Chapter 1: Sun-Kissed Chaos
The air was thick with the smell of ripening peaches in Haven. There were hedge rows of fruit trees along property lines, leaves whispered secrets to one another on the gentle wind. Behind them was a vegetable garden, green and lush with the riches of having more than a sufficiency, the tomatoes in ordered ranks full and ripe with readiness, green acres of plenty, and running vines of squash bearing witness to uncontrolled ardor. Chickens scratched at the earth, interspersed with now and again a far-off honking of geese and a distant lowing of contented cattle filled the day with a serene atmosphere.
In the center was Haven, a white-painted, three-story house sparkling in the late afternoon sun. It was plain but solid and unadorned, with big windows to let in the light and a veranda that curved around the front of it, asking callers to come on in and stay a while.
From across the broad front lawn, a veritable whirlwind of happy sound was coming. A group of kids, ranging from toddlers to teens, played a raucous game of tag. Their unadulterated, untainted laughter assaulted the air, scattering the final hint of shade. One little wild boy with a raven tangle of unbrushed black hair skipped the game at the fast, airy clip of a squirrel, and a girl with waist-long braids took out players one by one, her face rosy with mischief.
This was Haven, an orphanage, a sanctuary, a home. It wasn't brick and mortar; it was a haven constructed of strength, love, and the unbreakable heart of Yuri.
Chapter 2: Shadows at the Gate
The serene ambiance was abruptly disturbed by a sleek black sedan before the central wrought-iron gate on the property. Three men alighted, their suits dark to provide contrast to the rainbow colors that splashed the scenery. The eyes were vacant, the faces cold and expressionless.
Standing like a stick near the doorway, Yuri had power emanating from her very presence almost as if radiating. She clenched fists in metal and listened as they swore oaths, every word strengthening and hardening her further.
A tough woman warped by hardship; she was. Tough, chiseled features lent depth to the facial bones, but dark brown hazel in her eyes shone with tough guardian's flame now. Darkened hair was knotted in severe braid back from her shoulders, and rough-worn overalls bore witness to hard labor spent on the soil.
"Yuri," the leader of the men, snarling in disdain, spat the name like a curse. "You are nothing. You and these children will have to leave the premises within a month's time. This land will be ours, sooner or later."
Yuri's knuckles were white on the iron. "This is an orphanage," she said harshly, low and unyielding. "For war children. I own the land. I built it myself, brick by brick, with these two hands. No one, and I mean no one, will ever be able to take it from me."
Her face altered. The smoothness that would normally render her wrinkles curved and oval in shape was firm as ice, with glacial determination on the brink of rage. The men, battle-hardened though they were, involuntarily took a step back, for there was something in Yuri’s eyes, something wild and primitive, that awed them.
The man, evidently angered at her defiance, smiled. "Just keep this in mind, Yuri," he continued, the voice becoming even colder. "Accidents happens every day."
He strolled across to his companions, and they walked and walked away towards the automobile, its motor roaring back to life as it turned around the bend, Yuri remained by the door, alone, peach juice now bitter on the backwash of fear.
Chapter 3: War Kids
Yuri stood and watched as the car left, her hand trembling. She moved to the side wall to catch her breath and check herself, reminding herself to calm down. She was not going to let them get to her today. Today or ever.
She cast one look back over her shoulder at Haven, the children on the lawn playing and laughing. They were all wounded with their own histories of tragedy and trauma. They were the "war kids," the forgotten casualties of a war that had devastated their country, left them without a family and unguarded.
There was Mara, the shy little girl with the angelic voice whose entire family were destroyed in an explosion. And Dimitri, the rugged self-reliant boy found in the streets, holding a bloody photo of his parents. And little Anya, who hadn't made a sound since she witnessed the atrocities which took childhood away from her.
Yuri had brought them all together, each and every one of them, from refugee camps, devastated rubble, and abandoned alleys of a shattered country. She'd given them home, family, hope to live. Yuri and Rui taught them how to laugh, how to trust, how to believe in the promise of tomorrow.
She couldn't fail them. She wouldn't.
She knew these men worked for Makai, an avaricious developer who want land at any cost. His sights were set on Haven, and its fertile soil, for one of his projects. He would stop at nothing to get it.
Chapter 4: Iron Gates and Whispered Fears
Dust churned around the wheels of a black military vehicle as it drew up before the iron gates. They stood, black and gilt, a jarring note of beauty in the abandoned landscape. Rui came forward.
"Is something wrong?" Her voice was gentle, questioning.
Yuri nodding, looking at the main building in the distance. "It will be all right, Rui. Don't worry."
The words rang hollow even in her own ears. Worry was a constant shadow now. She pushed open the gate with a wearily sighed effort, rusty hinges shrieking loudly in protest. Rui trailed behind her, steps light and almost submissive.
As they walked, a boy not more than eight leapt off the other side of a massive tree. He skidded to a stop, his eyes huge with almost-animal terror. Yuri reached instinctively into her pocket and dragged out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. The lighter closure snapped shut too quickly, the flame an insane spark in the dying light of day. She drew long and deep, the nicotine a calming balm to her frazzled nerves.
She did not back away, but she could sense the boy's eyes burning the back of her neck.
Rui stopped. She sat down, smiling at the boy. "Okay, sweetie?"
He flinched, his eyes darting first to Yuri's retreating back and then to Rui's smile. Then, just barely audible in his voice, a whisper of one, he whispered, "She is scary."
Rui's smile wavered, a momentary look of sadness crossing her face. Her arms tightened around the boy. "She is just tired. Don't worry."
Chapter 5: Starlight and Cigarettes
Night had fallen and darkness was spreading over the building. Only the porch in front was lighted, the wide one facing outwards, where Yuri was sitting in a very old-fashioned chair. The cigarette was glowing with the light of a tiny red coal, the tendril of smoke curling into the wide expanse of starry skies.
It was a burden, its weight and its history. It was meant to be a refuge, a sanctuary of children whose lives had been destroyed by war and poverty. Somewhere along the way, it became more, something richer.
A small boy in the doorway regarded her, his face pale in the dying light, his eyes dark with fear and awe.
Yuri looked at him, stern and determined eyes. "What?" she interrupted curt, a one-word sentence with a heavy load that even she had to abandon.
The boy flinched, his eyes widening in dismay. Not a word was said, and he turned on his heel and vanished into the night, lost in the maze of corridors in the building.
Yuri winced, a trickle of guilt running down her breast. She did not want to be so obtuse, but vulnerability and terror in children had her eyes welling up for the same on her own. It always led her to speculate about why the children were there, what trauma they were trying to recover from.
Chapter 6: Shared Burden
Rui walked softly, her feet not breaking the silence of the night. She trailed behind Yuri for a time, her figure a silent burden in the dark.
Yuri didn't glance over her shoulder, but she knew Rui was trailing behind her. She took another drag on the cigarette, the smoke burning at the back of her throat.
"It's years since we've come here, all right. After all this commotion," Yuri growled and limped. "I just. I want to do something for the kids."
The desperation had been that all-consuming, even to herself. She had fought on behalf of the children, giving everything for them. And now she was questioning whether or not she was doing more harm than good. Her own demons were hiding in the darker recesses of her mind, biding their time only to consume the very same children that she had attempted to rescue.
Rui placed a soothing hand on Yuri's shoulder. Her hand was warm and comforting. "I know."
It was an acknowledgement, and it was all their past, their pain, and their survival. Rui recognized the devils that tortured Yuri, the ghosts that tugged at her very soul. She recognized the burden Yuri carried, the shame and pain that suffocated her.
"We will help them, Yuri," Rui asserted, her tone unyielding, fierce. "We will help them together."
Yuri shut her eyes, and the words of Rui ran through her. It was a broken comfort, an intangible hope amidst overwhelming desolation. But then it was all she had.
At that moment, under the boundless expanse of star-filled sky, it was enough.
Chapter 7: Stories
The following days were a sort of routine. Rui tended to the children with kind goodness, nursing their body and soul wounds, mending them with words and soft hands. She built a sanctuary of play and books where they could laugh and play and not notice the horror of their recent past.
Yuri, the otherwise repressed force of nature, did the more practical things – fixing broken windows, leaking ceilings, shoring up the building. She said nothing to the children, nothing at all, in fact, but her ever-present watchful eyes said something about a caretaking vigil following them at arm's length.
One afternoon, when she was patching a hole in the roof, Yuri overheard her name being whispered. She looked down and found the little boy who had told her she was scary standing at the foot of the ladder.
He just stood there, his toes scuffing the ground. "Miss Yuri?"
She came down stiffly and jerkily. She was not used to being addressed.
"What is it?" she snarled.
The boy wriggled, his eyes. "Miss Rui. she said you used to be a soldier."
Yuri's jaw snapped shut. The past was dangerous ground, one she kept rigorously sealed away. "That was a long time ago."
He said. “You rescued people."
Yuri gazed at the boy, really gazed at him, for the first time. Saw the hope in his eyes, the fear of being heard.
"Sometimes," she breathed, voice a little softer.
"Sometimes I did."
"Miss Rui said… she said that we all have something to say."
Yuri gazed at the boy, the wide-eyed innocence and stubborn curiosity. Maybe he was right. Maybe they were all.
"Your name?" she asked.
"Leo," he said.
"Ah, Leo," Yuri said with a smile on her lips, "perhaps one day I will tell you my story. But at least for now, let us say that I have come to keep you safe."
Chapter 8: The Seeds of Trust
The first visit to Leo opened the last door of the self-imposed isolation of Yuri to the children. She emerged reluctantly and slowly from her shell like a reptile from its hide.
She started to help with domestic work, swabbing kitchen floor and care for the little garden Rui labored with so much patience. She even started to read to the small children, her voice surprisingly kind to read tale of braveness and searches.
The children themselves began to behave toward her differently. Fearfulness swept from face steadily gave way to questioning look, then to increasingly building trust.
Later that night, on the porch, Leo approach with a worn out teddy bear.
"Miss Yuri?" in so tiny a voice.
Yuri met his eyes through smoke and lip, face relaxing. "What do you want, Leo?"
"Will you… can you read me a story?"
Yuri hesitated. She didn't do fairy tales. Her own life was one she kept shut tight, locked behind mountains of hurt and silence.
But glimpsing the spark of light in Leo's eyes, she was unable to say no.
She drew a cigarette into lungs, smoke curling around the stars.
"Okay, Leo," she sighed reluctantly. "I'll tell you a story. It's not very happy, though."
She told of a warrior, a forgotten and abandoned soldier in one barren world, fighting his way back toward the light. She did not circumvent, avoided not the darkness, but neither did she ridicule the need for hope, for survival, or for the unbreakable human heart.
As she read, Leo sat stunned with wonder, his eyes filled with curiosity. When she finished, he looked at her, his face serious.
"Is that you, Miss Yuri?"
Yuri hesitated. "Maybe," she said. "A part of me, perhaps."
Leo hugged his teddy bear. "I'm glad you're here, Miss Yuri."
Yuri smiled, a soft, wide smile that overran her eyes. "Me too, Leo. Me too."
Chapter 9: Sun-Kissed Earth and Whispered Laughter
Cool morning breeze fresh, scent of damp earth and blooming vegetables flowers. Yuri weeding around a row of baby tomatoes. The sun, a wide belt of golden light, stroked the bony shoulder blades of her back as she hummed a song inspired completely from the peaceful sanctuary that she had established for the children and for herself in this valley.
Within the walls of living stone, there was laughter as soft as a brook. Rui, her heart aglow with the nearly unearthly calm, was teaching children about astronomy. Her voice, sweet and calm, created a vivid image of the constellations and stars. The children, a ragtag collection of rescue orphans, hung in a listening trance.
Yuri looked up at her and smiled. On her own stubborn side there was always something and on Rui's unearthly beauty and calm always amaze her. They were strange bedfellows, these two creatures of the same battered ground, now bound to one another by shared purpose: keeping in the hearts of these children alight the pure flame of hope.
Suddenly the earth under Yuri’s feet gave way. A screaming rending crash of sound, the beast tearing sound. Yuri had been shoved off balance, her ears ringing, her eyes blurring over.
Horror for an instant, she leapt to her feet, her heart thudding against her breast.
"Rui! Take the children to the safety area!" she bellowed, her tight and raspy scream slicing through the still-ringing blasts of the explosion.
Pandemonium engulfed the house. The pale faces of the children twisted into a cacophony of screams as their fragile world collapsed around them.
Chapter 10: An Angel in the Machine
Her face burning with instant shock, Rui moved with godlike speed. She lifted a hand, the pencil-thin white fingers shining pale in the dirty air. Her voice, pitched to a new note of resolve, was even and level.
"Calm down, everyone," she said, smiling reassuringly, a calming rock in the tempest to come. "It's okay. Just come with me."
The kids, drawn by the strong magnet of her composure, exhausted themselves into silence. No one cried anymore, and this hopeful uncertainty flowed through Rui like moths to fire.
She took them down the rear of the house in a rush but concealed herself, awkwardly and in a hurry, down into the cold gloom of the basement. Down rough flights of stone stairs they went out of contact into the cold darkness of the basement. The explosion had stunned Yuri and she was out in the garden, her own belly roiling with cramping fear. She knew the basement was safe.
Rui reached her hand to the back of the basement. It was rough, unfinished stone, and unyielding. But she reached farther, her hand an eyelash away from the stone. From her hand came warm, golden light, a glowing, iridescent light that lit up the wall.
The stone glimmered, then hummed with a low, bass tone. There was a flat, metallic robot voice echoing off the close space.
"Verification complete."
The wall groaned and half gave way, and in its back was a metal door.
"Get in everyone," commanded Rui, bossily.
Lights glowed to show a room filled with elaborate equipment. Wires hung from walls, consoles cascaded waterfalls of incomprehensible symbols, and the air vibrated with a thrum, a machine heartbeat.
Rui exploded into the room with a feral energy, her composed facade cracking to unleash a pent, bottled energy. She marched to the rear of the room and fell into a massive, curving chair that seemed to lean to swallow her.
A small, black helmet fell from the ceiling to settle on her head. Her face was obscured behind the smooth, dark hood.
"Begin interface protocol. Code Gamma," she ordered, her own voice somewhat strained from the operations of her helmet.
The robot voice was prompt. "Welcome back, Master."
"Yuri, where the devil are you?"
There was a two-second pause, occupied only by the wail of machinery. The robot voice announced, "Interface complete."
A holographic image, a woman made of strobing light, coalesced at Rui's elbow. Its face was aristocratic and chiseled, its eyes afire with almost-cold passion.
The hologram addressed Rui, its voice an echo of hers but with calculating chill. "Activating surveillance system.. Full spectrum."
Rui's voice trembling with badly suppressed fear, she cried out again, "Yuri, where are you?"
On the side screen, a humanlike figure standing next to explosion site looking at the distance, Rui feeling relief “There you are”
The metallic voice responded then, "Military vehicle leaving the sector. Should I engage?"
Rui's desperate and nervous but ultimately firm voice responded, "No. Let Yuri deal with them."
Chapter 11: Echoes of the Past
Yuri was torn, warring emotions battling in her head. Relief that the children were Ok, horror at the current events, and a primitive fear in the back of her head that the life they had struggled so hard to build would be ripped from them.
Rui was more than a good, competent instructor. She was something else. Something powerful.
The military truck, a black monolith on rubber tires, already ripping the tightly wound mountain road asunder. Yuri breathed deeply, boiling down all lessons, all experience, every outraged rightful indignation at keeping the children alive, into unshakeable determination.
Chapter 12: Dust and Deceit
Taillights of big, black military truck disappear into heat haze on broken-down highway. Five men's healthy laughter filled the truck with cigarettes and bargain-basement whiskey scent. Greasy mats of sweat-dampened hair stuck to foreheads, as did the same faint, humming bulb that dangled above. "I bet they're shaking now," bellowed a fat man named Rocco, his gut straining buttons off his faded blue denim shirt. He pounded his meaty hand on his knee, beer bottles clinked on the floor of the truck. Vince, weasel-jaw, snorted and wiped across chin a thread of spittle. "A bubble of gas burst, something that can happen to anyone. Never mind here, guys! A teensy weensy patch of natural smoldering." He laughed again and initiated a new laugh track.
They were a scavenging crew, bottom-fishing off the scum of existence in the wasteland of despair. The "gas pocket explosion," had blown part of the orphanage, this happened to individuals who had refused to sell out their property to Rocco's boss, an influent individual who preferred thing to be…simple.
The black military truck, racing down the dirt road, its big tires churning up a cloud of dust that momentarily blinded it. Barry clutched the wheel, knuckles white as the moon. Five years he'd been doing it, running Rocco's dirty errands. Guilt gnawed at him, an open sore that no whiskey could anesthetize.
A sickening crunch, a gut-wrenching heap of metal onto something. The truck swerved out of control, Barry struggling to get it onto the road. For a fleeting moment, he was certain that he was going to lose it, into the ditch. He did succeed in getting the car onto the road but the crash winded him.
"Can't you drive, idiot?" The large bully crammed in the tailgate of the truck, Marco and Frankie, the other two muscle men, yelled.
Barry was sitting oddly. Drugged out. He'd not even been aware. What in the devil have I struck?
"Hey, man, do you feel all right?" Marco yelled out, with a small ray of concern creeping in.
Nothing.
Panic in the rear of the truck. They had all ridden with Barry a dozen times or more. He was normally a voluble, if blasphemous, driver. Silence did not bode well.
Tony, hot-headed as he was, crossed his arms over his chest and paced the small sliding window that divided the cabin from the bed. He tore it open, leaning into the gloom within.
His scream was muffled.
Seated in the middle of the dark, foreboding glow of the dashboard was Barry. Or what was left of Barry. He was covered from head to toe in a wet, throbbing, black jelly-like material. It clung to him like a second skin, even his face, so that only a vague impression of a human shape could be discerned. The others recoiled from him in horror, their faces contorted in a revulsion.
"What in the name of.!!!" Frankie whispered, his voice barely low.
No one had time to respond before a small chunk of the jelly-like substance detached from Barry's head and shot out the open window. It slapped Tony in the face.
He screamed. Naked, bestial scream of pain and terror. The black substance gushed, over his face, his eyes, his mouth. He clawed at his infected flesh blindly, but uselessly. The gelatin was impenetrable.
The truck stopped, the engine wheezing and coughing like a man in death. It stopped in the middle of the deserted highway.
Inside, the screams became concentrated and louder, merging into a single ear-shattering wail of agony. The other men twisted and writhed, as the black, tar-like substance – the Soul Eater, they had named it – devoured them from the inside out.
Silence.
The truck was stationary, suffused with the reddening gold of the setting sun. A silence lay over the grounds, a silence that was almost tangible, that vibrated through the entire area.
Slowly, inevitably, the entire truck began to rock. The shiny black, jelly-like material shifted, flowing over the metal body, the rubber tires, the glass windows. A slow, mechanical motion, rolling a photograph back into existence.
The entire truck was engulfed by the glossy black material in an instant. The blob then receded. It felt back in on itself, pulling back, coating everything in its withdrawal.
It was gone in the time it took to breathe. No truck, no bodies, no sign anything had ever existed. A scorch mark of charred earth and the bitter tang of ozone on the air.
Chapter 13: Screen Savior
The flickering glow of the monitor painted Rui’s face in shades of neon blue and pulsating red. On the screen, a black truck engulfed on black goo. A devilish smile stretched across her lips, a stark contrast to the pandemonium unfolding on her watch. It was a dance of destruction, a macabre waltz that only she seemed to truly appreciate.
"Whooa," she exhaled, her voice a little above the generators roaring to life as they energized the Safe Zone. "She's really getting creative now."
Her cuff was tugged by a small hand. Rui frowned down and shook her head once more. A seven-year-old looked up at her with questions-filled gray eyes, a querying expression on her scrunched-up face.
The smile vanished, replaced by an almost instantaneous tenderness. It was a breathtaking transformation. The cold strategist, the grim observer, dissolved, leaving only a protector.
“Everything is okay, little one,” Rui said, her voice now a soothing balm. She knelt, bringing herself down to the girl’s level. “Everything is just fine. We’re just waiting for Yuri to arrive. She’ll tell us everything is alright.”
She smoothed the girl's black hair with a tender hand. The pinched faces of the children eased. Rui saw that the children leaned on Yuri. On her roughness, on her bluntness, on the raw power of her personality. Yuri was the North Star of the children.
And the Safe Zone's huge steel gates creaked open, their hydraulics whispering low. Yuri stumbled through them, her face pale bone hue beneath a fine layer of dust. A small stream of blood flowed out of one temple, intermingling with that tangle of tight black hair.
"Is everyone all right?" Her own voice, hoarse and strained as it was, was low and authoritative.
Rui rose, her eyes scanning Yuri’s form for more hidden injuries. “We’re okay. What about you…?”
Yuri offered a lopsided grin, flashing a thumbs up. “It needs more than that to hurt me.”
She reached into the breast pocket of her worn leather jacket, fumbling for a cigarette. She finally wrestled one free, placed it between her lips, and… snapped it in half.
A ripple of laughter erupted from the group of children huddling near the back of the room. Yuri’s face immediately softened. She was, despite the hardened exterior, fiercely protective of these kids.
“Alright, alright,” she chuckled, tossing the broken cigarette into a nearby bin. “Guess I’ll stick to chewing on nails for now.”
Rui watched the exchange with tightly composed face. Yuri was the storm, the barrier between the brutality of the world and the humanity of the world. And Rui, Rui was the strategist, the architect, the invisible guardian who made that barrier invincible.
Chapter 14: Whispers of Gas
The earth was suffocated beneath metal and ash that hung in the air. Yuri had reached the rim of the crater, looking out into the scorched remains. The devastation stretched out. Trees were uprooted, and a cloud of dust hung over the wreckage.
"They're attempting to blame it on a 'gas' pocket," Rui said her voice even as she stood beside Yuri.
Yuri didn't even look her way. Her gaze continued to sweep the destruction.
"A gas pocket that just so happens to blow in the same exact location our farm center just happens to be in. How convenient." She spat for emphasis.
"Did you get your damage report?" Yuri said sourly.
Rui achieved a weak smile, unnoticed. "Nothing serious. We can fix it in two or three days, crop damage too."
Yuri's eyes did at last land on Rui, a mixture of relief and weary resignation in them. "I suppose we will just have to steel ourselves for more…unwanted calls."
She hesitated, then took a nearly silent breath, her voice a low whisper that hardly carried. "Are the children asleep?"
Rui nodded, her head tilted, a soft little nod.
"Good," Yuri said to her, and turned away from the crater once again. "Let them sleep."
Chapter 15: The Safe Zone and the Unsafe World
The orphanage was a paradox. Sanctuary at the jaws of hell. Part bunker, part farm, part school, part orphanage. A testament to will, a stubborn refusal in the face of creeping darkness.
All of which Rui had accounted for: the labyrinth of the tunnel system, the sealed loop, the cutting-edge security protocols. She had not accounted for anything when they constructed this sanctuary, this fragile bubble of hope in an insane world.
The rest of the world outside would not move.
No one knew where it started. Rumor: environmental disaster, nuclear war, genetically engineered virus that got out of control. Truth was entombed in the trash heap of history beneath disinformation and misinformation. All that one was left with was a shattered world, ruled by warlords, bandits, and scavengers of dead governments.
Chapter 16: Scars and Secrets
Later that evening, Rui had gone, and Yuri was by herself in the laboratory, the gentle hum of artificial lighting providing pale light on her features. She walked among the seedlings, the gentle tap of her fingers on a woman who could shatter bone with as little as bare hands.
"Couldn't sleep?"
Yuri's gaze darted up, the slight upward curve of the smile on her lips subtle.
"Too much thinking. And too much coffee."
"We'll be fine," Rui said. "I've already activated the countermeasures."
There was silence.
Yuri gazed out at the seedlings. "These children… they're everything. They're the future. We have to protect them, no matter what."
"I know," Rui whispered. "And we will."
There was silence for a long time, broken only by the soft whine of the systems.
And Yuri spoke again, hardly audible. "Rui… do you ever… regret it?"
The face of depression came over Rui. The flicker of light so freely offered to the children faltered and died, replaced by one of stern repression instead. "Regret what?"
Yuri towered over Rui. "Regret what we did to survive. What we lost."
Rui moved back, her gaze on the row of seedlings. "No regrets, Yuri. Not yet. We did what we had to do."
The reality was that both women were injured, body and spirit, by what they witnessed and did. Pain that hurt more than any wound. And secrets too shameful to be uttered.
Chapter 17: Awakening
The echo of Yuri's feet on the floor was the sole sound courageous enough to profane the tension of the morning quiet. "It’s time to work…" she snarled, her voice more digital than human showed part of her past. She moved obstinately, a harsh scrape of air across the fear simmering on the periphery of her awareness. The Safe Zone, the small warm bubble of technological progress in a general wasteland, was only temporarily, but hanging over it was the specter of war, an invisible arm from which she never had the power to free herself.
She headed in the direction of the large structure where her room of transformation, her room of vulnerability and recovery, pain and empowerment, was located. Rui followed behind her, her own face, a tempest of suppressed worry. The lines around her eyes, usually softened by compassion, were now etched severely by disapproval and worry.
Yuri stayed outside. She ritually removed her attire slowly, the robes dropping to the ground. Rui, gritting her teeth tightly, carefully picked up the fallen attire, her body kept low and compact. Every robe she picked up was a weight, a memory that this war was paid for at a savage cost.
Beneath the fabric lay the truth. Yuri’s body was a battlefield, a testament to the brutal realities of the conflict. Gone were the soft curves of flesh and bone. Instead, a complex lattice of metal and ceramic, covered in a black gelatinous goo, more robotic skeleton than human, was revealed. Only her head, crowned with a cascade of dark hair, remained recognizably human, a beacon of the woman she once was.
As she stepped onto the disk platform in the center of the room, a wave of nausea swept through her. A reminder of the price she need to pay for survival. The vibrating power of the platform sensed her presence, feeling its purpose.
A computer voice, emotionless and dry, from across the room. "Welcome home, Commander. How can I help?"
Yuri braced herself and drew a deep breath. "Nanophotochromic armor plates."
"Command received," the electronic voice responded with a dead tone. "Initializing protocol - Nano photochromic armor plates."
The air seemed to vibrate with energy. Sinister, gleaming metal arms, a fringe of razor micro-needles, extruded from hidden apertures in the walls. Their needle-tipped extremities, with an unspeakable precision, closed in on Yuri. The needles nipping into the lines of her artificial bones with a seam of burning pinpricks.
A light blinding on the stage, and Yuri fell back into a leaky shadow. She was ripped asunder into a cry muffled within her own womb, as whiplashing fire agony seared down her tracts of nerve tissue, bitter reminder of how much humanness still clung.
Rui was rigid, clenched fists held in her hands. The pain that leaked from Yuri was there, pressing on them, choking on her heart. She knew exactly what this did to Yuri, how it drained everything out of her, consumed who she is. She knew exactly that otherwise, Yuri would not survive.
Light withdrew and there was Yuri. Robot arms withdrew, bent along walls as stealthily as they had extended. The synthesized voice, still dead, mumbled, "Procedure complete."
Yuri’s body was now a mosaic of shimmering, crystalline facets. Tiny, intricate crystals, barely visible to the naked eye, covered every inch of her mechanical frame. They pulsed with an inner light, shifting and adapting to the surrounding environment, a chameleon-like armor that rendered her virtually invisible against any background.
She did the shoulder roll. The new armor was tighter, heavier, but more durable, stronger. An evil that was necessary.
Rui sank back into the chair, setting aside her anger for the moment on a tide of fear. She held out some clean clothes, her hand hovering, reluctant.
Yuri accepted the uniform, her gaze meeting Rui's. Her soft voice, her computerized lip, beneath there was a whisper of exhaustion. "We're ready," she vowed, but not for the mission ahead of them, no, for war to have a hold on a future to be lived.
Chapter 18: An End to Silence
The tenuous peace had settled over the orphanage like a ghostly pall. After-sun had been ripped from its grasp, left in the battered horizon a bruise of dusk. The children within, unaware of peril that lurked without, were starting their muted evening ritual. But beneath the night stole hidden destruction.
It started as a growl, low-grade boom that vibrated its way up your legs. It built, an intensification of the staccato beat of approaching cars. Eyeball headlights slashed the darkness, swerving toward the orphanage gate. It whipped into the wail of engines and tires as a convoy of military trucks and SUVs squealed to the curb.
Men emerged, ugly faces and deadliness of intent. Tough men in grimy uniforms and the sulky threat of mercenaries. They were accompanied by a massive armored truck, so big that it cast a long, foreboding shadow. The back door groaned open, and a man alighted, taking space with his sheer size.
He was a giant of a man squeezed into an inflation suit to bursting. His was a landscape of flesh and ego, the tiny bead-like eyes peering out of wrinkles of stretched cheeks. There were rings on all of his fingers, his bull's neck being encircled by a puffed-out gold chain. This was Makai.
Yuri rested against the door, a lone and dark shape against the radiating light which poured through the orphanage windows, light that defined the edges of her face. She leaned backward, indolently, her hand vanished in the flesh of her hip, a gentle smile on her lips. She was a frail woman, but in the stance she assumed was condensed strength, behind the starved-eyed but still eyes, which contradicted her skeletal frame.
"How can I help you?" she said, her voice inanely level and polite.
Makai entered the clearing, his stomach sinking into the gravel with every step in his designer boots. "I'm Makai, the owner of these lands. I was informed there'd been an accident here, an explosion. I've come to help."
Yuri's grin didn't waver. "You can see all is well here. You must have been confused, I believe."
Makai's smile took on a reddish hue, his pinprick little eyes slanting in annoyance. He menacingly loomed over one of his goons with venom, and the man shifted uncomfortably. Makai pushed onto his face a semblance of a smile, the smile a distorted caricature. "So this would be the time to inform you that I'll be purchasing this building."
Yuri laughed. "I built it myself with these two hands. No one, and I mean no one, is gonna take it from me. Over my dead body."
The smile was wiped from Makai's face, reptilian cold glint moving in. "As you would wish." Retching his hand back with a movement everyone else avoided.
Men attacked, a flurry of fury pounding against the metal door. They kicked and head-butted, grabbed onto whatever they could find to hold – pipes, pieces of rock – and slammed into the door. The cacophony of sound rang through the air as pipe clanged on pipe, punctuated by the yells of the attackers.
Makai watched the attack for some time, his lips curled in a sadistic grin. He walked towards his armored truck. He spoke to the lone man next to the truck, his voice sadistic and bitter. "I will be waiting for the good news."
The truck's engine growled, and the truck backed away slowly.
Yuri whirled and tap at her left ear, trying an infinitesimally small, invisible implant there. She screamed. "Rui, move the children to the safe zone and put them in stasis. Now!"
The gate shrieked and wailed beneath battering impacts. It blew apart and ruptured at the exact moment, and the thugs invaded the grounds. They burst into the yard, guns out, yelling profanities.
Yuri stood on the doorway of the building, tense muscles, seared eyes. "I'll offer you one option," she yelled above the melee. "Depart and never come back. I will forgive this intrusion."
They gazed at her in shock, appalled at her temerity. A volcano of laughter burst forth in the crowd. A scar-faced shoved his friends aside and stepped forward. "What can a woman do?" he sneered.
Yuri whispered tapping her ear once more. "Switch off the lights."
Rui came back from deep in the safe zone, her voice husky full of excitement. "Okay."
Darkness descent. There was only the beam of the headlights of the cars, these cast long shadows across the lawn. The goons lurched stumbling, their courage finally drained by the hour, sheer darkness.
Yuri in the doorway of the building, pale face against black. Her low, icy voice out of the dark. "I told you, to go away."
And she was lost to view.
A shout in the darkness, a rat-tat staccato of a gun.
Silence, apart from the rumble of the cars stationed there, nothing.
Silence again, broken screams, shots, then silence.
One of the goons, his nerves in shreds, jumped into one of the trucks and searched wildly for communications gear. He eventually found it, shaking in his hand, and put the receiver to his ear.
On the other end, in a well-lit tent a short distance away, four stout men were drinking and laughing loudly.
It was one of his own soldiers who had taken the communications unit. He steeled himself as screams and shots were mixed. Laughter in the tent ceased. Deep silence.
And then the last, gagging scream, "Help! Help me! No, no!"
Then silence.
A woman's voice, cold as ice, over the communications unit. "Go away."
Chapter 19: The Architect
Rui looked out at the wreckage on the security screens. Solid and indistinct, but a good view of the carnage on the other side of the walls. Her hands flew over the control boards, scanning the orphanage systems, ready to start a response to any intruder.
Rui was an orphan who had been there from the age of three. Yuri had had her very first group of students there, and she had been one of them. She had recognized something in her, a keen mind and a talent for technology, and she had fostered her. She now guarded the orphanage's secrets and was its benefactor.
The 'safe place' was securely beneath the main building, a nest of corridors and chambers all opening into one another, built by Yuri herself. The 'stasis' was a cryopod system that would be able to preserve the children alive for decades when there was an emergency. It had been years since it was last activated, but Rui did not have a shadow of a doubt at all that it was still functional.
She trusted Yuri, Rui knew her true nature. Yuri was no longer a woman. She was a force of nature, a protector, a warrior. She had revealed to her everything she was capable of, not only technology, but survival, loyalty and to protect the innocent.
Even she did not know. These men were uncivilized, well-armed. Could she, in fact, take care of all of them?
She set the thought aside, focusing only on her task. She trusted Yuri. This she owed the children to survive, regardless of anything.
She looked again at the screens. Yuri was a shadow, a dark form in the dark. She saw muzzle flashes, fleeting strips of intense combat of writhing bodies. There were fewer of them now.
But she knew it was far from finished. There were just too many of them left to annihilate. And she also knew suit man Makai would not let it go so easily.
She prepared for the next fight. Prepared to do whatever to protect the children, the orphanage, and the woman who had taken them in.
Chapter 20: Echoes in the Dark
The darkness became Yuri’s ally. She moved through the shadows like a phantom, a whisper of death in the night. Years of training, honed by necessity, had transformed her into a weapon. She knew every inch of the orphanage grounds, every shadow, every hiding place. She used the darkness to her advantage, ambushing her attackers one by one.
Her method was cold, merciless. A throat slash, a perfectly place bullet, a silent deadly take down. The girl was deadly and fast, super-naturally fast at least, lithe and gorgeous amidst the carnage.
She was not invulnerable, though. There were too many attackers, and they were too well-armed. Bullets screamed around her head, ripping through the air.
She clenched her teeth, hardened her heart against pain, grated the forefront with eyes. Save the orphanage. Save the children.
She battled the mood, turned their guns on themselves using the darkness to disorient them. She was a huntress home territory, prowling in the dark to stalk her prey.
She just wasn't going to risk losing it all. One wrong step, one hesitation, and it was all over.
She clung on, a shadow in the darkness, her resolve stronger than the shine of steel in their weapons. The battle was far from over, but she would not be swayed. Not when there were children to protect. Not when there was still the orphanage. She was their guardian, their shield, and she would ride through whatever life tossed her way.
Chapter 21: Ashes and Echoes
The orange-yellow flames poured an unfriendly light on the soot-black windows of the orphanage. Four dark forms, four pinched faces, mouths open in dry wonder, stood stiff among charred mounds of capsized trucks, ash-scented piles of smoldering embers. The military trucks, symbols of their strength, burnt-out shells now, puffed tiny puffs of smoke into the night.
"What the." Ragnar, the largest of the four, growled, his deep rumble shaking through the sudden silence.
The others – Kael, the tactician; Viktor, the sniper; and Dmitri, self-proclaimed enforcer – shared taut glances. This was not how this was supposed to play out.
They burst, the pebbles tumbling from beneath their feet as they launched themselves at the wrought-iron gates of the orphanage. The gates, standing wide open, now sagged drunkenly on their hinges, inviting them to hell.
The odor came first – a strangling torrent of metallic sweetness that made them ill. They gazed then at what was before them.
The courtyard cobblestones were strewn with all their men dead bodies, bodies contorted into impossible shapes. Dull screams, contorted faces. Contorted bodies, torn arms, faces contorted in agony. Whitewash that had decorated the courtyard today was smeared and splattered with disgusting bloodied design on its surface – arterial sprays, gelatinous pools, everywhere across the courtyard.
Dmitri, briefly not stoic, flinched. Kael, balanced on the edge of hysterical practicality, swallowed hard, his eyes scanning the tableau for pattern, for clue. Ragnar bellowed ear-shatteringly, fists white-knuckled and clenching. Viktor, ever vigilant, tension-coiled with hand on gun at hip.
"Up there!" Kael shouted across the taut silence.
All heads swiveled, for Kael's pointing finger commanded their eyes. Alone: Yuri, standing on top of the orphanage building, darkened by smoke against the clouding sky:
For one taut second, she was there, dark messiah among the fire. And then vanished: unseen.
The four men blasphemed in chorus. They were tensed stiffly, turned away heads hoping for the bloody thud. They waited. and waited… But nothing did.
Ragnar slowly opened his dazed eyes. And saw her.
Yuri stood erect in front of the entrance doors of the orphanage, arms crossed, a subtle, barely perceptible smile on her face.
Ragnar, who had just managed to recover his voice, bellowed, "We are four generals of Master Makai! We are strongest! We will bury you here!!"
Yuri's grin expanded even more. Then a deafening bellow began to build up inside her at the pit of her stomach. It started as a giggle, which became a snicker, but grew to volume and increasingly hysterical pitch into the madwoman's laughter ringing out in the scarlet courtyard.
"It's not my first rodeo, kid," she finally gasped, brushing away a tear from her eye. "Bring it on."
Chapter 22: The Dance of Death
Ragnar, pride hurt and fury searing him, sprang forward, the massive warhammer he held aloft above his head. It was a hammer of brute force, a bone-crusher and steel-bender. He swung it down in a wide arc, trying to slay Yuri with one blow.
Yuri didn't flinch. She just extended her hand, palm up.
The impact was tremendous, a thunderous crash that sounded through the air. The earth trembled. But instead of the grinding torn flesh and splintered bone, there was only the crashing of broken splintered wood and buckle metal.
Ragnar stood firm. His loyal battle-worn warhammer, his battle mate, was shattered into fragments on the ground at his feet. Yuri's seemingly intact hand was bent outstretched.
Before he could react, Yuri moved.
A surge of motion, a gasp of breath, then the boom of shock sound. Ragnar's stomach churned with agony, a pull that would tear him apart from the inside out. He saw himself turn to the side, look down, his vision blurring, He saw a fist-sized hole in his stomach.
His knees wobbled. He fell to the ground, open-eyed with surprise and shock. Wind was punched out of his lungs, and he was a hollow shell, a testament of his own arrogance.
Speechless in shock were Viktor and Kael. The speed, the viciousness, the audacity of the maneuver left them gasping.
But Dmitri did not move. Screaming in horror that curled your hair, he drew his katana and the polished steel shone in the leaping flames. "I will kill you for this!"
He attacked Yuri, the shining blade flashing in the fire as he stabbed and stabbed and stabbed her, attempting to cleave her in two.
Yuri met him head-on, her movements impossibly fast, her hands a whirlwind of deadly grace. In the blink of an eye, she parried, dodged, and countered, her seemingly delicate hands deflecting the razor-sharp katana with ease.
Then, in a moment of breathtaking speed, she grabbed Dmitri’s wrists. A sickening crack echoed through the courtyard. Dimitri screamed, the sound abruptly cut short. Yuri’s arms moved like pistons, twisting, snapping, tearing.
Dmitri’s head, severed cleanly from his body, rolled across the blood-soaked cobblestones, the vacant eyes staring blankly up at the sky. Yuri stood motionless, her arms covered in gore, looking almost serene amidst the carnage.
Chapter 23: Shadows and Deception
Kael, the strategist, finally broke free from his paralysis. He knew brute force was useless against Yuri. He needed to use his mind, his cunning.
"War is strategy," he snarled, voice raw and unformed. And then he was gone.
Smoke and shadow merged into one, churning as he disappeared into the darkness. Yuri turned around her, eyes burning from clump of shadow to clump of shadow. The courtyard shrunk, shadows falling, closing in on her.
Kael stood behind her, as silent as a ghost. He wrapped himself around her, wrapping her arms around herself.
"I will break every bone in you," he panted against her ear, his voice coarse silk. He tensed, his massive arms around her chest, ready to crush.
Yuri didn't wait. "You're right," she told him, her voice smooth and almost sensual. "Strategy wins. So does getting your opponent where you want him."
Before Kael could react, Yuri shifted her body.
A blur of motion, a sweeping curve of her body, and she was out of his vision. She slid out of his hands like a snake, her body uncoiling between his legs long and bending. She was at the small of his back, her hands raking through his hair.
Kael panicked. He struggled to turn, to run, but Yuri's grip was a vice that would not yield. He felt the weight descending, slow and unyielding as a steamroller, ready to crush his spine.
"No!" he shrieked, his fear-thickened voice being wrenched from his mouth.
Yuri’s hands tightened. A sickening crack echoed through the courtyard. Kael’s body went limp, his head lolling to the side at an impossible angle. Yuri released him, and he slumped to the ground, a broken doll discarded in the blood-soaked mud.
Chapter 24: The Devil's Due
Viktor, the sniper, alone, fourth general, last. Terror had haunted him, but unshattered. He was a gunner, a pro, an executioner. He had no choice but to employ his talent, his gift, for survival's sake.
He drew out his two guns, the metal one glinting in the light of the fire. "Nobody's gonna hurt me with my babies in my hands," he snarled, shivering.
He fired, a storm of bullets through the air at Yuri. The bullets ripped the air, the tails of fire and smoke streaming behind them.
Yuri stumbled dizzily, step by step, avoiding the storm of bullets that swept around her. She was a whirl of motion, an ectoplasmic shape that had no form to grasp.
"I hate guns," she yelled over gunfire. "I like it up close and personal."
Viktor swore. He could tell she was trying to close the gap, take away his advantage. He had to push her off, keep his fires blazing.
He just kept shooting, reloading the guns repeatedly with hands that moved more quickly than ever before. But Yuri was not going to be defeated, working as fast as he could, determination unshaken.
And some other sound was in the air – a bullet, uncomfortably close.
Viktor cursed, two arms going to his chest. He backed away, eyes wide open staring wide eyes. He gazed down at the red on his shirt, at the warm, thick blood that spilled between his fingers.
He looked up and saw Yuri rigid, his arm extended, still holding a smoking gun.
"You don't use guns," Viktor could croak, his own voice parched and gritty.
Yuri smiled, the ice beast glint in her eyes. "No," she breathed. "I said I didn't like them."
Viktor's knees gave way beneath him. He fell to the floor, his body crushed by the weight of this betrayal. The blackness swallowed him whole, jaws closing around him.
Yuri, alone in the courtyard, was surrounded by the blood-soaked massacre, the still-smoldering gun held in her hand. The burning automobiles created waves of rippling shadows of flame that engulfed the massacre. The red twilight hymn had been sung, and the four generals of Master Makai were finally dead.
Chapter 25: The Longest Wait
The oppressive quiet in Makai's office was broken by the tick-tock of a grandfather clock which stood in one corner. Every second dangled like an eternity. Makai, a man whose name smelt of terror and power, paced back and forth from the opposite end to the other side of the room. His gaze was fixed on the black telephone that lay on his mahogany desk. The "Good News" were overdue.
He stroked a thick hand over his freshly coiffed hair, the gray hairs gleaming in the light of the chandelier. The orphanage was the coup de grâce, the prize of his game of conquest. Tonight, it will be his. The children will vanish tonight.
Before he could curse once more at the messenger who had arrived to bring the word, some kind of commotion off made him retch in speech - a worst concert of screams, smashed glass, and foul crunching of flesh against flesh. He was balled up, his blood pent within veins. “What is happening outside?”
He walked to the huge oak door and his hand unconsciously went to the holstered gun with fingerprints that was strapped around his thigh. He opened the door and stepped back in horror.
The lower hallway was a mud pit torn from the very bowels of hell itself. His men, the best warriors his great empire could muster, were tossed around like ragdolls. Bodies flew through the air and smashed into walls with bowel-shredding crunches. The freshly-plastered white walls were streaked with bright blood.
And in the midst of all this carnage, a woman danced.
She fought at impossible speed and beauty, a killing ground. Black hair flowed back from her face, half-concealed, but Makai glimpsed the glint of cold calculating cunning in her eyes. She was a snake preparing to strike, to kill. Guard by guard, his best fighters fell, beaten and dead.
Through training, Makai became battle, his bellow booming out, "STOP!"
The doubt grew. The woman amongst the dead like a statue of death slowly turned her face, eyes blanking towards Makai. He sensed this enormous cold familiarity in them - this same cold emptiness towards him every morning from the mirror.
"You," he yelled, anger locked in fury-held check and trembling with rage in his voice. "I'll kill you where you stand!" He understood that all of his generals, his faithful curs, were dead or dying. The value of that was revealed to him. It was no raid. It was annihilation.
The woman, still covered in blood, smiled. She did not smile warmly. She smiled icily, like a predator getting ready for the hunt.
Chapter 26: The Dance of Death
Makai swung and missed; his entire existence boiled down to brutality in one clenched fist. Makai swung again at her jaw, but she flashed into brilliance and dodged very conveniently. He struck again and again, harder and harder until the blows had become wilder and more crazed.
Yuri fled from him, her movements a blur of calculated grace. She was teasing him, savoring his fear. Awareness of it maddened Makai, maddened him and pushing him to become reckless, to make a deadly mistake.
He hit her finally. His fist connected across her ribs sending her into a line of filing cabinets that crashed down on top of her. He had triumphed, a momentary false victory.
When finally the dust had settled, Yuri stood up and rubbed her head. She spat out a wad of blood on the ground and smiled. The punch didn't even leave a mark on her.
She launched to Makai, sliding under him cutting his leg with a knife which was superhumanly sharp and materialized in her hand out of nothing. Makai was torn by a shriek-shrill agony slicing into his leg and unbalancing it. He stumbled back, attempting to steady himself, when Yuri thrusted forward and kicked him on the jaw.
He convulsed, his metal-and-blood-spun head. Yuri stumbled beside him, her hand closing around a black pistol. Two shots rang out, the bullets deep in his shoulders.
Makai fell onto the floor, crying out in agony. He was numb, his harsh breathing jerking intakes. He glared at Yuri, his face twisted into a shock and fear grimace.
"Who are you?" he jeered, his own voice not much louder than a whisper. "What are you?"
Yuri simply sat on his chest, pinning him down. She wiped at an imaginary dust smudge on her grimy brown leather jacket.
"My name is Yuri," she breathed into his face. "Annihilation Army…Commander-in-Chief." She cackled with a cold, ugly grin on her face. "Retired, by the way" she exploded with a look of dumbfounded delight.
Blood dripped from Makai's face. His eyes fluttered open in naked, unadorned horror. He had it now. He recalled her.
"You…you are her," he stuttered, the words trapped in the throat by terror. "The Devourer of Souls."
Yuri's smile grew wider still, into something approaching abhorrence. "Yes," she breathed.
It began to leak out of Yuri's body, a black, greasy, gelatinous substance like shadow coagulating into weight. It moved up over Makai's rigid corpse, up and up. He shrieked, an unfilial, shaking shriek of raw fear.
"No! No! No!"
The black gelatin ensnared him, muffled his shrieks, and bore him away from life. There was nothing but the heavy tick-tock of the grandfather clock, a wry reminder of lost hours to him.
Chapter 27: Morning Aftermath
The sun rose with Dawn, and the sky turned blood orange, pale. Yuri hunched on the wreckage at the orphanage steps; fingers curled around a cigarette. Death and burning metal suspended in the air.
Rui sat next to her, lips pressed into a furrowed grimace of face and pulled out a steaming cup of coffee.
"It was a long night," Rui breathed.
Yuri leaned back and pulled fiercely on her cigarette, ruby cherry ember in shadows. "Yes, a very full-filling night." She grinned, demonish spark in her eye. "Get it? 'Full-filling'?"
Rui gasped, furrowed the bridge of her nose. Burned-out vehicles littered the lawn, twisted metal debris as far as the eye could see. Bodies, or what remained of them, were shrouded in the same black, gooey substance that engulfed Makai.
Rui stared at Yuri, at the bloodstains on her, at the wild look in her eyes bitter joking couldn't hide.
"You're insane!!" Rui stammered, shaking. She stood up from the couch, sinking inward with exhaustion.
"But you love it," Yuri replied, breathing a ring of smoke into the air which was carried away by the morning wind.
Rui didn't say a word. She walked inside the building; Yuri was alone smoking her cigarette. The Devourer of Souls slept for now.
