Michael found Bernie not far off from the place where he has originally confronted the pair of cops. He was sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree for support. The wound at his side was bandaged by a part of his torn shirt, yet Michael could see blood staining the cloth, slowly seeping through.

One of his hands was pressing on the aforementioned injury, slowing the bleeding. He almost approached the man before he noticed an axe in his tightly clutched in his other hand hand. That stopped him cold. The man still had enough energy to collect his weapon from wherever it landed after he almost decapitated Michael with it. He was still incredibly dangerous.

Michael would need his hands for this, thankfully he has made it a point to set his both his fingers and the thumb back into place he went looking for. Without the proper education he has made mistakes at first, mistakes that hurt, a lot. But eventually all of the fingers moved as they should, despite being rather swollen.

Taking his time and observing the situation from multiple angles, always making sure he stayed in cover, using tree to break the line of sight. The ex-cop seemed to have somewhat stabilized, the wound no longer bleeding out.

That meant he needed a plan beyond waiting and hoping.

There must have been a reason why the man hasn't already sought out medical attention from the other pair. And it was probably the same reason why he didn't give chase, letting his partner chase Michael on his own. He couldn't move.

An idea came to his mind, a simple yet horrific idea. But it was the only safe way to handle this situation.

If his colleagues came to rescue him, he could lead them to him, assuming they found his tracks. Considering the entire trail of traps he just ran through was covered in them, it was only a matter of time until they hounded him down. They would catch up while he slept if nothing else.

He could have tried talking to him, but that would lead nowhere. Bernie didn't strike him as someone that would let him get away after he killed his partner, much less letting him interrogate him for information. There was nothing to be gained by trying to talk to the man.

The thought of the axe whizzing past his head only reinforced the idea that this was the only way to resolve this.

Looking around the patch of woods they were in, Michael located a perfect spot. He circled around the man, running from cover to cover, never letting his eyes off of his target. He was almost certain the man was already aware of him as his perception was much higher than Michael's.

Reaching the tree he has selected, Michael took cover and examined the situation better from here. He had a clear line of sigh on Bernie, while the man would have to awkwardly twist, putting a strain on his stomach if he wanted to throw his axe at him. The tree was also decently thick, providing sufficient cover.

The only missing piece was the ammunition.

----------------------------------------

Michael bent over, picking up a fist sized rock. He took a deep breath and popped from his cover, throwing the stone as hard as he could. Bernie, who looked completely unresponsive until now, immediately lifted his arms, covering his vulnerable body.

"Argh! Motherfucker!"

He reached for another rock, another fist sized lump of pain. flew through the air, slamming into Bernie's arms.

"Come out fucker!"

Grabbing another rock, this one larger than the previous, he launched it as he could.

"Ahhh! Come out shitter! Don't be a pussy!"

A hand has closed around a rock, it aimed and threw.

"Come here and fight me like a man!"

Another stone was picked up. It sailed through the air, as stones do.

"Stop hiding! Come out so I can send you where you belong!"

This one was smaller, but it flew all the faster.

"I know pieces of shit you!"

Another stone found its way to the guard.

"Is this the best you can do?!"

Another one.

"You think yourself so smart!"

And another.

"I know you killed Carl, I will chop your head off!"

Michael almost stopped, a name now assigned to the body of a man with broken neck. A hand grabbed a piece of stone. The stone slapped against the man's arms.

"Fucker! Come out so I can split your head in half!"

Another rock cracked into the man beneath the tree.

"You are a murderer!"

Stoning, or lapidation, was a method of capital punishment where a group threw stones at a person until the subject died from blunt trauma.

"The others are already on their way!"

It was used as a form of punishment for grave misdeeds.

"I hope you burn in hell!"

Several modern countries still considered the practice legal.

"Argh! You are a sick psychopath!"

Curiously enough the last recorded case of stoning happened in the US. The perpetrator pled guilty and was charged with twenty to forty years in prison.

"When the others catch you, they will skin you alive!"

It actually happened not far away from here, in Philadelphia.

"I hope your fucking mother burns in the hell with you!"

Did you know that Britain has invaded, had some control over or fought conflicts in 171 of the world's 193 countries. That was almost ninety percent.

"Ahhhh! You will pay for this!"

Did you know that a group of flamingos is called flamboyance?

"Fucking monster!"

----------------------------------------

Michael had yet to move from the his spot. It's been almost two hours since Bernie finally succumbed to his wounds. It took two hundred and eighty four stones. He counted.

Another wave of nausea hit him, and he threw up, or tried to. At first only bile came out, he hadn't eaten for almost a whole day now, so that was no surprise. But soon enough all he could do was dry heave, his body trying to remove sickness that wasn't physical.

Michael.

At hundred seventy three Bernie could no longer hold his hands up, the muscles too torn and bruised, the bones too broken. Yet Michael kept throwing the stones. He couldn't take a chance that he was trying to draw him out. After all he was still gripping the axe.

Get.

Why wouldn't he throw it?

Up.

It was the only thing Michael wanted from him.

Michael.

If he threw the axe away, it could have been so much easier.

Get.

He could have avoided so much suffering.

Michael.

Why would he keep holding it?

Get.

Why did he make him continue?

Up.

He didn't force him.

Michael.

Why couldn't he just throw it away?!

Michael.

But he was right on one thing.

Michael.

He was a mons...

Andrei.

Michael's eyes shifting, reflexively looking for the source of the voice. He knew he wouldn't see him. It was his voice after all.

Get.

"Up. And no."

Michael.

"Fuck you."

Get.

"No."

Up.

"Go fuck yourself."

Michael.

"Andrei."

The voice went silent and Michael took a measure of satisfaction in making it shut up. Despite that, a shiver ran through his body. He has not heard that name in a while, it was his name after all. His real name, the one given to him by his parents. The one he abandoned.

It was the name of a murderer. The name of a monster. But so was Michael now.

Michael.

He rolled his eyes. "I am too exhausted for this."

Get.

Breathing a sigh of frustration, Michael looked over himself. His shirt was stained with bile. He hadn't bothered to move when he started retching. He didn't want to move ever again at that moment.

Up.

"Shut up already."

Get.

Huffing in annoyance, Michael used his hands to prop himself up, his abused right shoulder screaming at him, pain blossoming in his mind.

Up.

He didn't let the pain stop him, rising to his feet, only for another wave of nausea to hit him like a truck. He bent over, heaving out whatever air there was in his stomach. He didn't bother to complain, he deserved much worse.

When it was finally over he set out towards Bernie. It was time to confront the consequences of his actions.

----------------------------------------

Bernie was most definitely dead. His feet were crooked and deformed, the rest of his legs battered and bruised, purple and red spread all the way to his hip bone. Possibly the only bone not broken his body.

His stomach looked like a mess of fallen autumn leaves. Above it was a caved in chest, most of the ribs broken, muscles and organs inside battered.

His fingers were bent at odd angles, mangled beyond comprehension. Even now, after death, his left hand clutched his axe. As well as it could with four broken fingers.

His arms were much worse than his legs. Michael imagined they must have been fractured at every point from the wrist to the shoulder, but the only proof of that was one bent elbow.

The bruises continued up the neck towards Bernie's face. Oh, the face. His jaw was hanging at a weird angle and Michael could spy several small white teeth on the ground, not far from the body. His nose, once crooked, was now completely shattered. Had it been the only injury it would have made his face look flat, but his right cheekbone was caved in, as was his brow ridge.

But the worst were the eyes, filled with agony, hopelessness and desperation. They spoke of the words Bernie's mouth couldn't before he died. He was too proud to plead with Michael, too proud to be for his life, admit his suffering. Instead he bore through it, dying horribly before admitting weakness before his enemy in hope of a quick end.

----------------------------------------

Michael's throat hurt from all the retching, but that didn't stop his body from seizing up and trying anyways. It took well over five minutes before he could move again. He was avoiding looking at Bernie the whole time, and he wasn't about to change that.

Bending down, he felt around with his hand until it closed on something hard and cold. Pulling the axe from Bernie's grip proved harder than he expected, and for a moment a sliver of fear ran through him. Fear that Bernie was still alive and all this was a ruse to draw him out, to take his life. But no, Bernie's grip was simply his body's after death muscles spasms.

He stood up and quickly turned away. He wanted to be as far away from this place as possible.

----------------------------------------

Michael found a small alcove in the forest, he settled there, using the natural shelter it provided to rest. He intended to sleep here through the night. It was risky, but he had no reason to believe the remaining two guards could track him down.

He needed the rest, there was no way he could keep going as he was. No way to make his way out of here. Especially not if those two men were empowered.

Which reminded him that there was a theory he needed to test. Closing his eyes he entered his the war bunker in his head. It was same as before, but Michael didn't expect any obvious surprises.

Marching over to the skill hole puncher, he examined the numeral written on its handle. Zero. He released a breath of relief he didn't know he was holding. That meant that killing was not directly correlated to the amount of skill points one received. Or, at the very least it meant that the returns were diminishing. While that would probably not stop someone from going on a killing spree, it meant that he wouldn't just snowball into absolute power, with no one being able to catch up. Small saving grace, but Michael took it.

Returning the hole puncher where he found it, he still had one more thing to deal with while here. He turned his attention towards the locked cabinet.

"You are awfully quiet, considering who you are," he said. He still wasn't certain the cabinet contained what he thought, or rather who he thought.

"I speak when I need to," the voice was muffled, as if actually coming through the small gaps in the metal. But it was also unmistakably Michael's own voice.

Another of his theories was thus confirmed, although he would have preferred to be wrong.

"How come you are... here?" he had no clue what this thing actually was. It only appeared after he spoke to the white man. Did he give it its form?

The voice snarled. "You say that as if I don't belong in here. This is my mind, my body."

Was its appearance related to the white man? It must have been, and the white man was related to the obelisks. He wanted him to go looking for more of them. Said it was the only way to get answers.

"Are you surprised I claim what I was born with?" The almost whisper like question brought Michael out of his musings.

"No," he wasn't surprised at all, yet. "What surprises me is that you can do it like this."

"You unmuffled me when you stopped taking the poison that abomination prescribed you. After you touched the black obelisk a direct bridge between this place and you was built." He was whispering the words, as if revealing some arcane secrets he wasn't supposed to know. "I no longer need to lurk in your subconsciousness."

"Why are you telling me this?" Michael asked. Why would his greatest adversary ever share any knowledge with him?

"Because there's nothing you can do about it." The satisfaction was evident in his voice.

The man was wrong, this changed nothing. No matter whether he was sending nightmares or whispering in his ear. Michael would not let him win.

He grasped the key, anticipation building in the air, before he pulled it out, throwing it across the room. It landed in the opposite corner, as far away from the cabinet as it possibly could be here.

"Wow, I am so impressed Michael. An empty gesture of an empty man." He could hear Andrei's glee.

"Shut up."

"Oh no, you wanted me to speak just a moment ago, remember?" His past's delight was palpable in the air. "There's no way to shut me up now."

Anger boiled within Michael, not at Andrei, at himself, about how incapable he was of controlling his mind. Helpless at the hands of his nemesis.

There was no reasoning with his past, he has learned that long ago. So without a second thought, he closed his eyes and left his mind behind.

Just like that he was back at his small alcove. He needed to focus on how he was going to get something to eat tomorrow. Human body could technically go without food for a very long time, usually around three weeks, but he would prefer to preserve some of his energy. His body would need fuel to repair itself, and to keep him warm.

He would also need to figure out how to get past the two guards at the entrance. But first, most import of all, was sleep.

Two down, two to go.