitting from the robot's lower body.

The weak, tingling impulses ran through the sensitive nerves of his hard cock, shooting up to his spine and directly into his brain. They weren't painful, but strong enough to blind him from the world for few seconds, and to make him forget about control.

The last, strong push was final, and as another faint impuls seemed to flow right between his and Sydney's erection, he could only let go.

His balls were painfully hard. From the still lasting electric tingling the muscles in his groin contracted, forced him to thrust even deeper, every movement causing more of the unbearable need.

Then, it was over. Trying not to cry out, he bit into Error's shoulder, leaving a second bite mark. He not only felt the abrupt pulsating of his own dick, but also Sydney's as well. With a loud, almost feral last growl, the Sniper joined him.

Error's arms wrapped around his shoulders and embraced by him, Lukas listened to the slowly calming down breaths from the Sniper.

His knees were shaking and his whole body, now that the tension was gone, gradually went limp. Soon he would have to pull out, to give up the warmth and the closeness. He would return to his nervous, distant self, probably never being able to look straightly at Sydney or Error for the rest of his life. Not after this. Not now, he didn't want to regret what happened now. Still panting, he accepted Error's kiss, not sure to whom the hand lazily running through his hair belonged.

***

The Spies walked away from the headquarters together in silence after Sydney had been called by Jean, who insisted that the matter at hand couldn't wait.

Most of Sydney's sweet, cheerful words went unheard by Lukas while the young Spy had quickly pulled up his pants and put on his mask. When Sydney had given him a last hearty hug – the same he gave Error right afterwards – the blonde had already hidden his face behind the layers of his scarf.

They had left once Error was done with adjusting his hair and clothes, making every evidence of the last hour disappear, except for a persisting blush. Following Sydney's order – or rather suggestion – Lukas had agreed to see Error off in the Sniper's place, accompanying him until they reached the limits of the grounds of the base.

“Uh... from here... you know the way, right, I guess?”

He was what the appropriate gesture to say goodbye would be to a man he had just fucked together with his boss. Although he had hardly known him before.

So Lukas simply stared into the distance, roughly into the direction where he assumed Error's base to be.

“Lukas...” The other Spy hesitated a moment, then he put a hand on Lukas' shoulder.

“I understand the Sweden, and... I'm sorry, I hurting you, I don't to want to.”

The worried voice surprised him as much as the message.

“What are you talking about?” For the first time since they had broken the last kiss between them, after he had come into this man, Lukas raised his head and looked at him in confusion.

“You do no remembering? While we...earlier...”

So, Error was even human enough that the last series of events embarrassed him as well, Lukas realized with an odd sense satisfaction when the other Spy searched for words with a blushed face. Inwardly, he froze when he heard the rest of Error's explanation.

“You saying 'for doing this to me, I hate and I love you.'... I'm being sorry, Lukas. Don't do wanting you be sad, wanting be your...”

“Forget about it,” the Spy hissed sharply.

“Don't ever mention that again, to me or anyone! You are a robot, delete it! I'm sorry, I...” Immediately, he regretted his harsh words. He was unfair, the mess he was... all this wasn't Error's fault. The other Spy didn't even see a rival in him, while his own behavior towards Error was disgraceful and shabby.

“I'm sorry, Error, I didn't mean to... I just don't want to talk about it, please...”

“Talk about what?” Error asked. At the friendly, mildly curious voice, Lukas raised his eyebrows.

“What do you... you really deleted it?” Suddenly, he began to understand. Did this mean... “You can delete it, just like that, because I say so?” Error nodded.

“I only accepting command from few people. Two is you and Sydney. I liking and trust.”

The shy Spy blushed, feeling more guilty than before, for his hostile jealousy. He had not only made up his mind to like Error – it was simply not possible to not like somebody with such a caring, gentle nature, who gave affection so openly and unconditionally. But even fully aware of this, he couldn't completely get rid of this damned, nagging jealousy.

“I envy you...” he sighed. His body was still exhausted and oddly satisfied. But this would fade soon, and the old desire would rekindle, maybe even stronger than before. As for his mind... even when his body forgot, from now on his memory would always remind him how it felt to have Sydney so close to him, if only for a short time... and how he had to share.

“If I ask you to delete what happened today, would you do that? Forever?”

He avoided the questioning look by staring down, at the dirt between his feet. The sudden hint of sadness in Error's eyes hurt.

“Yes. Temporarily and forever. You want?”

Lukas nodded, now feeling sick. He was betraying two friends that trusted him.

“Delete everything that happened since you woke up in our base. Temporarily,” he quickly added when he saw how the features in the other man's face altered.

The command was promptly executed.

The silent, relaxed happiness disappeared, along with the hints of trust and friendship. Lukas hadn't even noticed them to be there until they were gone. He began to doubt if he really had gained anything from his order. If the price wasn't too high for the already vanishing illusion of making today undone by having the memory only for himself. And Sydney...

However, it probably was for the better, and what was done, was done.

But what now?