The night seemed never to end, as if giving a naked lunatic one last chance to steal an important corpse. The young Bloodhound cursed under his breath, for once again he didn't have the courage to act on his own. He waited for the captain's decision again, though his gut told him that this naked jerk had come for a reason in the middle of the night.

The naked man's actions seemed too feigned. And his speech? He was getting lost at every step, trying to make up a plausible story. How can a donkey break down? How can one lose even one's underpants? What was he holding? The naked lunatic said it was a drawing of a clock, but the paper seemed too old to draw a drawing on. And don't you need a watch to fix it? Why would a mechanic need a drawing without a watch?

However, he trusted the code of Bloodhounds, which said: "Don't get in the way of older dogs."If the captain let go of a naked lunatic, the youngster could only agree to his decision. But how much he wanted to say the sweet and sour phrase 'I told you so!' when there was first a creaking sound outside, and then muffled voices and an obvious scream.

The young Bloodhound immediately realized that it wasn't a naked lunatic who was shouting. The lunatic's voice was like a sugary pie hiding shit under a sweet crust. But someone else was shouting, in a nasty voice, like an offended child.

The night was pitch-dark when the captain leaped for the voice and the young Bloodhound hurried after him, but the Bloodhounds had a reason for training their sharp ears. They knew immediately where the noise was coming from.

Cyril puffed with the heavy corpse in tow and couldn't figure out how his body worked.

'I threw the earth like a freaking backhoe, but it's pretty hard to drag this body.' Cyril wondered. 'This is similar to the situation with the headboard. I felt pain when nothing was dangerous.'

"I've always wanted to be an alchemist and prove that this science is underrated." The alchemist grumbled behind him.

"Save your breath, it's a long run." Cyril said, and decided to put off his thoughts for later.

'I can't let them catch up with us. No one should die just 'cause I can't control my body.'

"Did you want to prove something?" He called over his shoulder. The agents ran half the way from the hangar and Cyril had no time to break away. "Detain them."

He didn't know how the alchemist was supposed to stop them, but he thought the alchemist was not as simple as he might seem.

Kalim did have a couple of tricks up his sleeve. One of the reasons he couldn't at least lend Cyril his hoodie was because of the sleeves. The wide shape of the hoodie and the comfortable double lining made it possible to hide some secrets in the clothes.

Kalim let go one of his hands, letting the corpse drag on the ground, and took a small vial from an inner pocket. Glass flashed in the light of the street lamp, and Kalim opened the wooden lid. There was a pungent smell, but Kalim was used to all sorts of smells. Once, he actually evaporated his urine, even though it wasn't phosphorus he was looking for.

On that occasion, Kalim drank a decoction from the bark of a wicker tree to investigate its cleansing properties for the body. This was a personal order from the Minister of Health, which, of course, the king did not know, but, sorry, the alchemist digressed.

He turned, waved his hand, and the vial flew toward the two lanterns. The captain of the Bloodhounds was just about to use the name of Fate when a bright light flashed in front of them, playing with purple sparks.

"A philosopher's stone into my anus!" The alchemist swore. "Son of a bitch, damn it!"

If Dyck had been there, he would have raised an eyebrow at the bookworm's words, but Cyril continued to drag the dead body and only turned to see the sparks settling.

"What was that?"

Kalim held one of the mechanic's hands and rubbed his eyes with the other.

"I blinded myself before I could turn away." He mumbled, trying not to stumble. It was enough for him that he almost broke his tailbone.

Cyril was in a hurry. While the men were sleeping, all they had to do was get away from the agents and hide the body. There was not enough of time.

"Move your feet." He said, ignoring Kalim's whining. "Is there another thing like this?"

In truth, he was delighted with the blind grenade.

'If this moron hadn't already blind himself up, he would have been priceless.'

"I'll check it out." Kalim said, adding more weight to Cyril rather than helping to drag the corpse. "Ah! Damn it!"

Kalim stumbled and fell to the ground, still holding the corpse. Now Cyril was actually dragging two bodies instead of one.

"In the name of Fate, I command you to stand!" A voice came from behind them.

'Piss of shit!' Cyril thought, seeing that the agents were almost upon them.

"Get up and run, you idiot!" He said to Kalim, quickening his pace.

"I found it!" Kalim replied, taking a phial from the folds of his robe.

He got up and started running after Cyril.

"If we get caught, I'm finished."

He had just used an explosive mixture, proving that he had practiced alchemy. He had been secretive for years, but now he had no choice. Either they would get away and Kalim would continue to hide in the shadows, or the Bloodhounds would catch them, and then he would not be able to act a fool as Cyril had done.

"Don't you fucking whine, move!"

Cyril ran, dragging the corpse behind him, and Kalim was amazed at how quickly Cyril managed to escape. Kalim could barely keep up with him, risking stumbling every second. In the heat of the chase, he finally decided to ask:

"How can you see in the dark?"

Without waiting for an answer, he turned back and dropped the second phial.

There was a crash and a cloud of dust rose a dozen meters behind the naked lunatic. Bits of earth and broken stone flew in different directions, like shrapnel.

The young Bloodhound rubbed his eyes frantically, blinded by the first flash when the captain called a halt. The experienced captain had covered his face as soon as he had seen the hooded whiner thrown something that had glinted in the lamplight. The bright light blinded the young Bloodhound, but the captain did not lose sight of the fugitives.

When the hooded whiner fell to the ground, the captain had no doubt that he would catch up with the naked lunatic, but the whiner dropped something again, and the captain closed his eyes. A hand saved his eyes from a bright flash, but a fragment of stone hit the captain on his cheek.