FSE

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He was wet. He really couldn't determine why, but he was. Cold too. Vasily pushed himself up, blinking groggily in the dim morning light. His clothes... Were missing. That shocked him almost as much as where he was- on the bank of a river, one arm dangling in the water. What river? He didn't know. Getting up, he realized that he felt fantastic- better than he'd felt in a long, long time. All the little aches and pains he'd gathered over his life seemed gone, or at least mostly so. The bite on his shoulder and the clawmarks across his chest were still there, red welts glaring against his pale skin.

That was a little disturbing. What the hell happened last night?

Nobody seemed around. His watch was gone, but given the light and coolness it had to be not long after dawn. Good luck, because it meant few witnesses for the towering naked bald man striding about. He took as much care as he could to remain out of sight, until he spotted a phone kiosk with a newspaper dispenser near it. Time for a risk.

He got coins (not gently) from the dispenser, then dialed the one person who might help him. He listened to the ringing- once, twice, three... Finally on the eighth ring the receiver was picked up, his possible savior yawning loudly. "Who the fuck is this?"

"Pavel. It's Vasily. I need a ride."

There was silence on the other end. "... Do you have any idea what time it is, big guy?"

"No. That's the problem. I blacked out last night. I'm in a park..." He looked at the nearby sign, "Serebryanyi Bor park."

Pavel sighed. "Christ, if it were anyone else I'd hang up right now. But you, you'd probably kill me." He sighed. "Why can't you call a cab?"

"... Because I'm naked." Vasily replied.

After Pavel finally stopped laughing, he agreed to collect Vasily and get him home. Vasily found a spot where he could watch the street with relative concealment, and waited. He just couldn't figure out how he'd gotten here, but he knew he wasn't going to like it.

Pavel's Citreon pulled up, and Vasily ran the intervening space, diving into the back as fast as he could; luck was with him, once again no witnesses. Sitting up, he saw Pavel trying not to laugh as well as the dash clock- six-forty-eight in the morning. "It is not nearly so funny as all that, Pavel."

His rescuer chuckled. "Yes, yes it is. Villany Polykov, bare-ass naked is not something you see every day!" The car pulled out and Pavel started weaving their way back to Vasily's apartment building. "So how did you end up here?"

"I told you; I don't remember. I must have been drinking..." Vasily said, but he knew that he hadn't. "I've never blacked out before. I've been knocked out, but I didn't walk around then, much less naked." He stared out the window, trying to remember with little luck.

Pavel glanced back at his passenger at a stoplight. "So the story's true- you DID get mauled by a dog. Goddamn BIG dog, too, from the looks of it." He shook his head. "Got rabies? Naah. You probably had that as a baby."

"Fuck you, Pavel," Vasily said with little heat. "I got the shots. Three right into the stomach."

"Well, at least you won't be frothing at the mouth and howling at the moon, right?" Pavel snorted a laugh. "Well, it could've been worse. You could have woke up in the middle of Gorky, or in Red Square. Say... How the hell are you gonna get into your place?"

Vasily had been thinking about that. "Window's open. I'll go up the fire escape. It's only second floor."

Pavel said, "I'd never leave mine open. Someone'd take everything the second I wasn't there."

"I don't have anything to take. And besides... Reputation is worth something." Vasily shifted a bit on the cheap vinyl seats. "Pavel. I owe you one."

The car swerved a bit, Pavel having been startled by the pronouncement. "You.. Owe me one. You're serious?"

Vasily nodded, then realized Pavel was watching the road. "Yes."

Pavel said, "Well. I won't hold you to that. I've never heard of you 'owing' anything to anyone." He pulled the car into the alley behind Vasily's building. "The first or second escape?"

"This one. Stop here." Vasily opened the door as soon as the car was stopped, then made a little jump to reach the retracting ladder; it screeched in protest, little flakes of rust falling as it locked in place. "I will see you later, Pavel... Thank you."

The interior of the apartment was as Vasily recalled- a single tiny room comprising the kitchen, living room and bedroom, with a separate bath. However, torn shreds of clothing lay scattered in the center of the room. He picked up one of the pieces, seeing that it had been one of his shirts. Images played in his head, but still nothing made sense; torn clothing in his apartment and waking nude across the city in a park... Simply didn't come together.

He dressed, then sat down to think. Fatigue rolled through him with no warning and in moments he slumped into dreams. Running. Running in the dark, the moon giving brilliant light. Streetlights shine like beacons, but the night is singing in his mind. The urge to run, further-farther-faster drives him forward, all four limbs propelling him forward with a speed he'd never experienced before. Images flash past- a car, a building, a tree- none of them matter, only the running.

Vasily jerked awake. Hours had passed- the wall clock said two in the afternoon. He rubbed his head, feeling the stubble as the bizarre dream still echoed in his mind. He looked again at the shredded clothing... And remembered the attack.

Fighting Fydor Antonov. The man far too strong for a wasted, strung-out addict, the man's face and body distorting, clothes tearing...

"My god. What am I?" Vasily looked at his hands- Other than the nails needing a trim, they were his hands, scarred from years of fights. He didn't feel different, at least not at the moment.

Fydor would know. But finding him might be impossible. And facing that thing was not something Vasily wanted. He'd never been afraid before; but that, he feared. He had a word to describe what he saw, but something from movies and old stories was hard to connect to reality- did he really want to believe that he'd fought a werewolf, and now might be one?

Tonight, he'd know. But maybe making some preparations would be wise. He cleaned up, shaved and dressed, then dug out an old duffel, stuffing clothes into it. "Maybe, knowing what's coming I'll have more control," he thought. "Maybe."

Perhaps this time he'd remember.

The sun was sinking low when Vasily reached the warehouse where the attack had taken place. He knew that the only people that would be around would be bums and addicts; unreliable witnesses at best. Part of him thought nothing of the possibility of killing someone. But more and more he was disturbed by that, as well as what he'd done with his life. "Regardless, something in me has changed, folktale-monster or not," he muttered.

He found the scene of the fight- the stench of old rotted blood was incredibly strong. In truth, far too strong. Come to think of it, his senses seemed sharper overall. He could see far better in the dark than ever before. Or, it might all be his imagination from his bizarre wolf-fantasy. Did he really believe in werewolves, or had it been a dog attack in truth? He'd know at moonrise. He found the old office of the warehouse, and hung his duffel from a convenient nail. he cleared some of the detritus from the floor and sat, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants and feeling utterly stupid.

The boredom started to lull him, eyes starting to shut when he felt a rapid rush of pinpricks roll over his form. He snapped fully awake, heart pounding both in anticipation and fear. The tingling intensified, almost like a sand-bearing wind pattering particles against his skin- except that the wind and unseen-sand came from all quarters. Pain came next, muscles spasming and driving him to all-fours. He made a strangled, gargling yelp, feeling and suddenly seeing his face changing! The pain became agony, and a whine was driven from him as his eyes closed tight.

Ragged gasps, the pain rising to levels that he'd not experienced before as limbs shifted, lengthened- He clawed at the floor with altering fingers, feeling the rotted tiling tear beneath changing digits. He tried to speak, but only another whine of agony came from him, this time not human at all. He felt... He felt the agony lessening, his body falling to its side on the damp floor. He lay panting, his mind clear but utterly overwhelmed by the new sensations roiling through him. He was afraid to open his eyes.

He needed to open his eyes. Scents came to him, sounds. Both stronger and clearer than ever before. The dead-fish undertone of the river, the rot of the building, ancient diesel-stink, the decaying blood in the warehouse proper. Creaks and groans from the abandoned structure, the gurgle of the river's flow, distant vehicles rumbling their way along the roads. He sighed, the sound a low 'wuff' rather than any human vocalization, and he knew he had to look, to see what he'd become.

The room, to him was lit bright as evening. Little color washed the scene, and though he knew that his duffel was a particularly hideous red, it now appeared to be a muddy grey. He shook his head, freezing at the sensation of fur where he'd been shaved bald, and ears that moved to whatever sound drew them. He blinked and realized what else he'd been seeing- a muzzle and a black pad rather than his several-times-broken nose. He looked down, seeing white, white fur covering him, claws tipping fingers on hands gone huge and feral, legs like those of some nightmare-dog, claws marring the floor tiles. And a tail! That gave him pause as he wagged it experimentally.

"Well, fuck," he tried to say. 'Whurf' is more what came out. The absurdity of that set him laughing, huffing sounds that made him laugh even harder til his ribs ached and he panted for breath. When the fit finally ended, he shoved himself up. By where his duffel hung on the old nail, he realized he was huge. Terrifyingly so, in fact. Maybe two and a half meters at a guess and even more heavily muscled than his human form, as well. He flexed a hand, feeling the claws as they touched his palms. He grinned, a lupine gape of jaws before walking out of the office and into the warehouse-ruin proper.

He felt... Incredible. Powerful. But not out of control. Perhaps more in control than he'd ever been in his life. He tried running, loping a long loop through the interior of the building. The faster he went, the further he leaned forward until he was on all-fours, charging full tilt. Finally skidding to a stop, he stopped to listen- nobody at all was within, nor anyone close by. He did hear something else that set his heart going faster, and left the warehouse to follow it.

After his third rabbit kill, he licked his chops; this didn't seem 'normal', but it certainly didn't bother him. It felt somehow right to seek prey and kill it. He didn't play sick games with his target- a sudden bite, a swipe of a paw-ish hand to break a neck. The idea of the cruelties he'd committed before now sickened him. The moon was setting, something that he more felt than saw. He loped back to the warehouse, hoping he'd remember all of this, fearing that he'd have only fragments.

His change back felt the same, but less painful somehow. Could he be acclimating? He lay naked on the floor of the office, weary but exultant- he could remember! But... He couldn't tell anyone. Revealing such a thing would place him in a nuthouse, or some government lab. Neither were fates he wanted. He dressed, grinning at the sweats he'd apparently shredded without noticing. "At least this time I was ready!" He stretched, joints popping and made his way home.

---

His third night of the full moon was far less adventurous- he stayed in his apartment, just to see if he could. By dawn he was twitching and anxious, desperately wanting to run and hunt, but he proved to himself that he, not the wolf, was in control. Indeed, there seemed to only be 'him'- no mindless killer took his place. He glowered at that thought. "What if... I was the mindless killer before, and the wolf... Was the calm one? He sat on his bed, still tingling from the change, and blinked away tears. "Maybe... Fydor has blessed me instead of cursing, " he muttered. "I must find him."

Vasily knew that would be no small task. He was no sleuth, and Fydor would definitely run if he saw the bald giant coming for him, whether or not he knew what had taken place. Perhaps moreso if he thought Vas he'd become a wolf like him. Fortunately, there was an avenue to pursue there.

Did Fydor even know what he was? That was a question too. He seemed to, but what if he thought it was all from the drugs he used? Vasily knew that he shouldn't speculate like that- his only source of information on what he'd become was the emaciated heroin-addict. He'd told Igor that he'd try to hunt Fydor down; he would, but he'd never be able to tell Igor if he found him. He somewhat idolized the man, but he knew that werewolves were not something he'd want in Igor's control. Like himself, the Vory boss was a monster. But maybe now Vasily wasn't really a monster anymore.

"First things first," he mused. "To find Fydor, I need a trail to follow. But what kind of trail?" He considered. "Drugs, of course. Other users will see him." The people just has deeply ruined as he was would do anything for their next fix. A little money passed around, and someone would rat him out. Vasily felt guilty about that, but it wasn't like he was planning on hurting the poor bastard. He already had a list of places to visit as well, from his original search. Pavel might have some ideas as well, so Vasily dialed his number. Eight, nine rings. No answer. Glancing up at the time, Vasily realized that the little scammer was likely out plying his trade, aiming to bilk someone out of whatever extra cash they'd squirreled away. With luck Pavel hadn't started another of his grand, doomed schemes.

Days passed, and Vasily continued his duties as Igor's chief enforcer. When he could, he passed word to the local drug-abusers he encountered that there was a reward for information on Fydor. Igor noticed this, and questioned him about it one day.

"Vasily, whose rubles are being used in these bribes?" Igor sloshed vodka into his own and Vasily's glasses, not seeing or ignoring the big man's wince. "Drink, then answer." He tossed it down, and poured another while Vas took a longer time to swill his back.

"My money, Igor. I don't like to fail. I'll find him, and get the money too... And a little personal compensation." Vas made fists, knuckles popping loudly, and grinned. Several people edged back.

Igor laughed. "For that I could easily supply you, but what of the reward? Your money too?"

Vasily nodded. "I don't like losing. And I want to know if he knew anything about those damn dogs." His expression darkened.

"The police never found the animals," Igor commented. "Think he had friends with a pack?"

"I don't know. It was just... Too convenient. No matter. The little fuck will tell me. Or he won't be an issue anymore, to anyone." Vas accepted a refill, inwardly marveling on how much his employer drank.

"I will leave this to you, to solve your way." He waved Vasily off. "I may have something for you tomorrow. Come by about ten in the morning."

---

More than a month later, Vasily still had nothing. He'd dropped more than 25,000 rubles with no luck yet. For some reason Igor had him doing a lot more enforcer-work and almost no shakedowns; he liked that- he had no guilt beating the hell out of other criminals. He'd not had to kill anyone of late either. Pavel had reappeared, looking depressed; another of his lunatic dreams of financial glory had dropped him in the mud again. He'd recover; he always did. Vas hoped it was a bad enough loss to keep him to smaller dreams for a while. His little friend was a brilliant forger and con-man, but had a horrible tendency to overreach. It did mean that he could finally bracket Pavel for help.

"Leave me be, Vas. I feel like shit." Pavel drained half his beer, leaned far back in the booth they sat in. "Life sucks."

Vas tried not to grin. "It can't be that bad, can it? You're not beat half to death like last time." He dug into his meal as he waited on Pavel's answer.

"I dunno. I think I'd rather be a pile of bruises then being down... Nevermind." The rest of the beer vanished and he signaled for another. "It was perfect! I swear, there's something supernatural about my losses!"

Vasily sipped his bourbon. "Life is better than money. How much did you lose?" Pavel didn't answer, so when he started to take a pull of the just-delivered beer, Vas pushed his hand down with a glower. "How much?"

Pavel looked at his companion and paled. "Vas, your eyes..."

Vasily blinked. "What?"

"... Nothing. I... Fine. Uh, it was about 500,000 rubles."

Vas let Pavel's hand go and whistled. "Damn. Okay, yeah. Drink up. For that much, something to drink is the right response."

For a while there was silence, but Pavel kept looking furtively at Vasily's face. Vas frowned.

"What the hell are you looking for?" He asked.

Pavel, startled, said, "Nothing?"

"Bullshit." Vas snorted. "You went all pale there, like you thought I was going to kill you."

His companion sighed. "Fine. You won't believe me though. I thought your eyes had gone all icy-blue, with no whites. It looked like the eyes of a husky or something. When I looked again, nothing. I must have been seeing things."

A cold shiver went down Vasily's back. "...I was getting mad, then I calmed down right about then..." He whispered. Rubbing his head, he sighed. "It must have been nothing; you're stressed. I owe you, by the way. I could help you with the money; I never spend what I have."

Pavel choked on his beer. When he stopped coughing he gasped, "Fuck, I gave you a lift! That isn't worth that much!"

Vas raised an eyebrow. "True, but it DID keep me out of jail for indecent exposure. Fine. That, plus maybe you could help me with something I'm working on?"

Eyes narrowing, Pavel asked, "like what? I don't beat people up..."

"No. Nothing at all like that. If there is beating to be done, that'll be my job and not something you'll be part of. I need to find someone who doesn't want to be found. A heroin addict named Fydor Antonov." Vas looked at his friend expectantly.

"Whoo. You don't ask easy favors, that's for sure." Pavel looked at the nearly-empty beer bottle, then held it up to have another bought over. "What have you done so far?"

"I offered a reward, and spread some cash about amongst the junkies." Vasily frowned when Pavel giggled. "What?"

He grinned. "I think you're the only person on Earth who could do that without them cadging more cash from you with false leads. They come up with anything?"

"Nothing yet. I need to find him, Pavel." He didn't look up when he said this. "I can't say why."

Pavel leaned back, balancing the beer on his chest. "Is this for Igor?"

"No. Yes. It started out that way, but... Not anymore." Vas felt unreasonably vulnerable, and forced himself to look at Pavel again. "It's important."

"Huh. So I have you over a barrel? I don't think I've ever seen you looking so... Lost." Pavel fought back a grin. "Okay, I'll do it. Not for just the money, though. I need that, but I want something else too- When this is done, I want to know why this is so important."

Vasily glowered. "No, you really don't want to know."

"That's the condition. And I know you, big guy- if you give your word, hell or high water you keep it. So do you want my help, or not?"

"You have no idea what you're asking, and I'm pretty sure you'll regret it. As long as you promise to never, ever tell anyone what you learn." Vas finished his bourbon in one gulp. "God help me, you're insane to want to know. And I'm insane for agreeing, but I need the help."

Pavel just grinned.

---

Three more weeks. Pavel had promised, but three more weeks and another full moon had passed. Vasily was restless and keyed up, and was, just as Pavel had observed, feeling incredibly lost. He tried to call Pavel, but like when Pavel was in one of his schemes there was no answer. He hoped that he'd not just become another of Pavel's marks. But he'd not given the money yet, so that was unlikely. But not impossible. "Damn!" He slammed a fist down on his tiny table, smashing the tabletop in half. He felt... Caged. He hated it. He knew what he wanted, what he needed, but the full moon was once again weeks off.

But maybe... Fydor had changed at will. Could he do so too?

He had to know.

Once again he packed the red duffel. He'd finally replaced his car with an equally cheap-but-reliable hulk, and so drove with perhaps a touch greater speed than needed back to the warehouse. People had been here; not the police, but more vagrants. He spotted a furtive watcher dodging out of sight as he approached. Stepping in, he inhaled deeply through his nose. Unwashed human, urine and less attractive scents reached him, along with the odor of... Death. "Damn." He stepped in, seeing his lurker hiding in the shadows. It was a boy, he thought. "I will not hurt you," He started, but they just ran. "I'll have to go elsewhere." He wondered who had died as he turned to leave, then had a horrible thought. He almost ran, following his nose deeper into the warehouse to a pile of trash and boxes.

On the far side of the pile, there was a body. It was bloated, dead maybe a week or more... And not Pavel. He'd seen death before; that didn't bother him. Before, the idea someone he knew might be dead didn't bother him either. Now... The idea of Pavel being dead terrified him. He could feel eyes on him, and without turning said, "is this someone you knew?"

A small gasp, quickly stifled. Then, "y-yeah. Who're you?" Definitely a child, a boy maybe twelve.

"I won't hurt you. What happened?" He turned around, seeing the boy ready to bolt by the doorway.

"She OD'd. I tried to help her, I did. But she threw up and gagged and then stopped breathing..." The boy started to cry; jagged sobs of anguish. "Sshe was m-my sister."

"Shit. What's you're name, kid?" Vas started to move closer, trying and likely failing to seem non-dangerous.

"Leo. I'm Leo. She's... She was Illyana." He wiped his nose with a filthy sleeve.

Vasily couldn't tell if Leo was a user or not, but he didn't think so. "Where are your parents?"

Leo just shook his head. Vas snorted, then rubbed his head. "I know someone who can help you, if you want. And... Deal with your sister in a good way."

The boy nodded, and Vas led him out of the warehouse to his car. "So much for this trip," he thought.

---

When he knew the body had been removed, he went back to the warehouse to try again. With Igor's help he'd gotten the boy to a Church-owned shelter; with luck they'd find his parents or at least a better life than the street. One of the few limits Igor had concerned kids- he'd not hurt children. Not that it stopped his dealers from selling to kids, but if they did they didn't let Igor know. Vasily pulled up to the warehouse, this time it was once again empty. It would stay that way for a while too- the body had been reported to the police and removed, and the activity would keep the vagrants and junkies away for a few days at least. He'd still had no word from Pavel, and that bothered him as much as the rising tension within him. He sat down in the office and waited for dark.

He jumped when his cellphone rang. A few weeks past Igor had insisted that he carry one, and had provided the annoying device. "Vasily. Who calls?"

"It's Igor. Vasily, where did you find that body?"

"At the warehouse where I was attacked. I've been checking it off and on for signs that Fydor might have returned. Why?" He heard mumbles on the other end of the connection.

Igor sighed. "Because... It means we have a problem. That is in my territory. She didn't die of overdose. The smack she shot up was toxic, cut with something like rat poison. It's bad business, Vasily. When I find the bastard, I'll be calling you to deal with them." However calm the words, Igor was boiling with rage. "It isn't the first body that has turned up dead like this, Vasily. Three others in the last week."

"I will have no problem killing them." It was the only response Vasily could give, and honestly, killing someone like this he'd have no difficulty with at all. "Let me know when you find them." Igor hung up without another word.

And Vasily realized that he also had a problem- Fydor was a heroin addict too. Suddenly, he didn't feel like experimenting anymore.

---

"Come on... Answer the goddamn phone..." Vasily relaxed his grip on the phone when he noticed the ominous creak coming from the plastic handset. A fifth, sixth... "Hello?"

"Pavel, damn it, where have you been?" Vasily snapped, and felt a wave of relief at finally reaching his friend.

"I was out doing what you asked, what else?" Pavel sounded tired and annoyed. "I got some news for you, but I don't have his exact location. He's over in Southside territory, lying low and 'acting sick' from what I've heard."

Vas said, "can you meet me at the bar? I have some news too."

"Yeah, yeah." Pavel yawned. "Gimme a bit to wake up and I'll be there in an hour or a bit more."

Vasily hung up, then headed down to his car. He'd wait at the bar; maybe a shot or six would calm him... But he didn't think so. Alcohol didn't seem to do much to him anymore.

He was finishing his third shot when Pavel came in and bee-lined for their usual booth. Pavel rubbed his forehead, pushing his hair back with the gesture. "So I figure what you learned wasn't something that could be talked about on a phone?"

Vas nodded. "There's someone dealing poison heroin out there. Killed a girl, a runaway, leaving her brother alone. Igor got the toxicology report from the autopsy."

"So why couldn't... Oh. Connecting you and Igor and smack would be a bad thing. Got it." He ordered a beer, then counted the shots in front of Vas. "Six... Seven... And the one you're holding is eight. Geez, I've never seen you drink like this."

"That is because you've not been around when I was at Igor's Court. You drink when there, and don't stop til he says so. And he never says so." He grinned, or tried to. The effect was unsuccessful, given Pavel's own expression.

Pavel said, "wow. This really is bothering you. Why? Death is hardly something new to you."

Vasily wasn't totally sure himself. "I... Don't know. Maybe it was her name. My sister is named Illyana too, you know." Maybe it was the boy, being left alone like that. But... I will DEAL with who is selling this poison!" Rage roiled through him, and he started to stand- until a wave of calm flowed through him, and Pavel was staring at his eyes. He sat down and rubbed at them. After a bit he asked, "You weren't reacting to my anger, were you."

Pavel shook his head. "No. It happened again. Your eyes... Changed." He was still staring, then realized it and dropped his gaze. "Vasily, what's going on?"

He sighed. "I think, Pavel, you will be learning what my big secret is sooner than later... If you're willing. But. You cannot tell anyone, for both our sakes."

"... You weren't kidding that I'm going to have problems with it... Were you." Pavel's words were more a statement than anything else.

"I will be showing you, not telling. I don't think you'd believe me if I just said it. Finish up; we're going." Vas finished his drink, and dropped bills on the table.

Pavel got up quickly as well. "Where to?"

"Somewhere with no people," Vasily replied.

---

The building had been, in its day, one of the grand public-housing projects of the Soviet Union. Now it was an empty, derelict hulk, slated for demolition to make way for a luxury hotel. Vasily led Pavel inside and up the stairs until he was certain they'd not be bothered. In a windowless interior room he set up a pair of portable flourescent lanterns, illuminating the chamber's bare walls. "Wait here." Leaving the mystified con-man inside, he stepped into the hall and stripped down, putting on a pair of sweatpants before he returned to Pavel. "Now, sit. This will take some telling."

Pavel did as asked. "Okay, the stripping is more than a little weird, Vas. I don't see a sauna anywhere in here."

"It isn't for a sauna." Vas thought a moment before continuing. "You remember how I was hurt, right?"

"You were attacked by a dog, or dogs." Pavel was looking concerned.

"That's what the police and doctors decided. No. what dog leaves marks like this? " Vas gestured at the jagged scars on his chest, made worse by the marks of the stitches that had re-closed them. "This was done to me by Fydor."

"The junkie did this? Is that why you're after him? I can understand that," Pavel said. "But that doesn't explain everything."

Vas said, "spread your fingers, and hold them up to the marks on my chest."

"Fuck. Did... What, did he have knives or something on his fingers?" A look of wariness touched Pavel's expression.

"I'm getting there. No knives. Worse. He had claws. He nearly killed me, but I survived because I'm... I was, crazier than he was, and he was scared. Otherwise, I would have died. Pavel, you won't believe this... But Fydor is a werewolf."

It took a few moments, but Pavel laughed. "Wow. Vas, you had me going there for a moment!" The serious expression on Vasily's face took the force from his mirth.

"Pavel... This is no joke. Fydor was a werewolf, and I am one now too. I haven't tried to do this before, but I am going to try and change to show you. I may end up just looking foolish. But... If this works, know that I would not, will not hurt you."

"You know... Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe I don't need to know." Pavel was looking a little scared now.

"It's a good thing. God, you have no idea what it's like, not being able to talk to anyone about this. I need to find Fydor because I don't know the rules. He does... I hope. THAT is why I need him. Brace yourself. I am going to try now."

Vasily settled near the door, knowing that Pavel might try to run; he knew that for him now, running was an invitation to chase, and potentially something bad for Pavel's health. He closed his eyes and tried envisioning the full moon... And after five minutes he was still human and feeling stupid. "Damn. Fydor was able to change without the moon. I should be able to too!"

"Maybe you should focus on what it felt like?" Pavel covered his own mouth with his hand, as if he'd not actually wanted to say that.

"Maybe I should," Vasily replied, and put the suggestion into action. At first, nothing. Then, after maybe a minute of feeling more and more ridiculous, the familiar tingle washed over him. He managed to say, "Don't be afraid." before the change took full hold, and his world went white with the pain of change. He thought he heard Pavel shout, but he couldn't be sure; he mostly heard the silent screaming of his body as it altered. Finally, he shook his massive head and shoved himself up from where he'd collapsed to the floor. "Not so easy as for Fydor," he thought, then looked for Pavel. The little con-man was in the far corner of the room, looking terrified. Vas sat down, looked directly at Pavel, and shrugged.

Minutes passed before Pavel said anything. He stared wide-eyed at the white-furred mountain that sat where Vasily had been before, finally standing up and asking, "Vasily?"

The wolf nodded in the affirmative, then yawned. He really wanted to stretch, to get the last aches and tingles to go away, but Pavel was right at the edge of blind panic. He opened the duffel, noting absently that his color vision was fine in daylight, and pulled out a notepad and marker. He opened the marker, sneezed at the stink of it, then wrote on the tablet, "I CAN'T TALK LIKE THIS." He held it up so Pavel could see.

"You can understand me?" Pavel wasn't exactly calm, seeing the words, but at least he wasn't trying to claw through the walls either.

"YES." He held that up, then flipped the page to write more. "I TOLD YOU."

Pavel nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, you did. Holy fuck. So Fydor looks like you?"

"NO. SMALLER. BROWN AND BLACK. SKINNY." Vas held this up, then wrote, "COME HERE."

"Uh. No offense, but... Holy fuck. Give me a bit." Pavel ran a hand back through his hair, then steadied himself against the wall. "Wait, why do you want me to come there?"

Vas snorted, then wrote, "DON'T BE SUCH A FUCKING PUSSY."

That got a nervous, still panicky laugh. "Easy for YOU to say! You're a goddamned mountain of muscle! Fine." Pavel nerved himself, then strode over to Vasily.

Vas grinned and set the marker and pad down, then very gently hugged Pavel. He let him go, still grinning. Scooping the tablet back up he wrote, "THERE. I DIDN'T EAT YOU. YOU OKAY NOW?"

"Wow. That wasn't homoerotic or anything," Pavel mumbled. Vas laughed at that, huffing his amusement which drew a glare from his friend. "Are you stuck like this now or what?" Vasily shrugged.

"... You don't know?" Another shrug.

Vasily reached for the tablet, but Pavel put a hand on his arm. "I think you need to try to change back. It'll be easier to talk, too."

Huffing a sigh, Vas nodded. He sat back down and... Realized he didn't have any idea how! It had to be similar to changing into a wolf, or so he hoped. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. He closed his eyes, reaching for the sensations he remembered from his last full-moon reversion to human. He felt something, but... It wasn't quite right.

"Vas?" He opened his eyes and looked, Pavel was staring at him. "You okay?"

He nodded, then got the tablet. "WORKING ON IT." He closed his eyes again, remembering. It had started as a tingling burn along his spine... He focused on that, and was rewarded with that same firey sensation. He pushed, then let out a yelping whine of agony as the change hit, rolling over him in a wave far faster than he'd changed in the past. He whiplashed onto the floor, claws leaving gouges in the concrete as he writhed... Until everything went black.

His head was on something soft, but it pounded like something was trying to beat its way out of his skull. He moaned, and the pain made white flashes on his vision. "Vasily?" Pavel's voice, and the sound made his head hurt more.

"Please, no... Noise." He managed to get out. He could feel the light from the lanterns like pressure against his skin, everything hurt everywhere. It took a bit, but he realized that his head was pillowed on the duffel. Moving hurt, but he shaded his eyes with one shaking hand, and opened them. That hurt too. Pavel was sitting nearby, looking worried. "I think... I do not want to do that again," he whispered, and realized that on top of the pain, he was absolutely starving.

"You were out for hours. You went into convulsions, then... I thought you were dead, but you were breathing. I didn't know what to do, so I waited..." Pavel sounded tired and scared.

Vasily sat up, waiting for the sparkles and sensation of vertigo to pass before he spoke. "I need... To eat. And painkillers. God, painkillers." He panted a bit, then very slowly stood up. "Oh, why did I decide on this place and fucking stairs?"

It took forever to dress and get out of the building. The sun was setting as they got into Vasily's car. He let Pavel drive, and slumped back after dry-swallowing four Ibuprofin tablets from the bottle he kept in the glovebox. He'd never felt pain like that before, and he wasn't sure what caused it- another question for Fydor. Pavel hit a drive-thru, getting food for them both; six burgers and two orders of fries for Vasily, a single burger for himself. As soon as he started to eat the headache started to ebb, though the aches in his body remained. "I think... I do not want to do that again." He said finally.

"That... You're right. I wouldn't have believed that without seeing it. You gonna be okay?" Pavel kept his eyes on the road as he spoke.

Vasily shoved the last bit of burger into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "The food helped. Maybe I need to eat before changing back. I've always eaten before changing back during the full moons. Or maybe it was just too close to the first change. I need to ask Fydor these things; he changed faster than I, and was able to fight even when he was still changing. I don't like being helpless!"

"Helpless. Even with you laid out like that I couldn't see you as helpless." Pavel grinned. "So what about the thing with your eyes?"

"Eyes?" The headache was mostly gone, but thinking was fogged for Vasily.

"Your eyes. When you start getting really pissed or upset, they kinda go like your eyes as the wolf, and you calm down," Pavel replied.

"Oh." Vas rubbed his head, feeling stubble; he needed to shave soon. "Maybe... Well, the wolf... After I was attacked, I didn't crave violence and pain anymore. I don't want to hurt people without reason anymore. The wolf calms me, I think."

"That goes against every werewolf story I've ever seen, Vas."

Vas laughed, a low, quiet chuckle. "Most werewolf stories don't start out with the victim being a monster from the start, either! Usually it's some nice, bookworm-sort who gets attacked."

Pavel nodded. "Where to?"

"Back to your car, then I'm going home. I feel like shit. I'm going to try to sleep it off." Vas rubbed his eyes. "Damn. We'll go after Fydor tomorrow. If he's south, then maybe Igor will know what dealer he's using. And that might tell me who is selling the poison too."

"... We?"

---

"So. South you say?" Smoke curled above Igor from a particularly eye-watering cigar. "That would be Boris Janski's bunch. I can't see Boris approving of this." He glanced at his empty tumbler, and a man scrambled to fill it. "Your friend's information is good?"

Vasily nodded. "Pavel tends to get in over his head, but information... That from him can be trusted."

Igor tipped back half the glass in one gulp. "Well then. I will talk to Boris, get you free passage down there as my agent. Don't fuck up anyone you don't have to, Vasily." The rest of the glass is downed. "Seems we might not need to deal with Fydor after all, if he's done some of this toxic shit."

"Maybe. I won't know til I find the corpse." Vasily cracked his knuckles, stretching. "I hope he's alive. I owe him for the dogs. And for the frustration."

Igor snapped his fingers, then took another drag from the cigar. A sheaf of papers materialized, which he handed to Vasily. "These are Janski's dealers, at least the connections. The small fry I don't keep tabs on. One of them will know." A small packet is handed over to Vas as well. "Smell that."

Doing so, Vasily sneezed. Eyes watering, he said, "What the hell is this?"

"That," Igor said, "Is some of the poisoned smack. "Why the junkies didn't notice I don't know. Even I can smell it, smoking this thing." He gestured with the cigar. "Now you can find the shit. When you do, take your fucking time with him." There was nothing at all remotely pleasant in Igor's expression anymore. "Get going."

Vasily handed the packet back and left without a word.

"How'd it go?" Pavel asked as Vas got in and started the car.

"Better than I'd hoped; I can ID the poisoned junk now, and I have a list of men to talk to. None of them are likely the makers of the toxic stuff though. They work for Janski in Southside; he's not so gentle a soul as Igor."

Pavel shuddered at that. "Sounds like an angel."

Vas laughed. "A Fallen one, maybe!"

The first two dealers they 'visited' were scared; they knew who Vasily was, and they'd just gotten screamed at by their own boss. Neither knew who dealt the bad heroin. They let Vas check what they had on hand, and it was all clean. The third stop though... The door was ajar, and Vasily could smell blood. "Damn." He took out his cellphone and tossed it to Pavel. "If I don't come out, call Igor. Otherwise, wait here." Pavel nodded nervously, and Vas pulled a bat out from the back seat. Grimly, he strode up to the broken door.

The stink inside almost made him gag. It was definitely the source of the bad smack. Over that smell was the metallic reek of fresh blood, and the hot wet smell of shit. Nobody was immediately within, so he moved deeper inside. the stink got stronger; whatever had happened was likely over, given the silence. That, or they were waiting for him.

The place was a simple single-family home, probably built in the seventies for a relatively well-off public servant; now it was a rotted ruin claimed by criminals. He found what he was looking for in the back bedroom. A man, still warm, pinned to the wall by a six-foot length of rebar. All around him was more of the poisoned smack, and his mouth was packed with it. Ignoring the corpse, Vasily looked through the room to see if he could find evidence of who the man sold to, but found nothing. He returned to the car and retrieved his phone from Pavel.

Before dialing, he looked to Pavel. "What you are going to hear is bullshit. The truth is, I think Fydor killed this man, and I can't blame him. But I will take responsibility. Reputation, and this is what I was supposed to do to the dealer if I found him." He dialed the number and waited.

"May I help you?" Vasily recognized the voice as Gregori, one of Igor's bodyguards.

"It is Vasily. I found the dealer. Tell Igor the job is done." Silence for a moment, then the sounds of the phone being transferred. "Where?" Igor's voice.

Vasily rattled off the address and the man's name. With grim humor in his voice he said, "I found some rebar. It was useful."

He imagined Igor nodding, and heard the man tip back more vodka. "Good. I will tell Boris to clean up his mess. Any sign of the other problem?"

"Hints, only. But this man was the source, so Fydor must be near."

"Good luck, Vas. Stop by when you're finished." Igor hung up. Vasily knew that he'd been given permission to continue his hunt in Janski's territory.

Turning to his companion, he asked, "Pavel, do you have any information on where the addicts hang out here?"

"Nope. But if you gimme the phone I can maybe find out." Vasily handed it over, and Pavel started making calls. He gestured for Vasily to drive, saying, "head east." More directions are rattled off as he made turn after turn, until he saw something that made him hit the brakes hard.

"Fuck!" Pavel dropped the phone into the footwell as he lurched into the seatbelt. What the hell was..."

Vas already had the door open. "Drive away. I will find you. GO!" He took off like a shot after what he'd seen- the skinny, ragged form of Fydor, running faster than any normal human.

Fydor was running, but Vas wasn't sure from what- the scene of the murder or something else entirely. He was definitely moving like the devil himself was on his heels, and never once looked back to see his new pursuer. Vasily followed him through alleys, slowing only when Fydor himself did. The chase slowed to a walk, Fydor's head whipping back and forth rapidly as he dodged into the back door of an auto shop. Vas stopped- it didn't look like the place was as abandoned as Fydor's usual haunts. The reason for the stop became apparent as Fydor reappeared, running again with someone's lunchbox clutched to his chest.

Nobody came out after him, so Vasily started after him again. Fydor didn't stop again until he found a dark and empty old garage. He ducked inside, and when Vas approached slowly some minutes later he could hear the man panting as he bolted down the stolen meal. He decided to give the junkie no chance at all. He dove under the door, rolling to his feet as the startled addict started to rise. Fydor's eyes bugged when he saw his opponent, but it was far too late to run; Vas had him by the throat and slammed against the wall before he could blink.

"If you try to change, I will RIP your FUCKING head off!" Vas snarled.

Fydor went limp, and started to sob. Vas let go, and the ruin of a man dropped to the floor and curled into a ball. "Leavemealoneeavemebeeeee..." The words came in a shattered burst, all the fight and flight finally out of him.

Vasily looked at this, then sighed. "You are SO fucked. Sit up. Sit the hell up; if I wanted you dead, you'd BE dead."

Fydor shivered, then backed into the corner of the garage, upright but still curled in on himself. "You. You. Why? I left, I did! I just..."

"Shut up." Fydor did, breathing fast. he stank of sweat, filth and the toxic heroin. "You made me like you, Fydor. Did you know that?"

"No."

Vas crouched, a relaxed but ready posture. "Well, you did. Problem is... I don't know how it works. I have the deal of a lifetime for you, junkie. Want to hear it?"

A jerking nod from Fydor. "Y-yeah."

Vasily grinned, not a pleasant sight. "I'll pay Igor off for you. All of it, interest included. I'll get you cleaned up, even get you some shit that isn't laced with rat poison. In return you'll tell me EVERYTHING you know about being a werewolf. Every goddamned bit. I'll find out, and I'll find YOU, if you hold a single damned bit back. Got it?"

Fydor looked desperately hopeful. "Yeah. I just..." Vasily held up a hand, and Fydor quieted.

"One other condition. Once you've told me everything, you get the fuck out of Moscow, and you don't come back. Is this getting through that skinny head of yours?"

Fydor hugged himself, rocking. "Y-yeah. I guess there ain't shit left for me here anyway."

"Damn right there isn't. Come with me." As Fydor stood up, Vas asked, "So why did you kill that guy?"

Fydor froze. "I... I didn't. But I watched."

Vasily blinked. "What?"

"I didn't. My wolf did." He giggled. "Right through the stomach and out the back, fair to pay for poison smack!" He giggled again, and Vasily had to stop himself from stepping back from Fydor.

"You have some issues," he muttered, but Fydor went quietly enough as he found a payphone to call Pavel to pick them up.

---

Two weeks later, Vasily met up with Pavel at their bar. Pavel raised his eyebrows when he saw Vas, who was unshaven and looking utterly exhausted. "Vas, what the hell happened to you?"

Vasily rubbed his head. "Playing head-shrinker to a crazy-as-fuck heroin addict werewolf. Jesus." He gestured the waiter over, ordering his usual meal and a bottle of bourbon. When the waiter had retreated, he continued. "Fydor... He told me what he knew. But in between 'lessons' he'd sit and mutter to his 'other half'. I don't know if it's normal for there to be a second personality or not, and that makes me worry."

Pavel clinked his beer against Vas' glass and they both drank. "Well, you're just you, right"?" Vas nodded. "Then I'd not worry. Where's whacky-wolf now?"

Vas snorted laughter, then sneezed. "Bastard, that went up my nose!" Wiping his face with a napkin he said, "On a bus out of town, one-way. and good riddance."

"Let's hope so. What about Igor? Pavel asked.

"What about him? He got his money, and Fydor is out of his hair, and the bad smack is off the streets." Vasily watched Pavel before taking another drink of his bourbon.

Pavel grinned at that. "I thought he wanted you to kill him?"

"He wanted his money. Fydor being dead would have been a bonus; a message to other deadbeats. I'm sure he expected me to kill him, but..." Vasily shrugged.

Pavel drained his beer. "And he doesn't know about what you've become."

"No. And God forgive if he ever does."