[ Yip? ]

Petre smothered Blurb between his thighs as the bulbous black pup loosed another wet plop.

He looked up from his desk, and broke out in a cold sweat. Both Georgii and Yakov were staring.

"Why is this..." Petre muttered to himself as he smiled for the two of them. Neither looked away, which made him wonder what they had heard.

He snuck a look down at Blurb and found the wet blob of black squished between his legs like an overlarge bowl of pudding. The gooey stub of its tail wagged back and forth in evident pleasure.

"Nephew!"

Petre jerked towards the noise, and recoiled in blank horror as nuncle stomped towards his desk.

"Why is this happening..." Petre muttered as a dizziness fell over him. Blurb was a hallucination. Blurb had to be a hallucination.

Lyov Predav stopped in-front of his desk with an unusual look (Unusual in the sense that it was not filled with hate and frustration) to his brutish face.

"Yes? Nuncle?" Petre tried to push the hysteria from his voice, but failed.

Lyov opened his mouth, frowned, and then clamped his fat lips shut. Petre could not remember the last time he had seen nuncle so confused, and it made him want to scream.

"You look... unwell," Lyov said after a few moments. "Are you really sick?"

"No, I am fine," Petre said, automatically, but then he remembered his earlier lie because he was not an absolute idiot. "But I do feel a little sick, of course, like I told you before."

"Huh," Lyov huffed, arms akimbo. "Nephew. What's this about a dog?"

Petre's mind went white and filled with an indistinct screech. His eyes drifted slowly down to his lap where Blurb remained squeezed and oblivious. Could nuncle see the black mess from where he stood?

"Dog?" Petre said, the word drawn out and slow. "I don't know what that is. I mean, I know what a dog is, but I don't have one."

"I didn't ask if you had a dog," Lyov said with the beginnings of a smile. "You have a dog now?"

"I just said I don- "

"That'sh all he'sh been mutchering about today," Yakov said, his voice elated. "Dogsh and mallsh and a whole bunch of crazshy."

"And look at his clothes!" Georgii said, standing up from his desk with an ear-to-ear grin. "I think our Little Petre has found himself a woman, bossman."

Petre's jaw went slack as Georgii added his own excitement to the bizarre talk. To his horror, it seemed the entire office was staring towards his lonesome corner with rapt attention.

"New clothes, a pet, even a woman," Lyov said, counting each item on his hand. "Is this really my nephew?"

"Shtill the shame crazshy mutteringsh," Yakov said.

"I don't have a pet," Petre said, his throat dry and his head light. He scooted his chair further under his desk. He was not sure if the others would be able to see Blurb, but it was not a risk he was willing to take.

"Only way we can know what's happening with our Little Petre, those mutterings," Georgii added.

Both Lyov and Yakov shared a gravel chuckle.

"Is that what you have been up to this past week?" Lyov asked, and Petre hated the smile that stained nuncle's face. It was not mockery, but an elated surprise.

"I don't want to spoil your fun," Petre said as loud as he dared, "but nothing has happened."

[ Yip! Yip! ]

It seemed the entire world stilled as Blurb added its own noise to their conversation. Nobody spoke. Nobody breathed.

And then the world resumed in a rush of excitement.

"What was that?" Lyov asked with a frown.

"I heard it that time!" Georjii said with a smile.

"My stomach," Petre blurted out, but Georgii and Yakov both came over to his desk wearing wide-eyed amusement.

"I think our Little Petre is hiding something," Georgii said, and Petre could have smacked his mouse-like face.

"Shomething under hish deshk perhapsh," Yakov said, barring his white teeth in a delirious smile.

"Nephew," Lyov said, his words sharp. Gone was his earlier playfulness. "You better not have brought some animal into the office."

"I, I just... You all... My, my goodness!" Petre stumbled over his tongue. Beads of sweat rolled down his face at the undue attention.

"Letsh have a look then," Yavok said, and he reached over Petre's desk.

"Hey!" Petre exclaimed, slapping the man's swollen hands away. "What is the matter with you all?"

Leaning forward, Petre scooped Blurb out from between his thighs and stuffed the black blob under his shirt.

"What'd you put under your shirt then, Little Petre?" Georjii asked. He turned to nuncle, and said, "I think he really did bring... something into the office."

"Get on up!" Yakov said with a bark of laughter. He yanked Petre's chair out from under his desk. "Time for shome show-and-tell!"

Yakov tried to grab the hem of Petre's shirt, but Petre pushed Yakov's hands away in a manic panic.

"You all are pissing me of-off!" Petre said, and his body shivered in disgust as something wet and slimy began to spread out across his arms and legs.

"Don't be shy now," Yakov said. He continued to frisk Petre's shirt in unmasked delight.

"I said stop!" Petre shouted, and he tried to shove the boulder of flesh that was Yakov away.

There was a loud crash and clatter as Yakov flew a few feet backwards into Georjii's desk.

The room fell silent as the bull rose to his feet, his barreled chest heaving, his small eyes bulging. The right sleeve of his shirt had torn in the fall, and a line of crimson wet stood beside its white. Yakov ran a finger across the cut and snarled.

"You made me bleed," the boar said as he stomped back towards Petre.

Nuncle and Georjii both tried to calm him, but Yakov pushed them aside in a blind frustration.

"I did not mean- " Petre began, but his words were interrupted as Yakov swung a meaty fist at his head.

Petre felt something jerk his body away from the fist. Yakov's punch sailed over his head, but in the next moment another was thrown. Both Georjii and nuncle shouted, their words indistinct.

Petre felt the same odd sensation as his body was jerked away from the second fist. It almost felt like he was on a roller-coaster with how much force yanked him out of the way.

And then he was on his feet, and Yakov gawked at him, mouth agape and eyes full of surprise.

Like a marionette bound in string, Petre's arm was lifted into the air, and then it dropped like an anvil on-top of Yakov's shaven head.

The boar crumpled onto the floor, and pandemonium broke out.

"Fighting like a bunch of children!" Lyov shouted, spittle flying at Yakov and Petre both.

Petre looked down at his hands, still in disbelief.

Yakov had been roused with a splash of water to the face. The entire office had been horrified at first, but concern had turned into hilarity after Yakov stumbled to his feet. The tall and thin Petre had KOed the bull Yakov, after all.

"I should fire the both of you," Lyov said. He alone had not been amused by the exchange. "The computer you knocked over is broken!"

"I'm shorry, boshman," Yakov said.

"And you!" Lyov clapped his hands, and Petre looked up, dimly. "Are you really sick?"

Petre's opened his mouth, but he could not find the right words.

Blurb was gone, and he was not sure when the black blob had disappeared. Petre could still remember the wet sensation that spread across body, covering his arms and legs. He could still remember the gooey black ichor squished between his legs.

But had it really happened?

"I am just so confused, nuncle," Petre said, exhausted. Because there was no proof that Blurb had been in the office aside from Yakov's collapse. And Petre had been the one that hit him, not Blurb.

"You got a lucky punch in," Yakov said, and there was no bitterness to his words. "A damn lucky punch. I am shtill sheeing shtars."

Petre jumped as Yakov slapped him on the back. He could scarcely believe his ears as the boar bellowed with laughter, and not the derisive sort Petre was used to.

"Don't you laugh this off," Lyov rumbled, and Yakov's humor died. "But you, nephew. Maybe you are sick. I'll see if Georjii can drive you home."

"What? No," Petre said, some of his stupor lost. "T-thank you, nuncle, but I can manage. I mean, yes, I would like to leave, but- "

"Georjii will drive you," Lyov said with a finality that brokered no argument. Petre nodded and followed after nuncle as the three of them returned to the office. They had been taken into the stairwell for their chewing out.

"The slugger is back!"

Petre sneered as Georjii cried out as the three of them entered the office. He opened his mouth to retort, but then he noticed Manya, and his throat went dry.

"I jus' heard about all the excitement," Manya said with a mischievous smile.

Her short hair was a wild tangle of red locks. Short and thin, Manya had always reminded Petre of a pampered chihuahua. There was far too much bite in someone so small.

His stare was drawn at once to the strangeness of Manya's left eye. Some sort of birth defect had left her partially blind. The pupil looked as though it had been squeezed and smeared between someone's fist.

"Gossiping like a flock of hens." Lyov shook his head. "I don't want to hear any more of it. Georjii, over here."

"You look well," Manya said as she walked over and punched Petre playfully in the stomach.

She threw her arms around him in a familial hug. Blood still rushed to his face. She had grown in the years since he had thought himself a big brother to her. She seemed scarcely to notice her own transformation at times.

"You as well," Petre said with a strained chuckle. He pattered her on the head, as he always did, to remind her of how short she was.

There was no resemblance between Manya and nuncle, nor blood. To this day her parentage remained a small mystery to Petre. It had all happened when he was a teenager. His parents had told him nuncle had a child, and that was that. He had been old enough to know that girls did not pop into thin air, but nobody had offered him more of an explanation on where she had come from.

"This was all rather clever, by the way," Manya said after she had swatted his hand away. "I don' think Father will ask you to come into the office for a while after this."

"You know me," Petre said, unsure of what else to say. He could never find the right words when the two of them spoke. She had become a woman, but in his mind she would always be a little sister.

"I am to drive you home then?"

Petre and Manya both turned to Georjii. He wore his usual mousy smile as he looked at the two of them in turn.

"And he makes his escape," Manya said with another mischevious smile. "I won't keep you from your leisure."

"I am sick," Petre said, defensively.

"We all know that," Manya said, rolling her eyes. "I would say get better, but I know better than to dream."

Petre smiled for her. Anyone else and he would have sneered.

"Thank you, Georjii," he said, and then to Manya, "Stay out of trouble, cuz."

A smile tickled Petre's lips as he left the office. At least for the moment, it seemed like whatever mania surrounded him would subside.

Special Entity Zero-One watched. They listened. They hated.

The red-headed worm had touched Petre Predav and his pupils had dilated, his heart rate had increased. Special Entity Zero-One did not understand what it meant, but it should not have happened.

Special Entity Zero-One did not even understand their own hate, their own unease.

But as Petre Predav left the room, Special Entity Zero-One came to a decision. They would lay claim to what was theirs. They would not allow another to steal their long sought-after treasure.