Sam stared at the bookcase. It was filled with files, not books, and instead of just picking one up, he preferred to stare and wonder what they held. Because if he didn't play this imagination game, his mind would wander to other things. Like Tom being captured and taken heaven knew where. Or Ron actually being related to them and their parents never mentioning him.

What the hell was wrong with his family? How many more criminal skeletons did their closet hold? Was Snitch Gravel some vengeful long lost cousin, too? It was getting ridiculous.

Sam focused on the files again. Why were they here? Deciding that just staring wasn't working anymore, he picked one out of the many and opened it randomly. Pictures of dead children. Groovy.

Sam threw the file on the floor and picked another one. This time, when he opened it, there was a medical report. Dead adults this time. He tossed it on the floor over the other and picked one from a lower shelf. Plans of the compound. This was much more interesting.

He sat down cross-legged and analyzed the sketches inside. They were outdated and showed how the labs had been modified over thirty years. They had been used for nuclear experiments until about twenty years ago when they'd turned them into what looked like a medical facility. All the pictures of dead people suddenly made sense. But what were they doing, hidden in the woods? What were they trying to develop?

Hating to have to do this, Sam picked up one of the desecrated files and looked past the pictures, to the medical records. There was a mention of a serum, side effects, subjects going insane, but nothing to indicate what this serum was for.

"What's up, kid?" Kyle asked sitting next to Sam.

Sam jumped and dropped the file. The others had been so quiet, he'd even forgotten they were there. Come to think about it, they were all getting some much needed sleep. He should sleep too, but he couldn't. Not without a plan and for that he needed information about Tom.

"Just filling up my time. Trying not to think about how screwed up our family is," he mumbled, closing the file. "It's interesting, you know. Von Crooken restarted the experiments, and I've always thought it was about the nuclear experiments Herrison mentioned. But what if it's about this?" He passed the file to Kyle who opened it and started reading something at random. "It's really freaky, all those dead people. I'm wondering what they were trying to make."

"Me," Kyle said unexpectedly.

Sam did a double take. "What?" He was not expecting an answer. Maybe some farfetched theory.

"They were trying to make me," Kyle repeated and put the file down for Sam to see. It was another report, but not a medical one. "These tests. They're testing their strength, resistance, healing speed. Most of them don't make it."

Sam stared at Kyle so hard, he thought he'd start seeing his insides soon. They'd never talked about this. For most part, Kyle hadn't known why he was so strong, healed so fast, was so... different. And now, out of the blue, he seemed to know exactly what was going on.

"Wait, these files are dated before you were born."

"Others are not." Kyle nodded towards the second file which had a year on its front. Two years after Kyle was born.

"So..." Sam licked his lips. He was suddenly strangely thirsty. "Do you think you're a survivor of this... this drug trial?"

Kyle hesitated for a few moments. "Not exactly. I was never here, so I can't have been part of the trial."

For a wild moment, Sam wondered if that was true. Maybe Kyle was there, but he just couldn't remember it because he was a baby. Could his parents have done that to him? The obvious answer was no. Just like they hadn't given up Tom and Jimmy willingly, this could also be some sort of mistake.

"Do you... um, do you think this is why..." Sam couldn't get it out. No matter what. Because Kyle was the least dangerous person on the planet to anyone he loved.

"This is why I was sent to Texas in the first place?" Kyle asked, filling in the not so subtle blanks. "I don't know, and I hope not." His eyes lowered to the file again. "Because this looks really bad. There are so many things that could've backfired."

Sam agreed. It looked horrible. Why would any parent subject their child to something like this? The subjects had turned aggressive, attacked their keepers, done serious damage before they were put down. Others killed themselves. This wasn't funny. It was beyond anything that could be considered funny.

"I wonder how far along Von Crooken was before Snitch Gravel stopped him," Kyle said, flipping a couple of pages.

"We should try to find out," Sam said. The thought of one of Snitch Gravel's perverted men with Kyle's abilities was beyond scary. Brute strength and lack of morals made for a dangerous man. "How do you think you got the serum?"

"I think I should actually ask Mom and Dad about that," Kyle mumbled and closed the files. "Because unless Snitch Gravel somehow had access to some serum and this apparently classified information and decided to use me as a guinea pig when I was a baby, this is all their doing."

A shiver ran down Sam's spine, and despite the stifling air in the small room, he felt cold. He'd rather not think about this anymore. Like a blessing, William stirred on the floor. Both Sam and Kyle tensed and got into a crouching position, ready to tackle him in case he started singing nursery rhymes again. But William stayed silent as he sat up and scanned the room with probing eyes. His gaze stopped on Sam and Kyle and his eyes narrowed in dislike.

"Where are we?" he asked.

The sound of his voice sounded too loud after all the low conversation. Jimmy bolted up, his fists clenched, ready to attack. The others stirred, too

"We're somewhere inside Snitch Gravel's base," Sam answered elusively. He was in no mood to hear William lecturing him about failing. He felt pretty crappy on his own, didn't need William rubbing it in.

"Where is your twin then?" William demanded, looking around.

"We didn't manage to get him out," Angie answered, her tone lethal, as though daring William to criticize them in any way. "They suspected we were coming and moved him to another place."

William pursed his lips, looking truly sorry for her, which was really weird, because he didn't usually show any positive emotion. Angie didn't seem to appreciate it, though, because she narrowed her eyes at him.

"How did you find this place?" he asked, turning his attention to Sam.

"We had some outside help," Billy answered.

"Why does that not surprise me?" William rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "It baffles me how you've managed to get this far on your own." He huffed dismissively and Sam's hands itched to punch him in the face. Just once.

"Again with this?" Billy rolled his eyes. "Do you want another nap?"

William frowned. "What do you mean?"

Billy frowned, too. "Wait, you mean you have no idea what happened?"

"I probably relapsed..."

"You didn't relapse!" Billy clenched his fists.

"Billy, stop it, it's not helping," Kyle said, and Sam had to agree.

"Of course it is. If he knows he was knocked out because he had a big mouth, then he'll shut up, maybe," Billy insisted.

Deathly silence filled the room. Sam could actually hear the low buzzing of the light bulb.

"I was knocked out?" William finally said, his voice low and dangerous. "Who dared knock me out?"

"I dared, okay?" Kyle snapped. "And I'll do it again if you don't shut your damn mouth."

William opened his mouth to speak, but Sam had had enough. "Stop it! I don't know what the deal with you two is, but knock it off! This is not the time and place for..." He frowned.

The others froze too, because they could clearly hear the scraping of a ladder on the floor below and the other end hitting the trap door. Sam motioned towards the walls and they all scattered away from the entrance.

It could be Ron. In a world where Sam had any luck left, it would be Ron. It was not Ron. Not Ron at all. A bottle flew into the room, followed by a tall, broad guy with messy dark hair and a whole lot of stubble. He pulled himself up, pulled the ladder after him, then finally raised his eyes and realized he wasn't alone. His eyes widened before Jimmy hit him on the sides of the neck, knocking him out.

"This is inconvenient," he said, dragging the body off the trap door.

Inconvenient was putting it mildly. How long until someone would come looking for him? And Ron had said only he and Snitch Gravel knew about this place. Though the bottle had Sam wondering. Maybe this guy just used the place to get sauced.

"It's actually a stroke of luck," William said, getting to his feet.

"Please tell me how this is a stroke of luck," Sam practically begged him, because he needed it so badly.

"Look at him." William prodded the unfortunate henchman with his foot. "He is similar in height and build to your brother." He nodded towards Jimmy.

"True," Sam agreed. The guy was maybe an inch or two shorter than Jimmy, but otherwise their statures were alike. "There's only the problem with... I don't know. The face."

"Ah, but that I can fix." William walked to his backpack and pulled a small black case out of it.

Sam's eyes widened and he actually had hope. That small case. Herrison had included it in their luggage, but he'd had no idea what it was until William had illuminated them. A mask making kit. Sure, they all sucked, but William surely knew how to use one.

And as he sat down cross legged in the middle of the floor, it was so obvious that he did. It took him twenty minutes to produce a fine replica of the man's features. Another ten for Jimmy to gear up and descend into the unknown, wearing someone else's face.

And the others were left to wait.

*

"They're overdoing it."

The mumbled words were the first thing he heard. Then, it started. The burning pain, the numbness, the lack of air. He tried to scream, but only a strangled moan came out. It did nothing to subside the burning needles poking every inch of skin. His back was on fire.

Someone moved him. His eyelids cracked opened. Red. He could only see red. And he remembered what red meant. He shut his eyes tight.

"I don't remember anything." The despair in his voice scared him, but it didn't matter. Because they wouldn't take pity. They never did.

Whoever was next to him paused. "I see." A man by the sound of his voice. A voice that sounded vaguely familiar.

"Kyle?" he whispered.

The stranger huffed and moved again. His back started to burn. A subtle smell of flowers reached him.

"What's your name?" the man demanded.

"My name?" What an interesting question. He searched long and hard and realized that through the pain, through the fear and the haze, he had an answer. "Tom," he finally whispered.

"Your last name?"

What the hell was this guy doing? Tom's brain already hurt from remembering his first name. Did he want his social security number too? Well, at least his sass was back. "I don't have one. I'm an orphan."

"Does the name Grant ring any bells?"

"Fifty bucks?" Tom asked.

The stranger pressed his hands on his back firmer than before. Tom let out a strangled yelled.

"Try again," the man growled.

This was stupid. Why was this guy here? Why couldn't he just leave Tom alone in his peaceful unconsciousness. And why should he give a rat's ass about the name...

Grant. His name. Jimmy. Sam, Jerry, Kyle. Angie. Tom's eyes shot open and he stared at the wall in front of him. He was laying on the floor and couldn't see the man next to him, he'd have to turn his head. He wasn't sure he couldn't.

"Yes, it's my last name," he said weakly.

"Good. Now get ready because I'm going to tip you over. Whatever you do, don't scream. I'm not supposed to be here."

Before Tom could brace himself, hands grabbed his side and tipped him over. For a second he blacked out when his back touched the floor. He would've screamed if he had the strength to, but nothing but a low moan escaped his lips. It took him moments for his vision to return, and he caught his first glimpse of his companion.

The man kneeled by his side, a small round box in one hand. He wore long robes and a hood that covered his face. Tom was unpleasantly reminded of a ring wraith.

"Who are you?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that?" the man mumbled, taking some ointment out of the box and spreading it on Tom's chest.

Tom hissed when it touched his cuts, but the overall effect was calming. He couldn't even feel his back anymore, but it was probably because he'd gone numb.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Something else everyone wants to know. I'm doing this because I want you to owe me. Three out of five so far."

"What do you mean?"

The man paused and tilted his hooded head. "You mean Kyle didn't tell you about me? About how I saved his life? Jimmy's?"

Tom tried to process what he was hearing but his brain was filled with white noise, focused on the pain and keeping him conscious. "No."

"Figures. Ungrateful brats. Let's try to remember some more. Where are you?"

Tom shook his head. He didn't want to remember more. Remembering came with pain and he'd had enough of that to last him a lifetime. But something nagged him, a sense of danger. They were in danger and he had to warn the others. Only, he couldn't remember what that danger was. It had something to do with Ron and Von Crooken and Snitch Gravel. Their faces swam before his eyes, mixing and creating a six-eyed monster.

"The labs," the man said. "You're in the labs."

"The labs," Tom whispered. "The diamond. The funky water. The fence." The pain. He was in Snitch Gravel's compound, captured, being tortured to forget. Forget what? He couldn't remember anything after he'd fallen unconscious at Von Crooken's feet.

"That's enough." The man took a knife out.

Tom shut his eyes, expecting to feel it cutting through him. He didn't even have the strength to lift his hands and try to protect himself. But the man used the knife to cut his t-shirt off. He tossed aside the pile of rags and pulled out a new, scarlet shirt. The color stirred something in Tom's tired brain, but he couldn't make the needed connection.

He let out a scream when the stranger wrestled the t-shirt on him.

"Stop squirming," the man snapped and lowered Tom back to the floor. "I'll be back after the next session. Try not to die."

"Wait, you've been here before?" Tom asked desperately. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't even know what he'd do alone.

"Yes," the man said impatiently. "And we have this delightful conversation every time. And you keep forgetting it." He pressed a vial to Tom's mouth and forced the bitter liquid down his throat.

The taste triggered something, a memory long forgotten. It's cherry syrup. Ron. A cage. But he could no longer think. His thoughts jumbled, his vision faded and everything went black.

And, we have a chapter, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you, thank you!

Pretty heavy stuff, eh? I'm really curious what you think about all the wild experiments. And also about that freaky guy who appears out of the blue all the time.

Fingers crossed we'll have another update next week!

Thanks for reading and don't forget to vote and comment. I need writing juice and I take it in the form of wild guesswork.