Prologue: Far Beyond Home.
All I could remember was the cold concrete floors, waking up inside a bunker.
breeze that seeps through my gears, my skin, even though I've felt it, and in common with it, this time it feels colder.
Life scattered around the bunkers, she was a jolly person, who lived in the biome tundra for all her life, that doesn't stop her for having such cold skin all the time, recruited from the riches, bathed by stinking animals was all she was done, working for the class of lascivious rich in the manors, beaten by tough love though not much so that the beautiful and elegant skin of youth still retain, where admirer lavish all around her, those time were no more, but no better. The cold region grew much more.
The manors was abandoned, that alone, slaves of the corrupt that left the mourning death, no one to put the body in graves nor grief, a soul worth less than a household plant, the house of the lavish god, giving the good and wealthy the rich and the corrupt power to beholden all around them and marking them slaves, god was that of being of just, that is that, just, all can assure that test is all his mere plan.
Getting recruited by people who found her by the dungeon abyss, they dug graves beside the now abandoned and ruined manor. They chant prayers of their gods and ask for her to join. She wants to believe that she made the right choice. She wanted to, she wanted to believe in her inner lies, living in ignorance that this is the life she wanted.
People are so kind, yet no one wishes to indulge in hers; no one to speak to, her history is like a charming candle, a single blow can blind the room. Though that doesn't stop her from living, as now, they're all dead. An airstrike of sorts? It was near perfect, the landing, the hitting, each of their bodies was nothing more but a burned pile of smoking flesh that was once controlled by the being inside, the soul. Now left to see the night sky one last.. She wants to screen, she wants to get help, but who's left? All she can muster. "Where's everyone?" That was her word, her legs that of sticks, and arms that of a bird, with her gears all around her, head with slight blood of sweets red, twinkles down to the rubble.
Unbuckling her gears, the plate carrier, taken a beaten by shrapnels of steel, it's done it's job and will be forever be abandon on the piles, the helmet it's still good, the quad goggle was crack, unable to function as is, protecting her eyes that of gray and red tints, it light vibrantly as she now only carried her rifle, it was a kalashnikov in style, trying to stand while rubbles of concrete mashed around her as fortune was just right, the concrete was small pebbles and thus was nothing heavy.
Walking out to the door ways with a dead man beside, it's seems like he didn't make the run, what a rugged individual, dying in the battlefield, a comradery type, he always talk about wanting to go beyond the graylink, and meeting the people of this world, oh how bliss he must have thought, the world isn't what he think as, but he's willing to sacrifice his body so his race can reach beyond the snow, a brave martyr is what you are, well he did talk about people here being extremely hot, I doubt my figures show the majority. I can see your skull, I can see you're boned, your head is no more, but just like a pile of rubbish beside our streets, I'm so thankful you and others are with me till this. Why am I so calm? Because I feel scared.
One cartridge is left, standing clear from the outside, covered in red snow. The trenches were made of wood; we build it with our strength, twenty people who worked on these trenches that lasted for only about twenty seconds. All that work just to be thrown, the thing we fought was more than a monster, it was quick and wicked.
Walking on the board with snow styrofoam feel as she crunches, as snow eats aways all the bodies burying it with nature, I heard my colleagues say we should stick to nature, though, I felt that nature was a bit cruel at best, and demonic horror at worst, what makes nature beautiful is that it all works out at the end, the population of prey increase, while the predator also does. Walking down the trench corridor, muttering her thoughts.
I do not know where I will go, but wherever I go, I will die here.
A light cast beside the crumbling wall, a flare was shot far to the skies, slowly descends, it wasn't far as the bang can be heard from the left, whoever left here, please don't leave me, again.
The skies, it was so bright, the red hollow light, the speaks of salvation, might be the definition of what they called it? So much so, it slowly descended with the snow continuing to pop out from the dark skies, there was no light, no moon, just darkness. as it is covered by the cloud of gas up above, trapping any resemblance of heat, I can feel the frozen reeks inside the suit, no matter how many layers, it will never keep me warm. Walking each step upon the snow, all the bodies around blended with the snow, as many piled and were mostly eaten by the tundra.
My heart, my lip, I don't feel oh so good, though, that should be a good thing, I'm alive, for how long? How I'm even alive to a point I can think, what makes the soul around me to wither, though as long as I can think believing in everyone around me to be safe, what a moronic and false statement that has become, I wish I pray be to them, I heard they follow a different god, though they sound some a liked, maybe, I can see there god soon after.
With continue walking, the lips now dry to the freezing airs, as then, the flairs now almost on top, it was as watching a full moon, as in front of her, a body, who's wearing a white jacket as others, but a patch on the side, as it reads "670", with a skull insignia, now their can truly become one with bones, just a layer of rotten meat that even flee won't touch as the cold roughs around.
The unmoving body, its left legs have been broken in half, with a plate carrier and a helmet, even with multiple layers, it won't do much, as he is wet, the ice bath was just a play. His eyes open to truth, or so he thought, a commander, he take care of her, the first person she's seen from the other world, though how little that mean, they found her on that forsake manors, with around her pilled of slaves who was unfortunate, children, man, mother, all around, how many did they have? I don't want to know, they're very powerful, but even then, they did a lot of important things for the public, the safety of workers, charity and helping of poors. I always laugh at the idea that they're good guys, though. Why do I have to be different from the public? Is my existence that of cruelty? I have you, you are here, lying there, how are you, the first person to treat me like a public figure, a citizen? Why now, all this time, it's now, you're going to die without me? Those groups get to live a new life, and yet we are here to suffer. I, what do you do to me, God?
with it looking to the gloom darkness that stares at her straightly, as then she suddenly drops down, with the gun she holds smashing on the snow, holding her hands outwards and on top of him. As she went on to speak, her mouth felt rough as the coarse touch upon her throat, her body slowed, as much as she struggled from the storm, speaking as her throat suffocated.
As she speaks, her voice is brittle and underpowered.
"Oh.. light of judgement.. all great knowing, by blessed by heart and souls, heal the wound of the undead, and revert the"
As such, the pain in her mind coursed through, with high tension of headache up to the corner, with her nerves all over feeling a burning electric shock, the pain sank her.
With 670, he used the energy of one self, pushed her arms away with his last energy, and his eyes were left there, stoic and unmoving.
Is this the sign of god? My whole existence is just so cruel, yet you gave me something to indulge, someone to be with, someone to love, and now you strip it away like last time, what a delusional,
You! What does it mean to begin with? I'm here alone, and you're here watching my every step. Whyy? Why are you so cruel? I thought you knew everyone, you know everything, and between you and you know everyone more than themselves, can you feel my pain? Are you indulging in the soul you've taken from me? I can't blame anyone. If I speak out, I might not be in your grace, but this outrageous, or so I thought, quiet down is the best option as always?
Just be a doll, a muppet, that's what I am, I should never be here, if I could, I want to escape this body, and go to another which has a better life than this so I can live out more, but that's just not going to happen, I can't feel my body, it's shaken, It's too cold.
Thought into the air and that's everything; all of the body is gone, the blue light starts to bleak and the sky is getting darker.
She paced to pick up the gun, then, shifting the safety of the Kalashnikov-style rifle, she quickly aimed for the one she hates, closing her eyes, the madness persists in her view, though shallow with wind cascades around her, though tangled and destroyed, the reasoning cunning ways, she wishes her deed to be in vain.
The radio sounds louder and louder, and a voice appears in her ear.
"This is C:7 Helcot 05-2 Smith Drockut. We received a distress signal. Copy company 63?"
Her breath and the whistling wind were all he heard, chartered mind on the abyssal, throbbing heart as it felt about to self-destruct. The rifle dropped, and she stood up to all her comrades. All her memories will last. Picking up the radio on her waist, what balance and reality. All she can think of is...
"This is Helios-Echo, a response to our distress signal. Code 999."
As all unfolds, she walks beside the concrete away from the cold, lying down on the hot concrete and closing to dusk, the cold weather getting bizarre, her mind in a pile of lines, with the smell of monsters, the smell of a magic, the smell that can be remembered for eternity for her.
-"I wish."...
Even though her heart has been stepped on.
"I will"
-"Save you…"
Even if at times I stumble,
It's so cold, it's so cold, it's so cold, but.
I will save you, I will save all of you, I will kill them, I will avenge you all, I will try to be of better use to everyone.
All around him are convicts of public and society, rapist, drug addicts, killers, gang members, hitmen, and war criminals, being friends with foes who will walk to hell. This cell is your safe zone, stay in this crooked cell, on your unclean bed that is stained with the water of salts.
No matter how I dwindle about, I can always hear the voice that ruptures my mind. I always wonder how, no matter how much nobody acknowledges what I've done, what I've worked upon, no matter that, why do I still love you? Every single eye glare, every single silence of ours, it hurts, truly.
I've always wondered how you shed tears in front of my eyes, on me, to me.
Dwindling in the cracked cell, what's life of mere man was now that of soulless form, that of tarnish delinquent on those charming cold night, edge rebars on the cage that of animals, wall was smear with smells of the inert, a fool lifestyle that make that of poors fletch in grave gratitude for slumbering by the streets of Kiev, he was that of man who was young, quiet and very kinds, that doesn't work in the place such this, harsh and cold, that doesn't work, you're kindness are not welcome. Bonobos live in the lavish of love, yet there's closer to extinction than the breather of violence that of chimp, god tarnish who's so kind, tested in the rotten field that was shed blood and dying carcasses of whose love one not in mourn but that dying in the ditch was probably better, living in this cell is mere fraction of the deposition he was in the tunnels, aimlessly walking like deers, while metal bird always watching and looking dreadly all around.
Inside the jail, there lay, looking down on the concrete floors with many cracks, in a yellow jumpsuit as it has a number beside him, so that of animal stocks, withsomes stain on his nose, a leftover blood from his breathing that of a rabid animal, twisted mouth and quiet. He can't quite remember his past, his mind slowly eating itself. Who was he? What was his name?
The boots sound heavy, and it's not alone, as then, an armed guard appears, with a taser to the side, pepper spray and a pistol, ready to kill, looking down upon me. The guards looking inside the cells, lie a man with no destiny, there with two more guards comes to the cells, while him dwindling inside his imagination. Guard stands firm and, with elegance and fashion, reads.
"Mr Mikhail, please look up," his voice stoic and calm, as mikhail silence, in a trance by the grey floors with many little dots of imperfection.
He says, in the same voice.
"Your new codename will be Lite, keep it at that" with one of the guards opening the steal doors where a man was approaching to the guards, Lite looking slightly in front of him as see a man in a white collar with the guards standby, the white suit get inside the cells while two of the guards join on boards, the other one sitting outsides. Looking at him, the material is elegant in quality, in navy blue, with the right fit. The man in a suit was walking up towards Lite, the guards holding their firearms ready for any alteration. The man approaches with a bag on the right hand, placing it on the dirty floor, which causes debris to pollute some of the air. Then, he squats down on the levels of Lite.
Lite looks back at his face, his eyes are bright in white with a tint of glow inside, Lite's pupils dilate upon seeing his bright eyes. Maybe seeing red eyes is what you call delusion in wars, maybe you got a few bad dreams. Either way, his breathing can be heard loudly.
The man smiled and filled the air with a fake scent of lovely lies, his stylish looks and hair, as he spoke elegantly.
"Lite, what did you encounter when you met the person in the Luhansk theatre?" with him, quietly waiting for a response, but nothing appears, just looking down as an obedient dog.
His smile stops, but the aura within feels warmer.
" You found an anomaly, a person who broke our laws. What do you think of that? Your squad"
Lite Looking upon him straight, his eyes were dark brown and empty, his eyebags were as big as his eyelids, tired and empty, his voice rough yet stiff, with words coming on his lips.
"Fuck off.."
Cutting the bridge is the first step of total rationalisation.
That's all the heard of Lite, a word so short, his mouth moving erratically, shaking my own words. The man, seeing his responses, lowered his eyes towards the floor,
"We have an Offer for you. I heard that your condition has worsened, Mr Lite.
The scan showed there was no tumour, nor anything of concern, but the doctors that were there said you were as if 'Ripping inside out.' Your memory is worsening day by day, but while we have no name for this condition, we wish to invite you to a clinical trial." The man speaks mildly with no intentions for provocative nor warm, as if water flows on the relaxing forest rivers. Lite, breathing flows with the rivers around him, the man speaks.
"It's your choice, of course, Mr Lite, but this trial requires something in your service to work for us. You will get a second chance, and once you're done, you can leave for good and healthy. How sound, just a small favour we ask."
Lite feels uneasy, his throat now less dense than before and his palm sweats with his replies for help.
" Yes."
The man stood up, with his face now tilted in smiles, as now, calm and numb all over, the feeling of rivers devoid of thoughts, sleepiness is attracted by the situation. Oh, his arm is already around my neck.