Aksinya and Sergey walked slowly toward the main entrance of the barracks. A light wind was blowing, tossing a few snowflakes and blurring the steam that crept viscously through the sewer lids to the street. From his savings, Sergey had bought her new clothes and taken her to the hairdresser. The blonde bob she wore now gave her a fresh look and no doubt suited her exquisitely. Together with the blue scarf she had wrapped around her neck and mouth, the long, thick, dark gray dress that kept out the cold, she didn't have much in common with her old self. Hopefully, it would be enough to make her invisible to the Eternal Wolves for the time being. How long the effect would last was anyone's guess. Aksinya kept looking at him from the side as they walked side by side. He had become quiet in the past few hours, his head hanging slightly. His long, pitch-black hair, almost reaching his belt, hung in his face. They had spent a few wonderful days together. For Aksinya, they had been the best in a long, long time. He had finally told her in detail why he wanted to visit his brother, why he had really started the journey. In the end, it was probably just an irrational feeling that had driven him to the city. She could understand him, understand his need for absolute certainty. She knew what it was like to lose one's family. Even if she was sure that his heart would only be broken a second time after the letter. Slightly restless, she rubbed her fingers to warm them and chewed on a peppermint candy, trying to distract herself from the recurring craving for drugs. Over the past few years, she had become addicted to the narcotic and sleep-inducing Miracle Dust, as the pink powder was colloquially known. Without it, she would not have been able to get through life. The current withdrawal was not as destructive as that of heroin or other powerful drugs, the effects more comparable to a severe nicotine addiction. She tried with all her might to pull herself together, to get her thoughts in order. Then the voice of one of the gatekeepers pulled her out of her thoughts.

"What do you want?" the soldier asked them in a neutral tone.

"My name is Sergey Gromov, and this is my fiancée, Mrs. Aksinya Tsvetkov," Sergey began, using both of their real names. There was no point in lying about their names. At the very latest, a lie would have been discovered immediately during an identity check, which the guard actually did immediately. "I'm here because I wanted to inquire about my brother, Lieutenant Artyom Gromov..." Sergey continued, taking back their documents.

"Do you have an appointment?" the guard asked routinely.

"No... it's just... I'd like to see him. It's important, something about our family..." Sergey replied. Until the last moment he didn't know what to say as the reason for his visit. In the inside pocket of his jacket there was an official letter saying that his brother had died at the front. He made no mention of it, of course. The guard went to a shelter near the gate where a telephone was mounted on the wall next to a table with a thermos of hot tea. He dialed a number and asked for his brother in short sentences. Then he returned to them with a somber expression on his face.

"Someone will be here shortly to pick you up at the gate," he turned to Sergey. Aksinya looked at Sergey questioningly after they had stood a little apart to wait.

"At least it's better than if they had sent us home right away?" Sergey whispered to her, forcing a smile. She nodded and pursed her lips. A little later, the gate opened and a senior officer came to fetch them, a hanging file under his arm. He led them to a secluded private office. Once they were all seated, the officer, who was obviously of captain's rank, began an explanation after a brief pause.

"Mr. Gromov, I regret to inform you that your brother was killed in action a month ago. He died a hero's death during an offensive, for our city union, for our movement, for our party, and for our nation. Your brother made the most supreme sacrifice that a soldier can make. You should have received a report on this long ago, but it has obviously not reached you yet. As it is, I offer you my sincere condolences." Sergey heard the strangely unemotional words and remained silent. After all, it was what he had expected. Wasn't it? He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped short. Something was wrong, didn't fit. The captain wore a black uniform, quite different from the other uniforms in the barracks. Thanks to his brother, he was also somewhat familiar with the usual insignia. However, the symbols this soldier wore on his uniform were stylized differently. On the place on his chest where his battalion number should have been, there was only one word embroidered in silver letters: *Prizraki*, ... *Ghosts? Next to it was a symbol of two crossed swords under a bear's head. Sergey's eyes wandered to the file on the table. It was obviously his brother's personnel file, that much he could read at a glance. He remembered some things his brother had explained to him during his last visit. Files of fallen soldiers were usually marked with a special stamp on the outside, and after being declared killed in action, they were sealed and taken to a central archive. He guessed that such a central archive had to be located in the capital of Utopia and not here, in a satellite city. And why had they been picked up by a captain for such a conversation? His brother was a lieutenant, but his family did not have a high social status. As a marginal peasant, he was not worth much more to the Party than the people in the slums. Why did a captain of all people take time for such a meeting, when he must have had more important things to do? Sergey questioned everything, including this situation. Not least about himself. Was he just imagining things because he didn't want to admit that his brother was dead? Was he just an idiot who didn't want to see reality because it caused him too much pain? The captain noticed his hesitation.

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"Such news is not easy to process, take your time. For security reasons, I must ask you to leave now. I will have someone escort you to the exit in a moment," the captain explained, still in a very neutral, unemotional tone.

"Thank you for your time, captain," Sergey replied. "My fiancé and I will find the exit, please don't bother your people," Sergey replied dejectedly. The captain nodded, opened the office door and saw them off. As they left the office building and stepped out into the open, they saw three large personnel carriers drive through the gate. Each carried at least 50 troops. The couple paused briefly to watch as the vans stopped and the soldiers, in full battle dress and heavily armed, rose from their benches and jumped out the back in an orderly fashion. Aksinya took Sergey's hand and squeezed it gently.

"We have to go..." she said quietly as a fourth van suddenly drove into the courtyard. It was painted black with darkened windows, and on the driver's door was a symbol of two crossed swords and a bear's head. Sergey paused, then gripped Aksinya's hand tighter and walked briskly with her around the corner of the building. When he was sure that no one was watching them, he took cover with her behind some stacks of crates.

"What's going on? What are you doing?" she hissed in surprise.

"I just want to see what that van is," he explained, pointing in the direction of the black car. That strange feeling that something was wrong was stronger than ever. Just these few minutes, then he would leave and never come back, no more questions, accepting everything as it was. He would go back to his aunt who needed him, go home.

"If they catch us here now, hiding behind storage boxes..." she murmured nervously to him in a suppressed voice.

"I know, just one minute and we'll be out of here. I promise," he whispered back. The black van opened, the two rear doors swinging open from the inside. First, two soldiers in black uniforms got out, machine guns at the ready. Then a man in a white coat and sunglasses got out and shouted some orders into the van, but Sergey could not understand them from his position. Then the van shook a little and a tall man in a black uniform got out. He was a good two meters tall, had an extremely strong build, a precisely cut side parting, and pitch-black hair. He moved a little slower than the other men, a little mechanically. Sergey's heart stopped at the sight. He stood up, unable to believe what he saw. Aksinya broke into a sweat when she realized that Sergey had suddenly come out of hiding. She had to do something, and fast! Sergey started walking towards the man as if in a trance. She also came out of cover, stepped quickly and grabbed his left hand again.

"Honey, we have to go out this way," she said loudly, grinning sheepishly and pointing to the main entrance. "I know this was horrible news for you. Let's just go home and talk about it there," she added.

"Yes," Sergey replied hesitantly, his mind racing, reluctantly agreeing with her change of course. Could it really be true? Aksinya pulled him towards the gate, away from the transporter. Whatever was going on here, they could not attract the attention of these men. At that moment it happened. The tall man, whom Sergey had recognized from behind as his brother Artyom, turned to face them. It was him, no doubt. But something was wrong with him. He seemed to be wearing a latex mask, modeled after his own face. For a second, Sergey looked into Artyom's eyes, which moved strangely and jerkily as they followed him as he passed. These eyes seemed lifeless, dead, like those of a doll. The proportions of the body as a whole didn't seem to fit either, they were thicker, bigger. Those dead eyes paused for a barely perceptible moment. Only the slightest hint of distant memory seemed to pass through this thing, this monstrosity that was his brother. A tiny spark of the past, through this clumsy structure covered in a skin of rubber. In the end, it was Aksinya's hand that saved Sergey, that pulled him through the gate and out of the barracks. She noticed that he was trembling, but she did not stop and continued to trudge until they were out of sight of the barracks. Then she stopped in front of him, took his cheek in both hands and looked at him, trying to pull him out of this nightmarish state.

"Did you see that man?" he asked her, his face still white with shock.

"Yes. He was awfully scary, wasn't he? Somehow artificial," she replied.

"It was Artyom, I'm sure. But he didn't recognize me," Sergey explained, despair in his voice.

"He looked like a corpse, a rubber corpse," Aksinya whispered.

"And yet it was him, there's no doubt about it," Sergey insisted. She thought for a moment and then asked:

"What are you going to do now? You can't really do anything about it, can you? They insist that your brother was killed in action and this thing doesn't seem to know you?"

"I don't know," he replied with a slight shrug. "But I have to find out the truth somehow, or I won't get any peace." Slightly nervous, she looked around. No one had followed or watched them.

"If you want, I'll help you. I have no idea how, but maybe together we can find a solution that won't land you in a military prison," she finally said, her lips parting slightly. He took a deep breath and smiled. Thank God she was with him. He nodded slowly at her.

"Thank you," he said quietly.