The End Of Days Book 1: Welcome Home (Opinions Please!)

[Raven62]

Hi there everyone, I have been working on a trilogy of science fantasy novels that I wanted to get some public opinion on. There is all the proof in the world that it is my original, so please don't try to steal any of this material, or FEEL MY WRATH!!
Hahaha. But in any case, as I was saying, I wanted to get some public opinion on what was done so far, I am 4 chapters in, though I am only going to post the first chapter and then I will post the second chapter if I see people are interested in reading more. xD
Any and all suggestions are welcome, and appreciated. But please don't rip me apart, I know I am not that great a writer, but hell, I got my first book published last year, and I am only 20 years old, so lets hope when I finish this one I will get it out there too! biggrin

[Raven62]

Chapter 1: The Fallout



Sirens blared through the city streets, the noise alone a threat. Windows shook, and people clapped their hands over their ears as the wicked sound assaulted everything in range. Anarchy had risen in the cities of Jovus; to think it was once peaceful and beautiful. Darren raced through the streets, having left his car in the clogged intersections hours ago. He didn’t have time to wait around, nobody did. Cars had become an unnecessary machine over the course of the last three hours.

There had been an announcement, a broadcast from the high council that nuclear war was upon us. Human kind had lived in peace for hundreds of years now, attained the goal that they as a race had strived toward for so long. But hundreds of years of peace couldn’t stand up to three hours of war. The peace was broken, and it seemed that it shot a crack through the psyche of the human mind. As a species humans had always been geared toward war, this long peace was an unnatural occurrence. It only went to show that was the truth when the announcement was made. It took fifteen minutes for the rioting to begin, half an hour for murders to start taking place, and by the third hour nuclear warfare was declared.

It seemed in these times of so called placidity, countries around the planet had been amassing weaponry anyways, for the inevitable fallout that would occur. Everyone saw it coming, but nobody took measures to stop it, humans would always be a basic race. A people shrouded by violence and war. Beasts. Humans in their best of states were beasts.

It was almost as though the peacefulness of the last three hundred years had caused people to go insane, like they had lost all bearing on the consequences that war presented. There were six different countries unleashing nuclear weaponry. The Russians were the first, then the Americans, followed closely by China, Japan, Britain, then South Africa. With these weapons armed and ready to fly, it was only a matter of time before the earth was being scorched by the flames of war. It would be mere hours before the face of the earth was turned into one big radioactive microwave, and Darren wasn’t going to sit around and wait for it to happen. Everyone tried to rush out of the big cities, believing that they would be safe if they just made it to the country.

How wrong they were.

Darren’s feet ached as he ran; he had been pushing himself for longer than an hour. His job at Frank’s Italian Cuisine was across the city from where he lived, and so it was quite a distance to get home, let alone to get to his wife’s work. She was another four miles past the apartment in the other direction. He panted as he ran, the sun beating down on him. Bile rose and fell in his throat, but he had no time to stop. He wasn’t going to quit running to throw up, it could wait. He passed the turn off to go to his apartment and he kept going, his shirt was soaked through by now, but he was close.

There were hundreds of other people running too, they were going in all different directions, scattering across the streets like cockroaches when the light came on. Except this time, the light was going to kill them all. As Darren ran he saw a man grab a woman’s purse and punch her in the jaw, taking off with it. A part of him wanted to cross the street and attack him, get the purse back, and be a hero. But the clock was ticking down, and there was no time for heroics. He was on a mission and if he strayed it could cost him not only his own life, but the life of his wife and unborn child. He was not willing to sacrifice them for this lady. The moral choice tugged at his brain, but he knew he was making the right decision, even if at the time it felt so damn wrong. The woman seemed to lay still after the punch, probably unconscious from the blow.

The rioting was insane, people were burning buildings, cars, trees, anything that could be ignited with a little bit of fuel was aflame. People smashed buildings and robbed from anyone and any stores that they could get into. Darren almost laughed as he ran, the world was on the verge of collapse, hell, it could be ending in hours, and people were still only worried about material objects; hundreds of people were stealing anything they could grab from diamond rings to iPods.

I hope you enjoy listening to your music on there when your skin is burning off you god damn fools. Darren thought. He was just so pissed off at how stupid their race really was.

By this point the muscles in his legs were starting to ache so bad that he could barely will himself to continue on, but he could see the law firm dead ahead. He would be there soon. As he ran a man came jetting across the intersection in front of him, driving a car that the driver must have thought was worth too much to leave behind. As the BMW came swinging across the intersection Darren didn’t have the time, or the energy to stop himself, so he pushed off his left foot with all his might, jumping into the air. He turned his back toward the car, trying to break through the windshield without doing too much damage to himself.

He closed his eyes after he had made his leap of faith, soaring through the air as if time had stopped. He felt the impact as the windshield slammed into his back without giving way as he had hoped. He put a web of cracks through the glass as he was sent shooting forward and rolling across the pavement. As he fell he tried to tuck and roll, but his head still cracked off the pavement through his tumbles and the world went black.

The man who had been driving the BMW got out of the car in a panic, realizing he had just hit someone. Most people in the situation they were in would have drove away, hell, Darren not five minutes ago had walked away from that poor woman getting mugged. But the driver knelt beside Darren, slapping his face and telling him to wake up.

“s**t, s**t, s**t. What do I do.” The driver moaned as he put his head in his hands.

He seemed to have an idea as he stood up and ran back to the car, popping the trunk and grabbing a bag out of it. He raced back to Darren’s side with the bag and pulled out a bag of smelling salts. He waved the small pouch underneath Darren’s nose for a few seconds and his eyes groggily began to open up.

“Oh, thank Christ you’re alive. I am sorry, I am just trying to get home to my family as fast as I can, I wasn’t watching where I was going and I was going to run the red light on the intersection so I could get home quicker, I really did—”

“Calm down sir. I suggest you start running if you want to get back to your family. There is no way you’re going to get through town with that car. Look at the streets.” Darren said between moans, pointing out the absolutely clogged streets and the people fleeing in every direction.

“Jesus…” The man whispered. “I’ve been inside the hospital all day, I just got out to get my family. I didn’t think it was this bad out here. We were getting patients flooding in, but this city has gone straight to hell.”

“Yea, no s**t. But I don’t have time to talk mister, I have to get the hell out of here and to my wife. Start running, get to your family and get somewhere safe. There is a bomb shelter on the corner of Wess and Craven, be there.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

By the time the man had finished his thanks Darren was already on his feet and running again, he had been so close to his wife’s work, and now he had wasted at least five minutes. Five minutes at this point could be the difference between life and death. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. He burst through the bottom floor of the massive law firm and he jogged up to the receptionist.

“I need you to call Susan Jackson. It’s her husband, and it’s an emergency.”

“Sorry sir, but the phones are down, power is out across most of the city.”

“God, damn it!” He growled, immediately running to the doors that lead to the stairs.

He took them two at a time, running up the stairs as fast as he could; he needed to make it to the fourth floor. It didn’t take him long to get there running up the stairs, but by the time he had reached the door his face dripped with sweat and he was breathing in ragged gasps. He gripped the handle and threw the door inward, almost knocking an employee over that was heading towards it. Everything here seemed too placid, far too calm. He didn’t understand.

“Susan!” He yelled. Charging through the halls and offices looking for her. “Susan!!”

“Goodness gracious Darren, what are you doing here?” Susan asked, waving him down from a couple offices down from where he was.

He ran up to her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head and trying to catch his breath.

“We need to get out of here Susan, look outside, why is everyone just sitting around in here like nothing is happening? We need to get to the bomb shelter. It could be minutes before people start launching nukes.”

“Oh, calm down. The world has seen crisis’ before. I am sure everything will be fine. Just let me pack my stuff up. And I want to make sure Christine and Jacob and a few other people from the office get out of here all right. We have already been ordered to evacuate. We are all just doing so in a calm manor. There is no point in panicking, that will only lead to chaos and we will all get out of here much slower.”

“Are you ******** insane!? The world could be ending within the hour, and you are worried about a few photos and a stapler that you keep in your office? We are leaving, and we are leaving right now.”

Darren grabbed her arm and began to pull her out of the office, he would drag her if he had to, and he didn’t care. He had to get her and his child to safety. He couldn’t lose them. She was seven months pregnant with their baby boy. It sure wasn’t much of a world to bring a child into right now, but he knew that they would raise the child to be a good man, and he would have a good life regardless.

“Ouch, Darren! You’re hurting my arm.”

“Hey Susan, is everything alright? Listen Darren, I don’t think that she wants to go. Just leave her alone.” Jacob said, grabbing Darren’s wrist to pull his hand off of Susan’s arm.

Darren immediately let go of Susan, but he grabbed Jacob’s arm with his other hand, pulled it off of his wrist and in one smooth motion he flipped his arm around into a chicken-wing hold and from behind he booted the man in the back of the knee, causing him to immediately drop to his knees.

“Mind your own business! And do yourself a favor by getting the hell out of here.” Darren bellowed, grabbing Susan again, this time more gently.

“Darren you are acting crazy! Jacob wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was just making sure I was alright. Get a grip man!”

He was already walking, tugging her along behind him and she resigned to the fact that she was going with him right now. He walked slow enough for her to keep up, not wanting to rush her too much with the pregnant belly. She eyed him up after they had begun walking down the stairs and she gave him a little smirk.

“I love it when you get all rough like that though. It’s really hot when you do that military stuff.” She said with a seductive gleam in her eye.

Darren actually smiled, breaking his focused and serious demeanor for a few moments and gave her a kiss.

“I love you baby. I am not trying to be crazy, I just don’t want you to get hurt okay. I don’t want our child to be in any sort of danger. I just want our family to be safe.” He said, holding her cheeks gingerly between his hands and giving her another kiss.

They continued to move through the stairwell into the depths of the building until they had reached the bottom floor. It was much slower going now that he was with Susan, but Darren didn’t care. As long as they got to safety, as long as they made it there eventually unharmed, everything would be alright. It took them close to twenty minutes to get from the law firm to their house, making their way through the car pileups and the vicious looters. They resorted to back-streets and going through certain buildings to avoid some of the more violent areas. The city was on the verge of collapse, and Darren couldn’t bring himself to understand what was going on. Why the hell were people looting when the city could very well be nuked in a matter of minutes? Why weren’t they trying to find some sort of safety instead?

He had his wife’s arm around his shoulder and he was helping her walk by the time that they reached their apartment. It was a quick transition from the bottom floor to where they were on the second floor; there were not as many stairs as the law firm. But when they reached their floor, they immediately noticed the amount of doors smashed in, theirs included. Darren could hear voices coming from down the hall, the direction of their apartment. He looked at Susan and he motioned for her to wait there as he crept forward.

Darren had been in the military for eight years, since he was nineteen. He got out after the eight year run and here he was, thirty one years old with his beautiful wife Susan, a baby on the way. He had never been happier. But now he was fighting for their survival, trying to get her to the shelter. As he crept down the hallway the voices got louder, and it was easy to hear that they were coming from his and Susan’s apartment. He could hear them smashing things around and two men were arguing about what was worth taking, and what they should just leave. He balled his hands into fists and he slipped through the door into the entryway. A hallway split the entrance into a T intersection, left went to the bedrooms and bathroom, and right went around to the kitchen and living room.

He could hear the two men in the living room, and he knew that there was another man rustling around in the bedroom. He smirked as he went left, he could take out the first guy and then have less of them to deal with when the time came to go into the living area and confront the other two men. He moved silently along the wall toward the bedroom door, and when he reached it, he peered around the corner ever so slightly, noticing the man’s back turned as he shifted through Darren’s drawers. Darren moved quick, sliding into the room and grabbing the handle of a drawer that was on his side of the room. He whistled softly to get the man’s attention and it worked. The thief abruptly turned and Darren immediately unleashed the drawer, pulling it out and hurling it towards the man.

The looter raised his hands and the drawer smashed against them, stunning him momentarily. When the drawer dropped and the man had gained his senses back slightly it was already too late. He ran forward and threw his foot into the man’s sternum, sending him rocketing backward into the dresser that he had been looking through. Before the man could even scream Darren was on top of him, a right and a left put the man to sleep. He wasn’t dead, but he would surely be unconscious for a while. Darren had caused a little more noise than he had first intended, and he could hear the other two coming now.

“s**t.” He muttered as he moved over to his closet, pulling out a baseball bat that he always left there, just in case.

He stood beside the entrance to the room and he waited for the two men to get in before he made a move. The first entered, and immediately upon seeing his fallen friend he rushed over to him to make sure he was alright. Then, as the second man entered Darren swung, the wooden bat bounced off the man’s jaw before he even got a foot into the room and he hit the floor like a rock. The man who had run through to his friend immediately perked up and turned around at the sound of the bat hitting his comrade’s jaw. He ran forward and pulled out a knife, holding it above his head as if he were some sort of modern day punk samurai.

Darren made swift work of him, hurling the bat at the man’s knee, causing him to trip to the ground and then a swift boot to the side of the head sent him into darkness. He took a deep breath and he shook his head.

“******** looters.” He growled as he turned around to leave and get Susan.

When he turned though, he was surprised to find another one of them there, standing right in front of him. His eyes widened, knowing he didn’t have enough time to react as the man had already thrust his hand forward. Darren tried to spin to avoid the knife entering his stomach, but he still caught it in the underside of his bicep, a major blood vessel. He felt the blood start to pour out almost instantly. But he swiftly grabbed the man’s wrist and he twisted him around, kicking his legs out from underneath him and following him down to the ground with his own hand, driving the knife into his throat.

There was a gurgling noise for a moment and then he was dead, the life fading quickly from his eyes. Darren ran immediately to his dresser, grabbing the first piece of clothing that he could find, tying it tightly around the wound to stop as much of the blood-loss as he could. He tied a couple of shirts in the same spot, knowing if he didn’t really reinforce the wound he would bleed to death in minutes. But he knew that even with the cloth around his arm, he would begin to feel weak, and he would slow down soon. Without proper medical treatment he was a dead man. The cut had been shallow, just barely nicking the artery he figured, but still, the average human pumps approximately a liter of blood a minute, so even a small cut at such a major vessel could cause quick death.

He ran back into the hallway and called for Susan to come in now, they were just grabbing a few things, he wanted his gun and holster he had bought after he left the military, and she wanted to take some clothes and a photograph of Darren and her from when they had first started dating. He knew that that picture meant the world to her. When she got to the apartment she immediately noticed the bloody shirts on his arm and began to freak out.

“Darren! What the hell happened! Are you alright!?” She cried, lifting his arm and gingerly touching the cloth. He winced and ground his teeth as he batted her hand away.

“Susan, I need you to grab your stuff and we need to get going alright? I will be fine. Don’t worry about me!” He growled, kissing her on the cheek and moving into the apartment to get his stuff. The gun, had it been in the bedroom would have been used earlier, but he always kept it strapped under their coffee table in the living room. Something that the thieves thankfully had not found. He took it out and popped the clip into it, loading one into the chamber of the Beretta.
After he had gathered the couple things he needed he heard a scream from the bedroom and he ran. His body moved faster than he had ever moved before as he skidded into the doorway to see one of the men standing with a knife to Susan’s throat.

“Please.” Darren whispered. “I don’t want anyone to do anything rash.”

“Rash! Dude! Look at my friend there by your feet. He’s dead! This is payback mother fu—”

The gunshot rang through the apartment and he ran forward, grabbing the man’s hand before he fell to the ground and slit Susan’s throat in the process. He took the knife and put it in his belt, holding his quivering wife and kissing the side of her head as she cried, the sound of the body hitting the floor resounding through the room.

“I am so sorry baby. This will be over soon. I promise.” He cooed, trying to calm her down. “Now get your stuff, we are going to get out of here right now okay? We have to get to the shelter.” He said with a small smile. “I love you.”

Susan’s slender hands visibly shook as she stood there, her long auburn hair matted in front of her green eyes. She muttered an ‘I love you’ back before she started to gather the bag that she had packed with some pictures and clothing and baby supplies, in case they needed them later. She would be having the child in two months’ time.

After she had grabbed her bag they left, though this time the reason they moved slowly was not only Susan’s fault. Darren was feeling a little sluggish too, so moving at her pace was no longer something he had to try to do. The blood loss had been slowed by the tight wrapped shirts on his arm, but he knew that the blood was still seeping through. They needed to get to that bomb shelter, and they needed to get there fast.

They had moved through the streets slowly, most of the looting was behind them, they were going through the business district now, the skyscrapers for corporations and office buildings were all that were around them, and people who were looting were concentrated behind them in the shopping districts. There were still some people rioting, throwing bottles of flaming alcohol into cars and windows, but it seemed less dangerous here.

As they hobbled along and the minutes passed, Darren continued to get weaker and weaker, eventually needing to use Susan as a support. His face was ghastly pale and his footsteps began to drag. Without medical attention he wouldn’t make it, he knew that already. He wanted to tell her to just go without him, so she wouldn’t have to watch him die…but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t sure if it was his own selfish want to stay with her, or the inability to leave her and his unborn child alone.

As if to answer his inaction on the matter a large T.V screen on the side of a skyscraper usually used for advertisement, lit up. There was white noise and static for a few seconds and then the face of an elder woman appeared on the screen. She looked down with sad eyes, and Darren instantly knew that the head of the high council had bad news.

“People of the United States of America, and all people of Earth. If you are listening to this broadcast then I pray you heed this warning. This is no drill. Nuclear war has been declared, and the bombs have officially been launched. Weapons are airborne from several different countries, and our satellite images have uncovered that these weapons are more destructive, more deadly, than anything that the world has ever seen. It will be twenty minutes before the bombs touch down onto our country, and every significant land mass on this planet. I urge you to find the nearest shelter and get there quickly! This day will usher a new era of struggle for our race, and forever change the face of our world. God save, and good luck!”

“Satellites my a**. You knew they were more destructive than ever before because you built your own. Son of a b***h!” Darren growled as he hauled himself off of Susan’s shoulder and toppled to the ground. He sat there for a second and heaved a sigh. He knew what he had to do. “Susan, you need to go. You need to go to the shelter without me, I am going to slow you down from here on out. I will follow behind, and meet you there okay?”

“No! I am not leaving you behind Darren. You get your a** off the ground and start walking!” Susan cried.

“Baby. Please. I need you to go. I will follow behind, and I will make it okay?” Darren said, tears welling in his eyes. “You need to do this for me. I need to know that you and our boy are safe.”

Susan sobbed for a few moments, breaking down and falling to her knees. She wrapped her arms around the sitting Darren and kissed him passionately. “I love you Darren Jackson. I love you with all my heart.” She cried as she kissed him again.

She stood up and was on her way, blowing him a kiss as tears streamed her face. She walked down the road, moving a lot faster now that Darren wasn’t dead weight on her shoulders. He didn’t stand from where he had been sitting; he knew that it was pointless to follow. Twenty minutes wouldn’t be enough time for him to make it there; besides, he would probably finish bleeding out in the next ten anyways.

He couldn’t say that he was quite surprised with the outcome of the world. Not since what had happened in Russia four years ago. The Russians had made an assassination attempt on one of the most powerful drug lords in the world. Gerard James was at the center of it all. Anywhere you could buy drugs the product somehow touched him first. As soon as the Russians had unleashed that violent act the world seemed to become more interested in war again; it just went to s**t after that.

He grabbed a cigarette from his pocket and popped it into his mouth, lighting it up and taking a long pensive drag. He let the smoke escape like a mushroom cloud and smirked. His life had all boiled down to this. As long as Susan was safe, he could die happy. But if anything happened to his wife, he would go through hell itself to get back here. He would return and seek revenge on the entire human race for just that one woman. She was his soul mate, she was his world.
He began to feel dizzy not long after they had separated, and he knew that the blood loss was catching up to him. He sleepily blinked a few times and then he lied back on the sidewalk and stared into the blue sky. God damn, it had never been clearer. He watched for the full twenty minutes, just staring up into that big blue sky. He watched until he could see the bombs in the air; enough explosives to level the entire continent.

________________________________________
Susan could see it now, the shelter was up ahead. The only reason that they had been able to get in was because it was a military bomb shelter and Darren had called in and reserved them a location inside. When she saw the doors to the shelter she just began to run. She didn’t care about jarring the baby a little bit, all she cared about was getting into that building. All she cared about was following Darren’s wish and making it to safety. She knew well enough that he wasn’t following him. She knew that he never intended to.

Perhaps that was the hardest part for her. Saying goodbye had torn her apart. Even as she ran towards the shelter her tears poured down her cheeks. She had to watch the man she loved sacrifice himself so that she and their baby boy could live. What sort of life would it be for her now? Darren was dead, and she knew she couldn’t raise a child alone, not in a world after this disaster.

There were people at the doors, screaming as she ran for her to hurry, they were trying to get the place sealed off and the people all down into the underground levels of the complex. The bomb shelter was no concrete bunker that people just sat in; it was a high tech military post with two floors beneath the surface level. One had to take an elevator from the first level in order to reach the living quarters beneath.

The bombs were coming in now, three minutes to touchdown; they could be seen brimming over the horizon like the horsemen riding full speed to deliver the apocalypse. The two men standing at the door ran out and grabbed Susan by the arms, picking her up and pulling her inside the building. The doors were slammed shut and locked with such a complex lock that it reminded Susan of a bank vault.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Mrs. Jackson. You’re the last person to show.” The man grumbled as he guided her across a dimly lit hallway to an elevator. “We have already been instructed by Mr. Jackson that if you were alone, he wasn’t going to be showing up. I am sorry for your loss Ma’am.”

They all hopped in and one of the men hit the down button, the elevator doors shooting forward and then with a lurch they were on their way down to the depths of this place. Down to safety, or what they could only hope was safety. They were headed ten miles down into the crust of the earth, which was where they would be staying. They all held on tight to the bars along the side of the elevator as they rocketed down wards toward their destination, hoping to beat the bombs.

The complex beneath them consisted of two different floors; both were one hundred feet by one hundred feet squares in which were segregated into living rooms for certain families. There were fifteen rooms on each floor, the rooms themselves about twenty-five feet by twenty feet, each room having their own little bedroom, a kitchen that was connected to a tiny living room, and a very small bathroom. It would be cramped, and quite a change for many of the families that inhabited this place, but at least they were alive.

Close to the center of each floor was another elevator, and then outside of the elevator was a large common area that would be used to get everyone together, or for people to just congregate in and talk. If they were going to last long enough to let the radiation pass, they would need to form almost a community in this place. They would need to work together in order to keep their sanity within these cold, gray walls.

As the elevator doors opened for them to exit, it began. The bombs rocked the underground shelter even though it was ten miles beneath the earth’s surface. They could feel the rumble and hear the enormous explosions. Sobs echoed through the complex, people realizing what had happened. Susan felt the tears slip down her cheeks as she thought of Darren.

Susan exited the elevator with the two men and they escorted her through the maze of thin hallways that separated the different rooms and to where she would be staying. The doors had been set up only to open to the inhabitant’s fingerprints. They decided that it was best in case anyone went crazy, then the people could hold up in their rooms and the assailant could not get in. However, they were voice activated from the inside, so that if there was ever an emergency and someone couldn’t make it to the door to open it for a person to get inside, they could call out and the door would activate to their voices.

Susan put her hand on the pad and the door read her fingerprints and saved them as the primary user, disengaging the locking mechanism and swinging the door open.

“There is plenty of food in the fridge, we will restock them once a week, and we are all going to meet in the main lobby every night for some down time at eight o’clock. We’d love to see you there Mrs. Jackson.”

“Please.” She whispered. “Just call me Susan.” She said, her eyes glassy with tears. Even the name Jackson made her think of Darren. God damn him for leaving her like that. God damn him for dying.

“Well, if you need anything Mrs…er…Susan, than just give a shout. There is an intercom that leads to a monitoring station where myself and a few other men will be keeping track and making sure everyone is alright.”

She nodded weakly to him and went inside, allowing the door to close and lock behind her, the sound of the locks clicking together making her jump. The apartment she would now be living in for god knew how long was small. It was very small. But she supposed it was all she needed. The small bedroom had a T.V mounted on the wall, and a queen sized bed, two dressers and a small bookshelf with all sorts of different books. The kitchen had dishes and pans and pots, spices and foods, and the living room had a lovely couch and another T.V, fully equipped with the latest gaming systems, but she wasn’t all too concerned with that.

She walked to the bedroom and put her head into her hands and wept. She hadn’t been without him for most of her life, and now he was gone. He could almost feel him there with her as she lay down. She curled up and sobbed, and while she did, she could have sworn she felt his arms around hers, and a gentle whisper into her ear, telling her that everything would be alright. She closed her eyes and could see him there, holding her.

I love you. He whispered.

“I love you.” She cooed back, and he was gone.

[Raven62]

I apologize for the lack of indenting and what not, this was a quick copy and paste over from the word document. I didn't even check if I had gotten all of the italics in. Hope you enjoy if you read it. smile

[Raven62]

Hello? (O.O);

[Raven62]

Bump. smile

[James Pixar]

I've read it. Amazing.

[welittlekat]

So sad and yet so beautifully crafted. Good ending but the characters and story make me want to hear more! Don't stop and go for your dreams!

[Raven62]

I am so glad that the two of you liked it! biggrin I have three more chapters to share with everyone, I am just waiting on a few more people to read this one. I just want a good few people who can continue reading it with me as I write it and critique me or let me know I am doing something right. smile
You guys can't begin to understand how much it means to me that you read and enjoyed it. Thank you so much!

[Raven62]

Hopefully I will get a couple more responses, then I will post up the second chapter. smile

[Raven62]

Bump

[E R O T U R D]

Wonderful!
That was amazing.
It is amazing!
The way you crafted each paragraph makes the reader want to read more and more!
The ending of that chapter was so elegant and beautiful.
I honestly have nothing that I can say for you to improve because it truly is amazing.

The only thing that bothered me was the lack of indentations, but I read that you copied it from Word so it's understandable. Other than that it was amazing!
Please continue!
I'm looking forward to more from you!

[Raven62]

Wow, again, thank all of you so much. I honestly expected some very harsh criticism about this. I suppose I am pretty harsh on myself. I will take the time on the second chapter I copy over to indent them. smile
Thanks for the very kind comments. I can't explain how much it means to me that people are enjoying my writing. biggrin

[Raven62]

Bump.

[Raven62]

I figure to hell with it. razz I will probably put up the second chapter tomorrow. I am at work doing a night shift right now, but when I get up after I will post the second chapter. smile

[Raven62]

Chapter 2: Broken Dreams



The slaps stung as he was beaten. His father’s hand was firm and unmoving like stone, and as it crashed against the side of his cheek again and again he began to sob. This was life for Demitri. The smell of alcohol washed across the swelling skin as his father panted, exhausted after laying into his son for what seemed to be an eternity. Blood ran freely down Demitri’s face and he could feel the break in his nose burning every time he opened his mouth to stretch the now tight skin of his face.

“Don’t you weep boy!” His father screamed; the voice almost indecipherable in his thick Russian accent. “You have to know the brutality of war before you ever see it, else you won’t survive. I am doing this because you must grow to be a strong man.”

There seemed to be a sympathy that hung from his father’s words, as if he almost felt bad for what he was doing to his son. But, if there was any sort of sympathy in the man, he didn’t let it last long. His hands being sore, he left his son, walking out of the basement of their home and leaving him bound to a chair in the dark.

“When you are finished crying like a pathetic woman, let me know.” He spat.

Demitri was only eight years old at this point.

As the light went out and his father closed the door that led to their family home, he whimpered and cried as quietly as he could. He knew if his father heard him he would only be beaten again. He knew if he showed the weakness that his father loathed so much, that there was no possible way for him to survive this hell.

His face burned, and his left eye was so swollen that he couldn’t see through it, but as he sat there, his tears slowly dried, and his sadness turned to hatred. His fists balled up against the ropes that bound him to the wooden chair, and he struggled against them. Time was irrelevant to him as he worked away the rope, pushing constantly, feeling the wood giving way. His father would never tell him this, but the wood was cut half-way through to make it easier for the boy to escape. He was putting his son into a position where he had to survive. He was training the boy as a soldier, training him so he may live through the foul events that were to come.

After almost two hours of working at it one side of the rope snapped through the wooden cross-bar that it was tied to on the back of the chair. He slid his bloodied wrists across the bar, freeing himself from the chair. Every move of his arms caused his wrist to pound with pain, the skin worn down almost deep enough to get at his vitals. The blood dripped steadily, and as he shuffled the chair (his legs still attached to the chair’s legs) over towards the work-bench in the basement, he ground his teeth and accepted the pain for the first time in his life. He was slowly becoming the man his father wanted him to be. The man his father was trying to create.

Demitri felt the workbench strike him in the shoulder when he shuffled too far towards it in the dark, and he knew he was saved. His father had left assortments of sharp tools on the bench, which he had always thought were just there to scare him. To get to them though, he would have to lift his arms around the back of the chair, all the way to the front. That would be no easy task. The boy began to lift, realizing quickly that the shoulder joints were never meant to go the way he was pushing them. With a loud cry of pain they snapped and his arms came around, popping back into place when they were at a natural angle.

He quickly grabbed a sickle from the bench and he sawed his way through the bounds, knowing after hearing him that his father would be down into the basement at any moment. When his hands were free, he sliced through the ropes on his legs and immediately ran into a corner of the room, so when the lights turned on he may still be shrouded in darkness. Seconds after he nestled himself into the corner the lights flashed on and his father came thumping down the stairs.

The man knelt down to look at the broken chair and he grinned, though as he grinned Demitri was rushing towards him. The sickle raised in his hand and ready to take the man’s life. As he swung the blade downwards his father responded with reflexes the boy had never seen. His arm came from behind and gripped Demitri’s by the wrist, clenching down on the bloody and raw skin that had been left by the ropes.

Demitri cried out in pain and dropped the weapon, his father moving again with speeds that Demitri had never observed. He was beside him in moments, twisting the child’s arm and thrusting his hand into the back of the elbow. There was a deafening snap as Demitri’s arm was broken, but the boy didn’t cry. He merely looked back at his father with eyes that screamed hatred. He looked at his father the way that he would one day look at an enemy across the battlefield.

He felt his father pull him into an embrace, hugging the child tightly and kissing the side of his head.

“You have done well boy.” He stated, clapping his son on the unbroken arm.

Demitri did not speak, merely stared back, dumbfounded at what had just occurred. For the first moment of his life, he felt some sort of affection from this grizzled man. He was more conflicted than he had ever been, unsure if he was supposed to return the sentiment or make another attempt on his life.

“Th…thank you father.” Demitri muttered, nodding his head in respect.

“Come. Dinner is ready! Today, Demitri Cheslov is a man!” His father bellowed, laughing as he picked Demitri up onto his shoulder and carried him upstairs.

Demitri, even at his age understood that this was not the normal way to grow up. He understood there was something wrong about his upbringing. He understood that his father was a bad man, but he could do nothing about it. At his young age, Demitri slowly began to realize that he was in for a life of turmoil, and he needed to escape.

Before sitting him down to the table his father bandaged his wrists to keep the blood from continuously leaking out. He then took his son’s arm and snapped the break back into place, resulting in unholy screams from the child. He made a make-shift splint out of the very chair that Demitri had been bound to, and then put his arm in a sling made from an old, dirty shirt.

He was told almost daily of the events that occurred before the era of so called peace that they had entered. How the Americans had infiltrated Russia and killed thousands in the name of so-called peace. The slaughtered people indiscriminately, and left their country in shambles. Russia had been the target of a ‘conspiracy’, being blamed for the assassination of the American president. After that, war was declared and America bathed the Russians in their own blood.

He received such tales again as he ate dinner, was told of the reason he had to be a strong man. The reason he had to be a soldier, and the reason that he had to hate, and eventually kill the American scum that had so defiled their great land. And even as his father drilled these things into his head, he remained immobile in his beliefs. He remained true to his dreams. He would go there. He would go to America and he would warn them. He would help them to put out the fires of hatred before the consumed them all.
He had to.
________________________________________

The door to Gerard James’ house slid open easily, unlocked as the maid had been paid to do. Demitri Cheslov was the youngest operative in the Russian military, but he did his job better than anyone had ever seen. His blonde hair was cut short, and a soul patch dangled from his lower lip, his eyes a brilliant forest green. He did not bother wearing a mask on his missions, because nobody ever saw him, or at least lived to tell the tale.

He slid his muscular build through the slightly opened door, surprisingly silent for such a large teenager. He turned the handle of the door and pressed it back into place, releasing the handle only when he knew it would make no audible sound. The rest of his job was simple. All he had to do was eliminate the target, and he had been doing that for almost a year already. He had been inducted by his father’s will into the Russian Intelligence. Growing up in a military home forced him into the military career, he had no options, not only was it all he knew, but he also knew that if he denied such a path, his father would surely kill him.

He was hardened on the outside, the only side that he allowed the men of the Intelligence and his family see. However, he was still the same child, still the same eight year old hoping for peace. He just had a journey ahead of him lined with evil deeds to get there. But it was a journey that he would make, and succeed in. Just a little longer.

The Intelligence agency had given him a letter to leave in the room, a suicide note that they had ‘hand printed’. The government had secured a hand-written document from Gerard James and scanned it into a computer. The computer then took the written document and scanned through all of the writing to adapt to the style of penmanship that he used. Then, a mechanical arm holding a pen was inputted with a message, and the arm wrote the message on paper with the precise hand of Gerard himself. It was flawless.

Demitri could feel his heart racing as he walked through the house, hearing the slight sounds that told him his target wasn’t far away. But the home was a maze, something that he was prepared for, having done his research on the blue-prints. Everyone lived their lives in this day and age thinking that there was peace; thinking that no evil occurred anymore on this perfect planet. They were wrong.

He moved quickly now, the sounds that Gerard made led him right to him. The man was upstairs in the west end bathroom, presumably shaving. He could hear the water running in short bursts, and what sounded like the light scrape of a straight edge razor across the edge of the sink, cleaning off the shaving cream. He rushed the stairs taking them two at a time, his feet making little more than tiny thuds as he moved, barely audible.

When he reached the top of the stairs he pushed his back to the outside of the bathroom wall, right beside the door. He drew the silenced pistol and he turned the corner, his finger already half pressing the trigger and ready to fire. His heart stopped as he turned the door to find a recorder on the side of the sink, playing the sounds of shaving as he had heard. He immediately holstered the pistol, knowing this had probably just become a close range fight, and he had been sold out by somebody.

He was about to turn around and ready himself for the attack, but it was far too late. Gerard had been waiting for him, and he was prepared. He felt a sharp stinging pain in his side and when the blade twisted he knew he had been stabbed. The cold steel ripped into the side of his lung, and before it could be pulled out, he was attacking in response, his fists moving in a blur as he gripped the man’s hand, holding the knife in his side and his other first crashing down into the side of his face.

He snapped back the fingers of the hand holding the knife so that Gerard would let go, and he shot a strong kick into the man’s knee, dropping him to the floor. He cocked back his hand to throw another punch into the man’s temple but it wasn’t until then that he realized it wasn’t even Gerard who he was attacking. Gerard was a thirty four year old Caucasian business tycoon, investing into drugs and guns, the wrong thing to do in a land of ‘peace’. This man was a young, muscled African American.

Demitri unsheathed the pistol and cracked the downed man across the temple, knocking him out instantly. The odds of Gerard even being there now were unlikely. Demitri’s fists balled up in anger and he ground his teeth. Somebody had set up a god damn trap. He had to get out fast; he knew there were dire consequences to being caught up in something like this. He knew that not only his cover was on the line, but his life.

“Sorry friend. Can’t have you telling people about who I am.” He whispered as he shot the silenced gun once into the skull of the unconscious man.

“Too late.” Called out a voice. “We already have your face, and we know who you are. Demitri Cheslov.”

His eyes darted from side to side, the tinny echo suggested speakers. And if there were planted speakers there had to be cameras. The bastards had been watching him the whole time. He wondered if it had been the maid. Had she betrayed the Russian Intelligence to Gerard?

“Clever.” He called as he looked around. “But this is the only time you will ever see this face Gerard. Because next time, you won’t know what hit you.”

“Oh dear boy. You don’t have the life experience to understand. You’re already dead.”

The noise registered as soon as it went off, he knew the beeping was a detonation, he didn’t bother opening the shower curtains to see the bomb, he just flew out of the bathroom door and slammed the door shut. Just as the door closed the bomb exploded, sending the door blowing off of its hinges and taking Demitri with it. He was bowled through the upstairs railing and went flying to the bottom floor.

He could imagine Gerard screaming curses about how he had gotten out of it. How he had been too quick for the bomb. He could imagine the cold sweat as Gerard watched the cameras, hoping for Demitri’s death. He grimaced beneath the smoldering door, feeling the broken ribs as he shuffled, and the knife in his side. Thankfully the blade was still lodged in the side of his lung, causing the blood flow into the organ to be stifled. Though when he coughed he felt the blood spatter his hand. He pushed the door off of him and he stood. Now was the time for Gerard to feel the real grip of fear.

Demitri screamed in pain as he stood up, the boy’s face coated in his own blood; a wound on the top of his forehead dripping the blood down into his eyes.

“Gerard!” He called. “Remember what I told you. The last time you will see this face.”

He moved as quickly as he could, exiting the house, barely able to move, he had to reach a medic stat. As soon as he exited the building he was greeted by a military vehicle, they had sent the evacuation as soon as they had seen the recorder through a clip-on camera attached to Demitri’s chest. They rushed him into the doors and the vehicle sped off, shooting back towards base.

The medics had to work quick, lying him out on a bed they had set up in the back of the heavily armored vehicle. It was essentially an ambulance with a military makeover. The two medics in the back of the vehicle moved quick, making an incision along his side where the blade was with a scalpel. They immediately pulled the blade out when the incision was complete and got to work. One medic grabbed a strange looking gun-like tool while the other grabbed a tube and inserted it into the open wound in the lung.

Through the entire process Demitri was not put on pain killers, he was treated immediately instead. He felt the blood trickle from the corner of his mouth, and his world began to swirl, close to passing out from the pain. The tube went into the wound and began to suck the blood out of the lung, the other man placed the gun-like object to the top of the wound on the lung and began to pump a hot organic material that bonded to the wound and grew into it. The hot material was called ‘organifuse’, and had been implemented now for years. The organic material reacted to the cells it touched, mimicking them and sealing wounds. They eventually became perfect replicas of whatever type of tissue they were touching. Stem cell research had gone a long way in three hundred years.

The man with the organifuse worked his way around the tube and when there seemed to be no blood left in the lung the doctor pulled the tube out and placed the organifuse one the hole. The hotness of the material was merely to do two things: cauterize the wound, and activate the organic cells. They were kept within the gun in a cryogenic frozen state. The heat awakens them and gets them to start working away at the wounds they touched.

As soon as they had patched the hole in his lung, they traced a line of the ooze like liquid across the incision they had made, melding it back together as well, and put a piece of medical cloth over the wound to let it heal. The organifuse took about three days to finish its job completely, but it held strong enough instantly to let it sit beneath bandages.

“Try not to move too much, or the fuse can rip and the wound re-”

“I know. It isn’t my first time.” Demitri muttered from his spot on the little cot in the back of the truck as they sped back towards Russian Intelligence.

He didn’t want to know what was waiting for him there. He hadn’t messed a mission up since his first month on the job. And this was one of the most important missions that their country had ever done. If it were to get out that they had tried to assassinate someone, they would instantly become enemies to the world order. That was how the world worked now. Everyone had a secret military, but nobody said anything about it. If you were caught with your military, you were an enemy to the peace of the world and targeted. If you completed your missions without a sound then nobody had to worry about it and everyone was happy. It was chalked up as whatever you made it look like.

When the truck rolled in to headquarters Demitri’s father was there to greet him. Oh joy. He knew what was going to happen, and both of the men knew that Demitri could have caught the man’s hand, but he did not stop it. He felt the slap crash against his cheek and he tumbled to the ground at the force of it, a red mark growing on the side of his face.

“You’ve failed this entire country boy.” He growled.

“But, father, the set-up was complete far before I even got there, how is this a fault of mine?”

“It is a fault of yours because you charged into the bathroom without first observing the target. You were careless, and your carelessness has cost us more than you can imagine!” His father said nothing else to him, just turned on his heel and left, marching back into the military complex of headquarters.

Demitri was ready to go in after him, but another man was there to stop him. A tall wiry Russian got out of the driver’s seat of the car and walked over, grabbing Demitri by the shoulder. Gregori was six years older than Demitri, a twenty one year old recruit. They had served on the same squad since Demitri had arrived on scene, and had become the closest things to friends that either of them had.

“Don’t argue him D. You know how stubborn your father is.”

“It’s bullshit Gregori! I did what most any of our soldiers would have done and still I am punished for someone else’s travesty!” Demitri growled.

“Just calm down. Let your old man cool off and I am sure he will see it the same way later.”

“You don’t know my father well enough.” Demitri stated with a sigh as he walked into the building.

As they got a little further into the complex the ringing of the Commander screaming could be heard. Demitri put his hand across his forehead in exasperation and heaved another heavy sigh.

“Great, the Commander is pissed too. Now we get double the earful.”

They walked into his office, and it was shocking how much louder it got as soon as the door opened. The man was ranting like a lunatic, a glass of vodka and orange juice in his hand.

“Sweet ******** Christ!! How could this have happened? Who gave us up! I swear to Mary and ******** Joseph I am going to hunt them down and cut their balls off myself! It was probably that god damn maid you assholes paid off! Who the ******** gives a woman money before the job is done!? I should fire every god damn one of you! And YOU!”

The Commander had turned now to Demitri and he took a deep breath, ready for the reaming that he was no doubt about to receive.

“You son, are a damn fine soldier, don’t listen to your father, he’s in a ******** piss again because he wanted Gerard taken out today. But we need this ******** guy taken out, and we need it done now. So, you get your prepubescent a** out of my office and get the best damn hackers you can find to track this son of a b***h down.”

“Yes s-”

“Now!”
________________________________________

It had not mattered; in the end the war had been lost against Gerard. They had hired their hackers and tracked him down, but it was too late. By the time that they had gotten to him, he had already released the video surveillance of the Intelligence’s infiltration of his home and their threats on his life. Such things had become strictly taboo in the culture of the world, and many people had never even heard of such things taken place, wandering through life with the naivety that the world really was a completely peaceful place.

When the news broadcasted through the world that violence was afoot, it became a tidal wave of anarchy. It started with the news, different countries around the world damning Russia for their acts of violence against the man. Then other countries began to speak out against those who slandered Russia for their decision. They agreed with the Russian Intelligence in their decision, saying that not enough was being done about the criminals like Gerard. A few months went by with the bickering back and forward and within the first year, the world had been divided into two sides: those who backed the Russians and those who criminalized them.

This heated debate continued past the first year, and into the second, and during the second year the debate became much more than just disgruntled words. The American media began to slander the Russian people harder, labeling them savages and as a lower race. They became known as a people with no dignity or honor. When these titles began to be thrown at them it was the last straws for the Russian people. Having face disgrace from the Americans already in the past it erupted into a full-fledged war.

Like the animal that they were, the human race deteriorated into a crucible of violence. Countries everywhere began to have not only battles with neighboring countries, but civil war between the populations within the countries who were on either side of the debate. North America stayed relatively calm in the times of war, as they often did. America and Canada sticking together, both united against the Russian enemy.

However, the European continent was scarred by war long before the nuclear fallout occurred, countries constantly fighting each other, rioting and killing in the name of their beliefs. Half of them thought that Russia was right, the other that the Russians needed to be exterminated to restore peace to the world. This continued for a year, and the global economy dropped like a rock, all except for the stable-minded North American continent.

Demitri was only nineteen years old when the decision was made. They was going to be nuclear war. He was sitting in a meeting with all the Russian heads, and not only them, but the leaders of the countries that were allied with them. He was an honored soldier by now, a veteran of the Russian Intelligence, and he was ‘honored’ with a seat at the table while they discussed their actions.

“Declare it.” The head of the Russian Intelligence growled. “Send those b*****d Americans a message they will never forget.”

“Yes sir.”

A man stood from the table and walked out, heading down to the communications department and giving the orders for them to send a message to the Americans declaring nuclear war. When the message hit the American country things began to deteriorate fast, cities clogged by cars in the streets, people trying to get out as fast as they could, knowing that the big cities like Jovus were likely to be targeted by the Russians.

When the man whom had left returned he nodded to the commander and the commander grinned as he turned to Demitri.

“Today, comrade is a day for the history books. We are going to finally repay those Americans in kind for what they have done to us.” He said with a grin plastered to his face, lighting a cigar and taking a deep breath, the smoke leaking from his mouth like poison.

The commander stood and he walked to a panel on the wall, he placed his hand on a scanner, and another scanner popped down and out after his hands had been verified, this scanner for his eyes. They scanned his retinas and verified again that it was indeed the commander. A panel from the wall slid down revealing a small box and he flipped the box open, revealing a key slot.

“Today! We cease to be the whores of an American pimp!” The commander screamed as he took a key from around his neck, placing it into the slot and turning it. Red lights began to flash all around the room they were in and their entire complex.

Warning! Nuclear weapons arming. T Minus 10 minutes until weapons active.

That monotonous voice would haunt Demitri’s dreams for the rest of his natural life. He knew very well that the Americans were in the wrong. He knew that they had damned them for doing the right thing, and they had previously insulted and disgraced their people. But that was their way. The Americans were children in dire need of guidance. He wanted to give them the chance to survive. Give them the chance to right their ways. To be led to an understanding.

The minutes ticked downward and he sat there, him and the rest of the world’s leaders sitting there, twiddling their thumbs and waiting. It was the longest ten minutes of Demitri’s life. Even being beaten by his father had always felt faster than waiting for the bombs to activate. When the warning cry for one minute was issued, many of the other world leaders in the room were on their phones, issuing orders to their military to arm their nuclear weapons as well.

These weapons were more powerful than any weapon the human race had ever seen, their explosive impact was specially designed to reflect the explosive power from the earth’s crust and spread wide instead of sinking into the earth and hitting only a five mile radius. These could level a thousand mile radius easily, leaving only a two mile deep crater, and the radiation would penetrate another six miles down.

“Demitri.” The commander called, seconds were now all that separated them from the end of the world.

“Yes sir.” Demitri called, afraid of what the commander might have to say to him in such a time.

“I want you to be in charge, comrade, of the first strike against our enemies. I want you to have the chance to lead Russia to glory. To lead us to a new era! I want to give you this great honor.”

His heart sank as the man began to speak, knowing that if he refused, there were many armed men in the room that would immediately dispose of him. Naturally of course, as soon as they killed him, they would fire the nukes themselves anyway. Now he had to weight his conscious. Could he live knowing that he himself began the worst war in history. That he was responsible for the end of the world’s peace era.

In the end there was only one decision he could make. He had to survive. He had to survive, and he had to repent for the greatest sin a man could commit. He saw the anxious eyes of all around him, staring at him, jealousy gleaming in their eyes. All of them would die for such an honor. But he was given this great chance, and was probably the only one who wished he had not been. It almost sickened him, the looks in these people’s eyes. They were all dogs; hungry animals that wished for nothing but power.

Weapons online. Ready to fire at will.

“This is it boy. Come here.” The commander cooed, walking over to the panel on the wall that he had been at before.

As soon as the message had been issued that the weapons had been prepared, the panel flipped, leaving nothing but a large red button on the wall where the key slot had previously been. The commander stood in front of it, the cigar in his mouth glowing like the fires of hell, and the smoke wafting in front of his face, making him seem like the dark lord in the flesh.

Demitri obeyed, trying his hardest to keep his eyes to the floor and his shame hidden in places that these animals would not detect it. He was, after all, one of the best soldiers they had and he had been trained to keep his emotions in check constantly. A skill he had perfected, and used now to keep himself alive.

“Look, the child is speechless at the offer he has been given. Go on boy. Lead your country to victory.”

Demitri merely nodded and he lifted his quaking hand to the button, pressing it down slowly and with great hesitation. When the button clicked downwards the alarms began to ring, and there was a great buzzing in the air. Suddenly there entire building began to shake and the massive weapons began their flight. The other men in the room suddenly became alive with chatter, ordering their countries to fire their weapons as well, and soon the sky would darken with these things. Soon there would be a flock of bombs, all soaring towards the east, the shortest route from their side of Russia to North America.

“Victory my friends!” The commander cheered, puffing out a thick white cloud. “This day is going down in history as the beginning of the Russian revolution! The day we began our ascent to the place we belong. The place atop the world!”

The people in the room cheered, a loud, obnoxious scream, and bottles of wine were even opened and poured in this moment of ease for these monsters. Demitri had not moved since he had pressed the button, and he surely did not join these people in their celebration. He felt the tears welling in his eyes, and a pain in his chest that he had never before felt. A horribly guilt for what he had done. Of all the pains in the world he had been trained to deal with, this was one they could never have readied him for.

The commander threw his arm around Demitri’s shoulders and grinned at him. He told him that he had done a magnificent thing, thrusting a glass of wine into his hand. Demitri didn’t even know what was happening anymore, everything blurring together as he held the glass of wine, the room still rumbling from the weapon leaving the building.

He drank the glass of wine in one large drink and threw the glass to the wall, shattering it into thousands of pieces. Thinking stupidly that he was doing this as some sort of wild celebratory act of freedom he watched as the rest of them followed suit. Glasses were drank in moments and then thrown about the room like confetti. Every time another glass shattered Demitri’s shoulders jerked in a blast of fear, hearing them exploding against the walls like the bombs that would soon be littering the world.

“Alright everyone! There will be time for celebration at a later date, for now we must head the facility. They will no doubt be retaliating shortly, and we can’t afford to be sitting in this room when their bombs come down. Unless of course, dying is something that you are interested in.” He said, his laughter ringing through the room like bells.

They were all ushered out of the room, going down a large bland hallway to an elevator that would take them beneath the surface for two and a half miles. The bunker had existed here for some two hundred years, and had been built for the purpose of keeping them safe from bombs, of course, but it had not been designed to keep them safe from the same sort of bombs that they were using, this would be their fatal flaw.

They crowded into the elevator group by group, several more people arriving from the facility to go underground. All of the countries’ leaders’ families were ushered in as well, being saved spots in this place. Load by load they were brought down, Demitri and the commander naturally in the first elevator. The underground base was crude, and only had a few rooms with cots littered all over the place, and a healthy supply of food and booze in the kitchen.

It was apparent to Demitri as soon as he got into this place, that it was designed not for long periods of hiding, but for a short retreat into a shelter while small bombs went off and the radiation quickly dissipated. He knew that he was not safe here, but he made no move to say anything, nor to try and escape it. If he were to die he knew full well that it was an act deserved under god’s watchful eye. If he were to die… he would graciously accept such a punishment.

The people in this place either went off to their own rooms to brood on what was happening, lying in cots to wait out what was about to occur, or they began to drink and celebrate their ‘victory’. More people upstairs continued to be ushered down through the elevator as Demitri stood soundlessly by the elevator, looking at his feet, contemplating everything that had happened and what was to come. He didn’t have much time to collect his thoughts as it began. The retaliation had not taken long, of course. North America and their allied countries in Europe began to fire back, all launching their own reserves of nuclear weapons, and each one just as powerful as the last.

The bombs touched down as they were still bringing people down from topside, the first explosion hitting when the elevator doors opened into the underground base. The entire complex was rocked hard, the weapon being dropped directly in the upstairs section of the complex. Every man woman and child who were still present on the topside were incinerated instantly. They would feel nothing, but merely cease to exist.

The explosion would rock a crater into the earth nearly two miles deep, almost straight down to where the Russians and their allies were located, and as such, the radiation flare that followed blasted down much further than that, and when the elevator doors opened the flare hit, shooting through the elevator itself and blasting through the closing elevator doors. The radiation flare from these weapons was not very destructive, but it was enough to fry a human body thoroughly. Demitri was standing there when it happened, the people just having left the elevator were a wall in front of him and the flare hit them first, sending them all flying through the hall, many of them shooting directly on top of him, the only reason for his survival.

The bodies created a shield over him for that brief moment, six or seven burning corpses all laying on top of him in the hallway. He couldn’t hear at first, shock completely taking over as he lay there, but eventually the sounds became much more clear. There was screaming, people crying for the lost that had died both on the top ground and right there in the hallway. He felt someone grabbing at his arm, and he looked up to them dazed, his eye-sight not working as it usually did. Blurry and fading.

It wasn’t until then that he recognized the pain he was in. His left leg and arm had been too close to the outer layer of the bodies. From the knee down on his left leg had been burned beyond recognition. His left side of his face too had been seared, starting beneath his eye all the way down the left side of his neck. His entire left shoulder down to his hand had also suffered the same horrific burns. He began to scream as he was pulled from beneath the bodies. People had already begun working on sealing the elevator shaft. There was not much more to be done, for the shaft itself had been demolished by the explosives, and was filling in with debris. They were trying to put items in front of the elevator that would keep the radiation flares from breaching the doors again.

They dragged him across the floor, those of them who had survived the sudden blast of radiation. Corpses littered the rooms from wall to wall. Many people hadn’t been lucky enough to have a shield of bodies to protect them for those very brief moments. The smell of burned flesh and hair filled the rooms to the point where most of the survivors were vomiting. But Demitri could not keep his mind focused on anything but the pain.

He continued to scream as they dragged him away from the hall and into a separate room where they hauled him onto a cot and began to feed him alcohol, telling him it was all they had to help ease his pain. The booze burned his already searing flesh when it touched his charred lips, so he attempted to drink mostly from the unaffected right side of his mouth. Eventually they left him, drunk and screaming in the room. He threw his bottle at the wall, watching it shatter as he cried himself into a sleep.

The burned flesh began to peel from his body as he lay there, and by the time he awoke, everything had changed.

Apparently, he had been asleep for days, and he could almost remember blurred parts of the past weeks where he was given food and water, though it all seemed to have passed without his knowledge. When he woke up, he was attached to an impromptu IV that was feeding him nutrients to keep his body alive. At least some of the fools who designed this place had put some medical supplies in it.

When he opened his eyes, truly conscious for the first time in the better part of a month, he heard no noises at first. It sounded as if there were nobody else here. The large room was empty, no cots were being used. But as he took out the IV in his arm he felt light headed—weak. His burns were wrapped in gauze, so his entire left arm and leg were wrapped in bandages, soaked in an agent that was similar to organifuze, but this stuff didn’t heal it quite the same, it merely sped up cell multiplication and regeneration. As such, the scarring would be permanent.

He began to peel off the bandages as best he could, feeling no pain as he took them off. When he peeled them away from his hand, he watched as the underside of the bandage was taking off an entire layer of his flesh. The burned and destroyed flesh from before was simply peeling off with the gauze from the new and reconstructed skin that lay beneath. He felt like some sort of inhuman snake, shedding away its skin.

He found himself fighting the urge to throw up as he watched his skin peel away, and he only made it half way up his arm before he stopped. He couldn’t stand to see the scars that lay beneath the old skin. He couldn’t imagine looking in a mirror after he had taken off the bandages that he could feel plastered on his face and neck.

His head swam as he walked, dizziness taking over. He could feel his footing become sloppy and he crashed to the floor with a loud thud, toppling a cot over in the process. He growled in pain as he lay on the ground, he had never been so weak in his life. Even as a child he had been able to hold his own better. He tried to drag himself across the floor, using all the strength that he could when he began to hear things—noises from outside the room.

He narrowed his eyes as he lay there motionless on the ceramic floor. Suddenly he heard voices, the sound of footsteps growing nearer and the door burst open, light assaulting his eyes in the dark room. The first time he had seen the light in a month.

“Sweet ******** Christ! He is alive!”

As he looked up he saw a familiar face, a face that made him burn with hatred and rage. He felt his skin begin to heat up as he lay on the floor. The commander was grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet.

“God damn comrade. Not even a bomb could take your life huh?” The commander said, the same jolly smirk on his face as had been there the day he made Demitri press that button.

“You.” He growled, a confused look now passing over the commander’s face.

Strength flooded Demitri’s body in moments as he stood there, anger fueling his muscles in the place of oxygen. He felt his skin begin to burn as it had the day that he was hit with the nuclear radiation wave.

“You!” He screamed. “It is all your fault! All those people dead!” He bellowed.

“What are you talking about you stupid boy! I have done a service for our country. For our world!” He cried out, stepping back from Demitri and striking him across the face with the back of his hand.

The strike caused him to stumble, but he did not fall from his feet. He moved forward with the speed he had been able to use when he was in perfect shape, his hands clutching onto the shirt that the commander wore, holding him by the clothes over his chest.

“You have destroyed this world and each and every life in it! You son of a b***h!” He screamed. And as his anger began to peak he felt the heat begin to rise, growing within his arms once more.

The heat mounted, actually beginning to hurt him as he stood there with the commander in his grasp before it all moved down to his hands. The skin around his hands began to glow a bright orange, and the commander squirmed in his grasp, crying out for help.

“You deserve to swim in the depths of hell. You worthless scum!” He growled. And as he spat the words into the man’s face there was a loud echoing bang.

A shocked expression covered both the commander’s and Demitri’s face as they both looked down to Demitri’s hands. They were smoking and no longer did they hold the clothes of the commander, but instead, the area around where his hands had been grabbing was simply missing. There were two craters in the commander’s chest, and wide-eyed he looked at Demitri for some sort of explanation. The man toppled backwards and Demitri, afraid and confused by his own actions ran through the door.

There were three other people there, all running towards the room to see what the commotion was about, and he immediately ran in the opposite direction. There were not many places to go down here, only a few different rooms and the elevator shaft. He had to find out what was happening to him. How he had done what he had done. What was going on?

As he hid in a small room it was only a matter of time before they found him, the three of them bursting in, all armed and ready to fire. He was crouched in a closet, his hands up, unarmed. They took him and dragged him out, taking him to the main hallway where they tied him to a chair and began to interrogate him on what had happened. Neither of the two men had ever seen a body in the condition that the commander’s had been in before. Not when assailed by an unarmed man.

“Please. I swear… I don’t know what happened.” Demitri pleaded.

“You think we are stupid!? What weapon are you hiding boy!?” The older military officer growled, slamming his fist across Demitri’s burned cheek.

“I hide nothing!”

Another punch took the gauze off of the cheek completely, and in the reflection of a mirror across the room he saw the burned face and began once more to lose control. He ground his teeth together and narrowed his eyes as he looked at the man.

“Okay. I highly suggest that you do not strike me again.” He said. “For your own safety.”

“For my safety!? Who do you think you are!?” The man growled, punching Demitri in the gut.

The punch winded him momentarily and then he was up. His hands began to glow and the heat easily burned through the cloth that bound him. He kicked the chair backwards and he punched, his fist connecting to the man’s jaw and in the instant that the punch hit his glowing fist emitted a nuclear shockwave, the same thing that had vaporized the commander’s chest. Half of the man’s face disappeared instantly, and the other two soldiers who had been standing guard instantly brought their weapons up to fire. He grabbed the falling corpse and held it against the volley of bullets. As the guns clicked, their ammo clearly out, he dropped the body. A twisted smirk cracked against his scarred cheeks as he glared at the men.

“My turn.” He said, a sickening pleasure seeming to emit from the man’s voice.

It was over in moments, two quick jabs and the men had fallen, explosive punches taking them from their feet and across the room. He didn’t know fully what was happening to him; all he knew was that he had been changed. That he had been given a gift from god, not punished or damned by him. He was given the ability to protect…and to avenge.

His shattered dreams of keeping the world safe were in that instant renewed. They were revitalized.

He was ready.