The light was as bright as ever as it led him on a merry chase. Once again they played the game of cat and mouse. Once the light was within almost within his grasp it would disappear, appearing in the distance. Taunting and teasing him.

Wake up.

It led him east, back to Chicago, through the plains of Illinois and suburbs surrounding the city.

Michael.

Through streets where people gathered even, burning homes and taking things that weren't theirs.

It's time to wake up.

Over the barricades erected to stop approaching charge of a crowd.

Michael, you idiot.

Over the coast, where people were arming themselves with whatever they could find.

Wake up.

Over Lake Michigan's dark waters, carrying rows of fishing boats.

Ah, whatever.

When it finally stopped leading him by his nose, he found himself standing at the shores of an unfamiliar land. The air felt different here, as if they had crossed some invisible barrier. Michael approached the light, burning brighter with every step he took. Reaching his hand out to it, the visage of the shores burning itself into his mind.

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He woke up with a scream. He forced himself to leave his eyes uncovered, knowing the phantom pain for what it was, but the reflex was still there. Breathing hard, he wondered at the dark he has found himself in, his surroundings illuminated only by a faint light of a candle.

Startled he noticed that he was undressed, and sitting in a bed to boot. Thankfully he was covered by furs and hides, keeping him warm. Several of his wounds were bandaged with cloth and smelled strongly of herbs, covered with some kind of paste or cream.

Someone must have found him after he collapsed. Taken care of him. He breathed a sigh of relief. Live was cheap now, Michael knew that better than anyone, so whoever saved him must have had selfless reasons.

Get up.

He really didn't feel like standing up, a few more minutes of rest couldn't hurt. He laid back down, pulling the covers up to his chin.

Alright then idiot, at least come inside, there's something serious we need to talk about.

A chill ran down Michael's spine. Andrei never wanted to talk, especially not seriously. But perhaps it was better not to antagonize him. Closing his eyes, Michael dove into the safety of his bunker.

There was only a single change in the safety of his mind, yet that change churned Michael's insides. On the wall opposite his own stats was another board, showing off stats he was very familiar with, Andrei's.

"I though you would like how I decorated the place," came a smug voice from the locker.

"What did you do?" asked Michael. He refused to panic. Panic was a way to get lead into a trap, Andrei was good at traps. So was Michael.

"Check your little paper punchers first, then we can talk like adults." The monster in his skin was goading him, but he preferred to lead any conversation with as much information as he could.

He approached the small tools, one carrying a zero, as he expected, the attribute puncher has gained nothing. He had no clue how a person gained attributes, perhaps it had something to do with obelisks, after all he received three when he touched the first one, as did Andrei, assuming they started with the same sum of base value.

The other puncher was a surprise, number two carved into its handle. At first he thought that it was connected to killing. That theory was somewhat disproved after Bernie's death, when he received nothing, thankfully. Now, that another soul has perished by Michael's, no Andrei's hands, he received two of them. That seemed to further disprove that it was directly connected to killing, but what were they for?

"Why do we have two skill points?" Perhaps his prisoner could shed some light on this.

"I don't know Michael, think, you started calling them skill points yourself, they might just have something to do with displays of skill," scornfully retorted Andrei.

Despite his mocking tone, Michael had to agree that it seemed like a possible solution. He would need to collect more information to confirm it. Should Andrei be right then he could focus on developing a way to best take advantage of it.

"It seems rather obvious to me, but then again, it was my display of skill that earned them," Andrei snidely remarked.

"Which brings me to the thing I wanted to discuss with you. Take a look at your Volition."

Michael did, he already half knew what to expect written there. One. He looked over to Andrei's board. A point has been added to his Endurance stat.

"How are the points you get from Price Paid in Sanity thingy distributed?" he asked. Andrei had no reason to tell him, and Michael had no reason to believe him, but perhaps something could be gleaned from how he lied about it.

"So that's how it called for you." Andrei smirked, but his mood turned sour as soon as he continued. "Randomly, I don't get to affect that." The distaste was audible.

But there was a reason why Andrei was bringing the whole thing up. He must have figured out what power Volition held at the same time Michael did. That was not good.

"Where are you going with this?" He would never admit to his weakness, maybe Andrei was simply fishing for information, in the same way Michael did.

Andrei smirked. "Surely you realize what that means, we are even as far as power over this body's mind is considered."

He wasn't wrong per see, the only difference between them now was that Andrei was currently locked up, but should Michael release him again, he wouldn't be able to retake control, and even if he was, he would start losing it soon enough as Andrei would increase his own Volition by the same amount Michael could.

If they both put all of their points into Volition, they would be perpetually even, as long as Michael didn't release Andrei. He was safe, at a price of having to put all his points into Psyche and Volition.

Andrei must not have lied about being unable to affect the distribution of points he received, otherwise his Volition would already be higher than Michael could reach, even spending the points he held in his hands.

"Now, I think you came to the same conclusion I did, I don't want my potential by playing 'Who can stack this stat higher?' and neither should you."

Michael wasn't listening, Andrei was full of shit, just another trap to make him lower his guard, to make him spend points in a way that would make him vulnerable to future manipulation.

His grip tightened on the skill hole puncher. Turning around, he made his way over to his board of stats.

"What are you doing?! Are you stupid?" exclaimed Andrei.

His bewilderment was the only pleasure Michael took in his actions. Without hesitation, he grabbed the page relevant to Volition, punching two holes in it.

"I try being reasonable and you run and immediately ruin it, why am I surprised?" rhetorically asked Andrei.

Michael turned back to the cage. "I am not playing any games either, especially not with you."

Andrei laughed. "I am hurt, Michael, truly. But I already know what will make me feel better."

Dread spread inside Michael, there must be a reason why his dark self was so jovial. Has he been manipulated, doing exactly what Andrei wanted him to?

Michael patiently waited but nothing was happening, Andrei was silent and no changes appeared on his board. So Michael waited some more, nothing. He tried speaking to Andrei, but no response came back, he tried peering through the peepholes of the cabinet but all he could see was darkness.

Well, there was no way he could force Andrei to do anything. Taking one last look around, he made sure there was nothing that he missed. Closing his eyes momentarily, he found himself back in the dim room, hidden beneath layers of warm furs.

And just in time, as the door opened and in stepped a little girl, no more than ten years old. She took one look at him and ran away, leaving the door hanging open. Great, he scared a child and was left with open door, cold leaking in.

He briefly considered getting up and running away, but then realized he probably wouldn't survive outside for very long, naked as he was. Besides, it was probably better not to run out naked if there were kids around.

He prepared his cover story, the girl was likely already getting whoever was responsible for him, it would be better not to get caught by surprise by any questions.

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He could hear people talking before the entrance to the hut. Unable to make out anything in particular, he settled to wait until the conversation ended. When silence reigned clear Michael readied himself, preparing his distressed face, and turned towards the door.

The door opened and he was met with the sight of a stunning middle-aged blonde woman with shoulder-length hair. Her hair cascaded down in gentle waves, framing her face perfectly. She moved with a grace that was both confident and effortless. Michael couldn't help but be captivated by the subtle beauty of her features, from the slight curve of her smile to the gentle arch of her eyebrows. The woman exuded an air of sophistication and elegance that made Michael feel both intrigued and at ease. As she drew closer, Michael felt his heart skip a beat, his eyes never leaving her as she moved gracefully around the room.

Take her.

Shut up. He could hear the psychopath in him laughing, drawn out. There was blood rushing to Michael's face, and other places, thankfully he was covered by a heavy amount of furs that covered things better not shown in polite company.

Stopping before him, she gave him a small, regal smile, extending her hand. "Hi, I am Leslie, or Doctor Leslie, whichever you prefer."

For a second Michael froze, his entire plan and story forgotten. Then he quickly extended his hand, grasping Leslie's hand, shaking it carefully. "M-my name's Michael," cursing himself for stammering, Michael wished the stone granted time travel powers.

Smooth.

"Well met Michael. How are you feeling?" She found a chair, brought it over and took a seat. The young girl opened another door he hadn't noticed before, disappearing into another room.

Remembering his plan from earlier, he schooled his face into a sad mask. "Better now, but I can't stop thinking a-about what h-happened."

Women don't like weak men Michael.

Shut up.

Her shoulders sagged, face morphing into the very picture of compassion. Angels must have crafted that face. He ignored Andrei's laughter.

"I am very sorry about what happened. Some of our neighbors found you just outside the village and they brought you here, since you were in a pretty bad shape." She talked slowly and quietly, as if trying not to spook him.

She wants us.

"I-I thank you, I don't know what I would do if you didn't help me," Michael sniffled, raising his hand to wipe at nonexistent tears. "Ugh, I am sorry, I already troubled you too much, now I am bawling my eyes out."

Tell her you want her.

She raised both of her delicate arms. "Oh, no, no, no, shush, it's no problem," she said hurriedly. "Are you hungry? Care to join us for dinner? We don't have much since this all went down but we have enough for one patient."

Tell her the only thing you want to eat is her.

"I am s-sorry, but I couldn't burden you like that, I should get dressed and go," he said through Andrei's giggling.

She laughed, the sound holding musical qualities, like an orchestra of happiness. "Well, I have to insist, especially because your clothes are still drying from getting washed," she retorted, amused.

It's been so long since I ate naked in front of a woman like her.

Michael choked on his spit, coughing rapidly. Gentle hands were immediately on his back, comforting him, the beautiful creature they belonged to asking whether he was alright.

"I-I am o-okay," he responded, this time not the stutter was real.

"Are you sure?" She brought her face close to his, worried eyes looking for signs of illness.

Grab her neck and kiss her. She wants it.

He nodded, not trusting his words. She leaned back, a slight frown on her face. Even frowning she was probably the most beautiful thing he has ever witnessed.

Shrugging her shoulders, a teasing smile returned. "Alright then, get some rest and call if you need anything. I better get to preparing dinner, my husband will be back with some fish soon," she said as she made her way towards the door. Disappointment filled Michael at the mention of her husband.

We could kill him. She will never know it was us.

"I hope you like fish." She called back as she disappeared into the same door as the little girl did.

Oh, I love fish.