The Third Option

The Prodigal Bastard

Kuzey - TRNC
Stelios - Cyprus
Hestia - Nyo Greece
Alin - Romania
Tsvetan - Bulgaria

...

Yeah I got that few-chapters-in sluggishness. You'd think a story I don't have to write from scratch would be easier to get chapters done for, but I do have other things I want to write, and I draw sometimes I guess. Also 2013 me couldn't fucking write so editing this shite is hard.
Some GiriPan and past TurGre in this chapter.

...

He had half an hour before the next patrol.

Heracles kept a calm, steady gaze on the Eastern Market Square at the end of the alley, hidden in the shadows of a doorway in a CCTV blindspot he'd found earlier. The city wall loomed over him, over the slums where the residents crowded into one-room huts, trying to give off no signs of life. Anyone caught outside in the lowest level was shot on sight. It was where scum to low-level to execute were evicted, and the people here were considered disposable. Heracles tried to avoid the place, if he could.

He was waiting for someone he hadn't seen for ten years.

All he had to go on was a note left on his counter that morning. Anonymous, but in a familiar hand, and telling him to wait here at 10pm, have whatever was left of the rebels ready, and it was probably a trap. But Heracles had dedicated his life to the pursuit of knowledge, and he just couldn't walk away from a mystery. He always needed to know more.

Kiku said it was a bad idea, though. Heracles was known to the police. He'd been low down in the rebel ranks, not important enough to punish, just keep an eye on.

Not like his siblings.

Had this been to test if he'd cause trouble, if given the opportunity? Because he would. Though he'd probably just get tortured to death and dumped who knows where.

At least Kiku was safe.

He couldn't be throwing his life away, though. It'd hurt Kiku, in more ways than one. He was being selfish.

"What am I doing here?" he asked himself, scratching the back of his head.

"Waiting for me, I presume," came a voice from the end of the alley.

Heracles jumped, just suppressing a shout. He turned towards the voice with raised fists, then immediately lowered them.

"Sadik Adnan you bastard," he murmured, "you're really back."

"The one and only," Sadik winked at him. He was grinning widely, leaning against the wall. Heracles noted a distinct lack of his own siblings. He'd been the only one in the family to escape exile, but his twin sister and younger brother? He'd not seen them in 10 years. One of his closest friends, Muhammad Hassan, had been exiled with them, but only Sadik was left to stand before him.

Sadik's smile fell.

"Hey, I know you got a bunch of questions and all, but we need to find cover. And I need to get this little man to sleep." He gestured at his chest, where a small boy nestled in his coat, arms around Sadik's neck, Sadik cradled him tenderly. The boy wore one of Sadik's old shirts as a tunic and was wrapped in a frayed blanket.

Heracles' nephew, he assumed. So, there was at least some family in the city.

"Hestia had the baby, then?"

Sadik nodded. "Just lost sight of the city when she went into labour. This is Kuzey."

"And where is she? And Stelios? And Hassan?"

Sadik shook his head.

"I see." A heavy silence fell between them.

Sadik cleared his throat. "Still, I'm here for a reason.