Chapter Text
Prologue: Every Battle is Won before it is Fought
July 18, 2009
West Virginia, USA
Ma and Pa weren't waking up.
He stared at their shapes, shaded as the sun's rays entered through the dusty window. The tight belts around their arms, the scary needles on the floor scattered around them like toys left to pick up. He could see Ma's mouth hung open and her eyes were half open, while Pa's head was tilted forward so he couldn't tell if his eyes were closed.
Not from where he was.
He wanted to walk over to them. Shake them a little so they'd wake up. He was hungry. His tummy kept growling at him to eat something. He'd tried calling for them, shouting at them, but nothing was waking them up.
Once again, he considered getting closer to try and shake them awake, but his shoes were missing, and he really couldn't get close without the risk of stepping on one of the needles. Needles hurt! He knew that much. Grandma had taken him to get a needle jabbed into his arm once before, and it hurt! He'd cried and kicked, but the lady that had hurt him with it had been so nice that he couldn't cry for long. She'd even given him a lollipop!
But now he wanted more than a lollipop. He wanted cereal and milk. If it had marshmallows on it, it would be even better! It was a little too hot for pancakes, but at this point he'd take them as well. He'd even take boiled eggs! Who cared if they smelled bad? He was hungry! But there was no cereal left. No smelly eggs, either, and pancakes were a distant dream at this point. He'd checked. Then checked again in case there was something in the pantry's darker corners that had escaped his eyes. He hoped Ma and Pa didn't mind him tracking dirt over the counter as he'd climbed it to try and find something. He hopped off the counter and eyed them again.
Why don't they wake up? I'm so hungry!
He'd glanced at some of those green pellets on the floor that looked tasty, but Grandma had yelled at him once not to touch them, and so had Pa.
"Don't eat those!"
"You can't eat those, you retard! You want to die?! Idiot!"
The memory of being shaken kept his hand at bay from grabbing the tasty-looking pellets. He sat on the floor and waited again, pulling at his dirty toes, hoping to find a distraction, but by now all he could think about was how they reminded him of chicken nuggets.
"Ma! Mama!" he shouted from across the room.
They didn't even move. They just sat there in total silence. Almost like… Were they breathing? He glanced at the floor full of scary needles and slowly, he crawled closer, keeping his distance from them. If they were asleep, wouldn't they be snoring? He stopped, seeing one of the needles. He didn't touch it, and instead stood and tried to lean in a little. He stared at Ma's chest, then Pa's. He counted and held his own breath. One, two, three, four…
They weren't breathing.
That was bad, right? He stared at them a little more, then sat on the floor and held his breath. He waited. At first it wasn't difficult at all. He waited some more, still holding it in. Then his chest felt funny. He tried holding it in a little more, but it started to hurt, so he let out his breath and breathed back in, feeling better right away.
But ma and pa didn't breathe.
"Pa! Papa!" he tried yelling again, now very scared.
Once again, he got no answer. They just stayed there. So still. Like they could have been part of the wall. But they weren't part of the wall!
So he screamed at them to wake up. Cried as loud as he could. His hunger was forgotten. He'd clean the counter if they got mad. He wouldn't complain about eating again! But they just weren't listening! He looked around as if forgetting where he was, but more to remind himself of options. The phone! Where was the phone?!
He found it on their lone couch, nuzzled between dusty cushions, and he quickly dialed the number he remembered if there was an emergency. Ma and Pa not waking up had to be one of those, right? He knew the numbers, Grandma had made a point of him memorizing them.
Nine… One… One!
Nothing. He pressed them again, and put the phone up to his ear. No sound. Was the phone on? Out of batteries? It had been plugged in earlier, but… He winced. The lights were off. No lights meant no TV, but also no phone. He put the phone down and tried yelling at his parents to wake up again.
Nothing. Not even a twitch. His eyes began to tear up and his nose began to run.
He wiped at his eyes, then forced himself to stand up. He was a boy! He wouldn't stay crying anymore! He'd help them somehow! He knew how to unlock the door! He just had to reach the lock.
One dragged chair and a turned lock later, he found himself outside, standing on the hot grass by the road, but… which way?
It was mostly forest around their small house. He knew they weren't that far from town, but… just how far were they from people? He thought back to the McDonald's Ma took him to once, then eyed the road to follow. It couldn't be that far. Could it?
He walked ten steps in one direction, then stopped, and quickly turned around. Papa had once taken him to work, and it had been in the other direction, and he was pretty sure he'd seen police there! They'd help! He started running, stopped to pull a pebble from his foot, ran again, then stopped after three steps. Which way exactly? The first direction ended at a curb and he couldn't see past it. The other was no different, but instead of the woods it was hills. Just hills and trees. No houses or shops or restaurants or police.
He felt his lip quivering.
"Help!" he called out towards the hills, taking both hands up to his mouth, hoping that would let his cries go farther and maybe someone would hear. Then he repeated it in the other direction.
Then he stopped.
What if he got the attention of someone bad?
It was in that thought that he really started to shake. The sun was up high, and he felt dry but… suddenly cold. Not at all hot. Just… dry and cold. When did he last have any water? They'd also been out for a bit, right? Ma and Pa weren't leaving the house, and…
He didn't see the car approaching but he heard it screeching to a smokey stop behind him. He turned around to see it. It was gray. Small. He took a step back from it, unsure of what to do now. The door on the side swung open suddenly, and he heard a voice.
"Oh, dear, oh precious, hey! Hey, hey, hey!"
It was an older woman, like grandma's age if not older. She was quick to run over to him, though. Suddenly it felt very important that someone hold him. She didn't pick him up, but she did kneel so she was looking at his eyes and inspecting his face as she looked scared. Maybe she was someone good?
"Hi! Hi, are you lost? Are you lost, little guy? What's your name? Are you hurt?" she said quickly with a weird smile. Like she looked more worried as she started looking him over. She had to be someone good.
All of a sudden, he was very tired.
"Oh, dear God-" was the last he heard as he fell over.
Everything went black, like he was falling asleep. His legs felt all wobbly and he couldn't stand anymore. He was all too happy to finally close his eyes. He did hear her shouting something, but nothing he understood. He just fell asleep.
Just as suddenly as everything turned black, he could hear the woman talking to someone, but he didn't hear anyone answer back. Did she have a phone? He found the air cooler now, but he was still so tired. Not even hungry anymore. He decided to rest a bit.
Suddenly he really did wake up. There was a crinkly wrapping all around him that was keeping him warm, and a different lady with a uniform was giving him a box of very tasty juice while touching his forehead and speaking to someone else. She sounded far away at first, but soon he saw her clearly. Behind them was an ambulance as well as a police car. The pretty lights were flashing, though the sirens weren't on. Didn't they have to be on if the lights flashed?
"Just walking out on the street?" was what he heard someone say.
The lady from the gray car said, "Y-yes, just… just walking around barefoot!"
The lady in a uniform then turned to him and said, "Hey, little guy. Feeling better?"
He realized then that he had drunk the entire box of juice in one very long sip. He looked at it, not sure what it was. Orange? Fruit mix? He didn't care and only wanted more.
So he nodded at the lady and started to get up.
"Okay, easy honey, easy. Let's stay sitting down for a bit, alright?"
He didn't argue.
"You were really thirsty there, huh?" she said with a friendly smile as she came back with a second juice box.
He only nodded.
"Can you tell me your name?"
His name?
He was about to answer when a man called from farther away. From their house. He remembered Mama and Papa. Surely, they'd get help now. Right?
The man wore a large hat and blue uniform, which he recognized as the Police. He shrank away slightly. He knew emergency numbers, but the way the policeman looked scary to him. Like he was angry, and he was sure the man was much taller than pa, and had a gun. The police man remained serious and scary-looking as he talked to the nice ambulance lady.
"OD'd. Male and female."
He saw the nice lady covered her mouth, and the lady in uniform turned to him and asked, "Are your parents in that house over there, sweetheart?"
He nodded quickly. He still felt a little sleepy. What did "O-D" even mean, anyway? He'd heard about a dog named "Oddie" once, but it didn't sound like the officer had called for someone.
"Okay, buddy, just… just take it easy here, okay? We're going to get you some help. What was your name?"
"Ronnie." he finally managed to say.
1919
East Europa
Her town was like something out of a folk tale, those who visited always said. The greenery of trees and grass surrounded it in a way that made the wooden cabins and buildings with their stone chimneys stand out all the more, with birds singing, the hills around it almost dancing with the breeze as the winds moved the grass blades… yes, "idyllic" was the appropriate word. A village out of a fairy tale.
Not many visitors now, but the streets were still fairly crowded as she ran towards her destination.
She didn't particularly like to run, but Mother had told her to pick up some ingredients from the local shop, and that meant they'd probably be having her favorite dinner. She was careful not to get her dress dirty as she ran down the dusty, stone streets. Idyllic or not, it was still a village in the fields, away from the cities. Several horses strolled past her, some pulling wagons with hay or wheat, other people walked around or simply stood around discussing things.
The shop owner was a nice man. He smiled as she came in with the list, and frizzled her hair as she handed it to him. A moment later he'd come out with a bag of the ingredients.
"You sure you can carry them home, miss Bles?"
She'd only nodded, beaming back as she took the bag and held it tightly.
"I hear the Empire is trying to reconcile territory." one man said.
"What? Now? War's practically over!"
"Exactly. Lord knows if the peace talks don't wrap up soon, though…"
She considered to pause with intent to try and listen to more about the war, but decided against it. Eavesdropping wasn't polite or ladylike, after all. So, she crossed a street and one of the neighborhood girls stopped drawing on her notebook to wave at her.
She waved back, making sure she'd been holding the bag a little tighter so it didn't fall. The girl opened her mouth to say something. Perhaps an invitation for another time. Perhaps a question about what she was bringing home.
Her village was, after all, an idyllic place that could be something straight out of a storybook.
The suddenly loud whistling was what she first heard, but it hadn't registered. Not for her or anyone around her. Whatever the other girl had been about to say would forever remain a secret as she vanished in a cloud of dust and smoke before a horrible shockwave threw her off her feet and slammed her into a wall. A woman screamed. People began to speak a lot louder as she tried to stand back up.
Increasingly louder whistling followed then, and a half-second later she heard loud explosions ring throughout her idyllic village. The people around her instantly began to scream, some orders, some questions, but that filled the air, only interrupted by the awful whistling and sudden explosions, like thunder.
Only the ground shook.
She tried to look around as people ran around her, and briefly, she spotted something on the hills far away. First two, then four shapes that moved slowly over the hills, shaded by clouds of barely visible smoke around them. She felt her eyes widen as she recognized them from newspaper photos. They were small, but their shapes were unique even at that distance. Even if she hadn't recognized them from how far away they were, the second she saw all four of them spit out smoke she would have known what they were.
And if she didn't know, the man shouting next to her certainly did.
"Tanks! Tanks!"
The explosions silenced him as the tanks opened fire and even more people screamed. Wooden cabins that were homes to entire families exploded like dandelions in the wind. They didn't all catch fire. Worse, the incoming projectiles caused their wooden beams to splinter apart, creating shrapnel that ripped anyone in its way to bloody pieces. Stone chimneys that used to provide warmth now became terrible hazards as those directly hit by the large guns collapsed and crushed anyone trying to find cover behind them, and if someone had forgotten to put out the fire before trying to flee… those homes did catch fire.
She shakily got to her feet. The bag with the ingredients Mother had asked for was nowhere to be seen anymore. The smoke now covered the once idyllic village that folks claimed was like something out of a folk tale.
"Mother! Father!" she called as loudly as she could, but her shouts were carried off by the wind and mixed with the screams of everyone around her.
She tried calling out to her mother and father even louder whilst she ran back home, but there was no way they could hear her, let alone see her. The smoke wasn't entirely thick, but it hurt her eyes as she tried to find them, and amidst her panicked, screaming, fleeing neighbors the task was impossible. It was as if the surrounding hills and forests were alive with pain and gunfire as another volley of shots rang out, and yet another cabin exploded.
A young woman ran in front of her and suddenly fell over. She felt something wet and warm splatter onto the side of her face. Shakily she took a step back. Instantly the crackle of RAT-TAT-TAT roared as a machine gun began to wreak havoc. Those that had been running, or trying to run, were suddenly mowed down. Not pushed, not tossed, and certainly not blown away. They were running one second, then falling dead on the floor the next. Some carried something in their arms. She tried not to look because she was sure the thing the young woman that had fallen in front of her carried had been moving a second ago, but now lay just as still as her.
She only lived because she was so small. She felt something buzz over her then, but nothing else as the sound of RAT-TAT-TAT continued to echo through the town.
She was seeing red on her right eye as the soldiers in front of her suddenly appeared from the smoke, like monsters out of a nightmare. They saw her. They looked like they were knights. They wore armor like knights. They wore helmets like knights. Some carried spears like the brave knights her mother had read to her. But these were tall. Rigid. Almost like monsters.
The gun was aimed at her.
"N-no…" she tried to plead, to start begging for her life.
They did not give her the chance. Instead, the soldier ignored her and she saw the gun flashlight towards her before the bullet whizzed past her with a terrible, insect-like buzz that was instantly followed by the thunderous explosion of the gunshot.
"No!" she screamed and cried and tried to make herself small. She covered her ears and wailed. She'd tried forcing more words to come forth, to beg they leave her alone, to wake up from what had to be a nightmare, but even she could tell she was a babbling mess.
She felt so cold suddenly. Her heart was pounding on her chest, her throat burning, and her eyes hurting. The ground next to her suddenly spat dirt, the gunshot hitting next to her at an angle that caused mud and blood to splash in her face.
"Get up!" the man shouted.
Another thunderous gunshot rang out and more dirt splashed at her as the man screamed again.
"Dance! Dance you little bitch! Dance!" the man shouted at her with such anger in his voice before he fired again. Her screaming hurt her throat more, but it was all she could do as she covered her face.
She tried calling for her mother and father again, but her words were entirely incoherent. She heard one of the frightful monster men say something else, but she didn't understand it as another gunshot rang out and she felt more dirt and rock burst out close to her.
"Get up, damn you!" the man screamed at her again, but this time she felt a kick to her side send horrible pain through her body.
She opened her eyes, and through burning tears saw the soldier aim his rifle at her face.
"Up! Now!"
Shakily she stood up, still sobbing. The man eyed her for a moment, his rifle still trained on her. Everything hurt, and she heard someone say…
"Just shoot her, Karl. Look at her. She won't be any fun."
Through her teary eyes, she saw the man's own roll as if angry. Mother sometimes did the same when Father said something silly, but the memory only made everything hurt more. The man finally huffed, then raised his rifle at her again, but it didn't seem real anymore. She couldn't scream anymore as she only hiccuped something akin to a plea.
"P-p-please, don't-" she just managed to say.
Another ear-splittingly loud gunshot, but this time she fell backward as the bullet hit her and she landed on part of the stone street. Her shoulder suddenly felt on fire even as her small body felt oh so cold. And then, somehow, she could feel herself screaming even as she heard none of it.
An eerie blue glow surrounded her as she writhed in pain on the ground.
"Mother! Father!" she tried to cry out, desperate as she knew it couldn't be helped.
As she turned her gaze to the muddy ground around her, she saw her present reality. A hand under the rubble and littered bodies of her neighbors, close to the remains of a once-familiar cabin. It was strange, really. It could've been anyone's arm. Yet, to her, even if it wasn't and she was imagining it, her mind could already guess everyone around her was gone. Father was gone. Mother was gone.
The eerie glow continued, now going from an ethereal light to a bright shine around her.
Still, she ignored it, slowly, she forced herself to stand up as tears flowed further and the pain drove her. She had to help. She had to try.
Even then, for some reason, she could hear one of the soldiers suddenly shout something. More painful gunfire, but she couldn't care about it. She needed to find Mother. She tried to move towards her home. If there was any hope, any at all, that her mother was still alive, then she'd get to her.
She heard someone shout, "She isn't human! Fall back! Now!"
"Peasant scum!" another screamed as more gunfire erupted around her.
For some reason that seemed terribly important. She was just a girl like any other, wasn't she? Mother had told her to act ladylike, and Father had always called her his princess. So what was this all about? Did they attack their village because of her? Because she "wasn't human"?
More gunshots rang out, but she couldn't care about them any longer. Mother needed her help. Maybe… maybe if she got to her on time…
She reached the destroyed house and froze.
It was only an arm. Blood splattered around it. Bone was exposed, telling her it once belonged to someone. But only the arm remained.
Maybe it wasn't Mother's arm. Maybe it was someone else's. She couldn't fully tell if it was a man's arm or a woman's arm. But she still stared at it as a cold fear grew in her heart.
The glow increased further until it made it hard to see the severed arm in front of her.
The rest of her memory was a blur after that, but the screams would always remain with her even if she wanted to forget.
February 10th, 2018
West Virginia, USA
Do they hate me?
Neither Grandma nor Grandpa waved him goodbye as he exited the house and got on the bus. He'd missed breakfast. He'd showered. Then he'd left, only a nod and a forced "good morning, see you later" as they'd sat around their table, eating toast and scrambled eggs as he walked past them and returned the quick greeting and farewell.
But so it went.
Drugs in the United States were a rapidly rising problem. It had been heroin at first. Then it was opioids of all kinds, legal and illegal. Even if he didn't use them, in a way, he'd been a product of the ongoing crisis.
He tried to push those thoughts aside.
Not possible. Even now, he walked past some of the junkies that hung out around his school. They rarely caused direct problems, so the nearby police just stood around, watching as if there wasn't a homeless man staring into the sky, unblinking, as everyone else passed by.
Worse, inside school didn't feel very different.
He walked past a girl who was handing a guy a sheet of papers. In exchange he shook her hand, and she waltzed off with a mischievous grin as she eyed her score. There was a teacher at the end of the hall who saw it all and did nothing. And so it was.
The kids at school traded just about anything to get high while watching whatever they could online. He watched the others pop a pill, and then get through the entire school day with pleasant expressions on their faces.
He had to work it out differently. He had to.
The memory of his parents, holding hands, lying still, dead. There was no way he could get that out of his head. Ever. Instead, he kept his head low. He ignored the occasional offer. Maybe he'd talk about the latest Marvel movie or DC flop. Maybe he'd nod along as someone brought up an Activision or Nintendo game.
But always at a distance. Even during the innocent talks of movies and games, he'd see a kid roll up a joint, or pop a pill, and then carry on like nothing had happened. He had to balance that distance, talk enough not to become a target, and keep quiet enough that nobody offered him something. He had to play that forgettable high school classmate role. He had to.
Such was the life in public schools.
Once back home, it was a bit of a different story. He left his backpack at the door and was finally greeted. His grandma placed a packet of cheese crackers on the counter as he walked inside, smiled, and spoke in her usual cheerful tone.
"You forgot breakfast. Eat up." she sighed, taking a drag from her cigar.
He didn't argue, eating the snack with a lone attempt at a genuine "thanks".
Then he was at the cash register.
Theirs was a humble, small, innocuous cafe in town, just outside their home. People would buy a coffee, maybe add chips or donuts, then hang around and enjoy the free wifi. Guys heading home from work in the city, kids making a stop as they headed home from school, maybe a drifter who didn't have a home.
And there he was, at home.
It wasn't part-time, nor was it full-time. It was just helping. Annoying, but manageable, it was him… what did Grandpa call it? "Earning your keep". Grandma brought in some money from her baking skills, he manned the cash register and cleaned tables and chairs and floors. Just helping out. Grandma and Grandpa gave him some money here and there, and cooked for him, but…
As a local police officer handed him a few dollars for a bag of Doritos, he caught the briefest glance from Grandma. A side glance, that… what was it? Indifferent? Her eyes had darted away the second his met hers, but again there was an unidentifiable… something.
The officer suddenly spoke up, "Hey, Susan! How are you?"
Grandma walked to the counter with a polite smile, "Clara! Good to see you around. We're doing alright. You?"
"Ah, surviving. What about you, kiddo?"
"Um… good, thanks?" he managed.
"Very good,right? No complaints from him, which is great."
"Oh, he better not cause any trouble at school, mark my words." Grandma grumbled.
"I wish half the parents at school had that attitude." Then, lowering her voice, "We had to bust four sixth graders trading God damn Oxycontin with each other."
"Christ, they're starting younger and younger." Grandma muttered, then, to him, "You hear about that?"
He only said, "I can't ever tell what they're using."
She slapped the back of his head and said "You should! That's how your folks died!"
He ignored the poison behind the last five words. Better to think it was imagined. Had to be.
Officer Clara was quick to say, "Ah, you can't blame the kid too much. A lot of these drugs… you can't really do much about it. Some are abusing their prescriptions, so even if you narc on them they can pull the 'well it's legal' card. These kids got caught because they'd shoplifted it."
"Yeah, and their parents will bail them out, and they'll think they're untouchable or that they're not doing anything wrong. God damned animals…" she grumbled, then took another long drag from her cigarettes before turning back to him, "Ronnie, you tell Officer Clara if you hear anything, you got it?"
He nodded.
"And if I catch you with drugs…" she made a swift motion by sliding a finger across her neck.
Clara chortled, "Tough love, eh? Stay golden, Ronnie."
He only nodded, not entirely sure what she meant by "golden", but pretty sure it was meant to be positive.
So when Grandma only snorted, he was only left to wonder…
Does she hate me?
1927
East Europa
Screaming never worked.
Her throat had grown sore from screaming as the electric waves washed over her, burning her skin, pain burned its way through her. Screaming never made it feel better nor more tolerable.
Not anymore.
The men and women in lab coats did not speak to her, they did not acknowledge her as human. And perhaps, deep down, she knew they had good reason for it. If the girls around her were anything like her, then perhaps it was for the best she never see them again.
She watched energy come out of her in powerful blue waves that glowed in the darkness of the laboratory. Their glow was soft, and perhaps she could be fooled into thinking there was a warmth to it as it pulsed into the darkness and gave her some sense of lighting her path. But she knew better now.
It was power. Pure, violent, terrifying power. It lit the surrounding darkness but then burnt all that tried to touch it. Hence why the men in lab coats used long metal chains and ropes to poke her, hurt her- study her.
She was a thing. An anomaly. They did not speak to her except to remind her of what she was. Her breakfast, lunch, and dinner were all handed from outside her cell by someone unseen. The food was tasteless slop that, if it had been at all heated, was always cold when it reached her.
She missed Mother's cooking.
She didn't want to eat anymore. She didn't want anything to do with the horrible things being done. But then what? She didn't have any choice, did she? Running certainly didn't help.
If she didn't eat what they gave her, they hit her, slapped her, hurt her, then splashed something that would heal her. Then do it again if she didn't comply in any way.
So she ate the slop. She finished it all, then pushed the plate back towards the window it had come from. She stared at the brief glimpses of light from the outside, the blue glow only bothering her. Still, she sat in her cell, then closed her eyes, wishing she could taste Mother's cooking once again, or feel her father's tight bear hugs, or the fresh breeze.
She could imagine it, the warm meals by the fire, the love… all gone now.
The door opened suddenly, and the blue light from outside was replaced with a warm glow of lanterns.
"And this is Subject A1. Selvaria Bles." announced an unseen someone, but she was certain the voice was familiar. A woman's voice, one that she was sure she'd hear around the facility. Sure enough, a glasses-wearing woman suddenly appeared before her from outside. No eye contact, no acknowledgment, just the brief confirmation she was still there in her cell before turning back to someone outside. She considered moving quickly to the room's corner, but she remained still.
"Here she is." She concluded, then stepped aside.
Strangely, behind her were not just a few men in lab coats, but a man with a regal aura. He was tall with golden hair, a serious expression, and a perfectly kept uniform. Silvery plate armor that was just like that of the knights Mother would read to her about. She did not hear the other words spoken, just whispers, really. The man kept his eyes on her as the words were whispered not loud enough for her to understand, but she sensed… something.
Her heart accelerated as she prayed, waited, and for the first time in a long time, hoped.
Suddenly, wordlessly, he extended a hand to her.
"Work for me." He stated simply.
She took his hand without a second's hesitation. Why should she hesitate? It couldn't be worse than what she was facing there. If anything, the gentle but firm squeeze of her hand only assured her that this was entirely the correct choice.
The man in shining armor pulled her up and led her out of her cell. She looked around, seeing the men in lab coats, not prodding her anymore. The cold floor under her felt almost soothing in her bare feet now that she could walk on her own down these halls. Her captors kept their distance now, some eyeing papers, others whispering to each other, but none touched her or made their glances obvious. The knight kept her safe, so she held his hand a little tighter.
Briefly, she noted the other cells for a second. Empty. She was alone, truly. There'd been other girls before, but none were around now. Whether they'd been killed, or sent away, she didn't know. Should she ask? Dare she ask?
Then her knight in shining armor spoke.
"Your name is Selvaria Bles, correct?" he asked, his words heavy and serious.
"Y-yes!" she answered quickly.
"And these men, did they tell you what you were?"
"Yes." she spoke, suddenly nervous as she added, "They said I am a descendant of the Valkyrur."
She waited after the words had left her mouth. What if he was concerned about her nature? What if he didn't want to save her because of it? Or what if…?
Suddenly he said, "Good. Very good. Come along."
She followed after him without another word. She did not question the automobile that picked them up. She did not question the trip as they drove down paved roads before entering familiar fields. The man in shining armor did not ask her questions. He remained silent as the facility disappeared behind them before vanishing behind the horizon. She could only watch in shocked silence as she realized how warm and comfortable the automobile's insides were. She'd seen one, but this was like something out of a fairy tale.
The mansion was where she simply had to ask.
"U-um… mister?"
"Lord Maximilian." he corrected her in a neutral tone.
"L-lord? You mean you are a son of the imperial family?"
He did not answer. Instead, he opened the door and walked out of the car, then stood still. She wondered if he was waiting for her to follow. He hadn't ordered her, but the look in his eyes…
She swallowed as she stepped out into the cold air. Her bare feet on the cooling stone beneath her almost made her feel like she was entering an ancient castle even if the mansion looked more like a very big house.
She started shaking as she followed him into the mansion. It was, truly, like something out of a fairy tale book. She could've been dreaming if not for her aching muscles and stinging bruises. The pristine walls were decorated with golden curtains and red carpet, all immaculately clean. Furniture pieces in the halls were larger than the bed she'd had with her family and the bed she'd had at the cursed facility. The hall itself was larger than her old family home. The warmth felt oh so welcoming, the lighting was perfect, and yet…
She couldn't help shaking.
"This will be your home now, Selvaria. You won't have to want for food, or warmth, or shelter ever again."
She stared at him, eyes wide. It was all so strange, suddenly being rescued. It hadn't been an hour ago when she'd been in a cell eating tasteless slop that made her feel ill. Her clothing was, at best, a raggy dress. She was barefoot. She hadn't gotten the chance to bathe. But now she could smell the familiar scent of borscht, she sensed warmth and safety, and she felt her eyes starting to water.
"Dinner will be ready soon. If you so wish, you may go upstairs to bathe and get some new clothes and shoes. Get yourself rid of these… rags."
"I-I… I thank you, Lord Maximilian…" she spoke quietly, shakily. She did not expect the warm tears to trickle from her eyes.
"T-thank you." She repeated, a knot in her throat that she ignored as she tried to keep her tears from falling down to the oh-so-clean floors.
Her savior patted her head suddenly, but gently. She dared not look up as he did so, and nearly jumped at the sudden show of kindness.
"Worry not, Selvaria. You will work for me from now on. The pain of that facility is behind you."
"Y-yes, Lord Maximilian. Thank you… I thank you!"
She couldn't stop crying. Not yet, at least. But for once, she was able to smile genuinely through the tears.
May 8, 2019
West Virginia, USA
Can you blame them?
It was such a small thing. He'd just turned 15, yet there he was. Still behind a cash register. Still earning his keep. On his birthday. As summer rolled around. As time slipped away. Grandma was busy cooking the next batch of donuts, and now Grandpa was standing watch as he placed a five-dollar bill and returned a quarter and four cents to the girl who'd bought the four drinks.
He yawned and stretched, waiting for the girls to get out of earshot before speaking.
"So! None of them from your school, right?" Grandpa asked.
"Huh? Oh, no. I think she goes to-"
"Then you should hang out with her or something. She seems nice, she has some looks, and you…" His grandpa's eyes seemed to search him for a second, "Well, you have your father's face, I suppose."
He blinked. A mention of his father? Now? He had to jump at that. Maybe to clear the air or maybe just to get it over with now, but he had to.
"Grandpa?"
"Huh?"
He pursed his lips, but forced the words out then, "I don't remember much about dad."
Grandpa blinked, then, with a slight scratching of his chin, said, "He killed himself when you were four. I'm shocked you remember anything about him."
"Well, I… I remember a few things. Like the time I almost ate some rat poison, so dad shook me and Grandma yelled so I wouldn't do it again." he tried to add a laugh at the end, but it came off as a shaky, awkward sigh.
They were both quiet then. There wasn't anyone else in line. The girl who didn't go to his school had picked up her things and left with her friends. His grandpa seemed to be reminiscing, so he was sure he should bring it up now.
"Grandpa?"
"Ah?"
He swallowed his fear, then said "Did I make life worse for Ma and Pa?"
Simple. Straightforward. He was sure he'd used a neutral enough tone. Probably.
Grandpa didn't answer right away, though. As if giving some thought to the question. Slowly he turned to see if his grandpa was thinking or had just dozed off. He was still awake, sitting on a chair, his phone now on sleep mode as he seemed to ponder the question.
He finally answered "Well, of course you did. Your mother was sixteen, your father had just turned seventeen. Having a baby at that age?" He huffed, then added "College flew out the window immediately, that was for damn sure, he was looking into multiple jobs while your mother cribbed with us, and then his job in Beckley didn't pan out so he got into all that crap…"
Suddenly, as if realizing who he was talking to, he said "Not that it's your fault. Just an objective fact."
And with that, something broke.
"O-oh…" he managed. The knot in his throat suddenly grew tight as if something was pulling at it from afar.
Grandpa quickly said "Don't beat yourself up about it. Your father? He was stupid. We tried to get him down a proper path. When that failed, we tried to help. But he was always screwing things up. Not you."
"A-and Ma?"
Grandpa only said "Bah, she wasn't much better. Frail. Shy. Lazy. Again, we tried. For what we saw of her, we tried." then, with a shake of the head, "Just a damned shame."
To Grandpa, that was probably the end of the conversation. But to him? He didn't mean for his hands to grip onto the counter the way they did. He didn't want his mind to go back to what he did remember of his parents the way it would. He didn't want his grandfather to think it was still an open, gaping, bleeding, pus-riddled wound that just wouldn't leave him alone as long as he lived his miserable, useless, pathetic excuse of a life.
Grandpa noticed.
"I told you, don't beat yourself up over it. They chose to have you, they chose to try and start adult life early, and they got themselves into that mess."
He only nodded in response.
"Ronnie, hey. Look at me, kid."
He turned to him.
"Ah, damn it…" he grumbled, then glanced around, as if embarrassed for him, but then said, "Go on, get it off your chest."
He only shook his head.
"God damn it, boy, don't go reopening cuts like that. It does no good."
He only nodded.
With a sigh, Grandpa said "Look, it's your birthday, right?"
A nod again. Automatic. Robotic.
"Okay, well… here."
He glanced down at the counter where he heard a finger tap.
There was a phone on it now.
"Uh-" he wiped at his eyes, "Grandpa, what-?" he croaked out.
"It's my old phone, still works, and it's newer than the one you got."
"But-"
"Boy, it's a gift."
"B-but… you don't have-"
"Bah, I got a new phone with the plan. Go on, do your account set up whatever, download some apps, take a break."
He sucked in a breath, then said "Thanks, Grandpa."
"Yeah, happy birthday. Go on, go take a minute."
Grandpa frizzled his hair as he walked off to his room. He passed the SIM card from his previous phone easily enough. The old Samsung and the newer one were still Samsung models, though as Grandpa said, his worked better, and passing some apps to it was easy enough a distraction.
As the apps updated, he glanced around his barren room. He had a bed with faded red sheets. He had a drawer with small, long-dried droplets of paint. The bone-white walls had a lightning-like crack that had been there as long as he could remember, and next to it was a lone family photo of him, his dad, his mom, and his grandparents outside the house. Pa's smile was so wide and Ma's smile so tired. As the newer Samsung finished updating, it needed to restart and the screen turned black.
He saw his reflection on the glass.
Grandpa's words echoed in his mind.
You have your pa's face.
The wound continued bleeding.
1929
East Europa
"Ack-!"
She began coughing as the smoke from the pot flew up the kitchen walls and up her nostrils like a malicious demon and forced her to retreat not two seconds after she'd taken the lid off the pot. The kitchen staff only sighed as they moved in quickly to fix what she'd failed at and perhaps salvage something if they could.
"Miss Bles, perhaps… perhaps we can teach you another time?" the head chef asked.
"I… yes, I… I believe you're right. Apologies, chef."
"Ah, no worries, no worries! I think we can still salvage this for tonight. Run along now, miss Bles!"
Frustrated, but ever-poised to carry on like any well-mannered lady, she handed her apron to the woman without a word as she undid her ponytail and quietly walked up to the washroom.
There, she saw her ashen face in the pristine mirror and stared at herself in silence for a moment. She then quickly doused water on the marks of different ingredients that peppered her face, careful not to spill anything onto the clean porcelain or the floor. No need to give those around her a harder time cleaning, after all.
She ignored the cold, irritable stinging on her cut-up fingers. At least for a second. Her cutting her fingers a bit while chopping up vegetables was acceptable, but what did that pain matter when she couldn't even cook a proper meal for the man who'd saved her?! Once her face had been washed, she glared back at her reflection in the mirror. Her crimson eyes stared back at her with frustrating understanding.
So much missing. So much wrong with her. But that mattered not compared to finding a solution. What could she do? How could she improve? How could she make the ever-serious prince, her knight in shining armor, happy? Briefly, she glanced at her figure. She was developing into a woman, no? She straightened slightly, like any good soldier. Silently, she pulled her blouse so it contorted to her body's shape a little more. She stared in silence at the result.
Would he perhaps be interested in…?
The thought died as his voice cut into it.
"Selvaria."
She whirled around without skipping a beat, and saluted, saying "Your grace!"
Lord Maximilian eyed her over once, but said nothing and she saw nothing other than hints of confusion on his entirely stoic expression. She forced the pangs of disappointment from her mind and waited for him to speak.
"Are you alright?" he asked calmly then.
"Yes, your grace. I apologize, I… I overcooked the borscht again."
Lord Maximilian nodded slowly, then asked, "How go your studies?"
"They go well, milord! Your extensive library has helped my studies, and if all goes well, then I shall join the Imperial Army as an officer within the year!"
"Good." Lord Maximilian said simply, the barest hint of a smile in his words, but then he became serious again as he said "Come with me if you please."
"Always, milord."
He walked down the halls and she followed his graceful figure. All thoughts not relevant to him were pushed aside as she felt a degree of contentment just by standing behind him as he led her down the clean halls of the mansion. Any fears of being taken back to that accursed facility, any fears of her inadequacy, any at all, vanished around him and she could only hope to be all he wished. His golden hair, his elegant posture, his soothing voice-
Suddenly he spoke again.
"No one else knows you are a descendant of the Valkyrur, yes?"
"Of course, lord Maximilian! That secret is yours and yours alone, I would never betray-"
"That is all well and good, Selvaria, but from what I've noticed, even in your training, you have not attempted to use your powers."
She blinked, then asked "Milord?"
"Back in the facility, you were supposedly capable of emitting much power, no? The records state as much, do they not?"
The memory of watching as large needles were stabbed into her arms, connected to metal wires, and electricity shot into her in order to cause her powers to activate and emit that damnable blue glow suddenly entered fresh in her mind. She forced the pain it caused to vanish as Lord Maximilian turned to her and waited for an answer.
"Y-yes, milord."
"But you have not used it. Your physical exams, the grueling training of any young recruit… none of it has led to them manifesting?"
"I apologize, but I have not found them of much necessity in those tasks, your grace. I can do anything for you." she added quickly.
"I see. So, you struggle to manifest it on your own. Would that be correct?"
"Yes, milord. I apologize, but I fear I am not quite sure how to control this part of myself yet. I struggle to call it forth, and on the few occasions I am aware of it appearing it is beyond my control and discipline."
"I see. Yet, what I am most curious about is if you truly awakened them entirely."
"Milord?"
"More of Förster's research on Valkyria arrived today." He stated simply.
He paused out in the hall by the library's door. Silence reigned for a few seconds. The mention of Förster's name worried her. She'd learned she was in command of the facility. Her facility. The cursed place she'd been rescued from. She doubted Lord Maximilian would give her up, but… what if she failed her tasks? What if she became a failure and of no use to him? She did not allow herself to be drawn into undiscipline by her inner turmoil, but she couldn't help her heart rate accelerate as she awaited Lord Maximilian's response.
With a key in hand, he finally said, "The powers of the Valkyrur awaken only when certain parameters are met, it seems."
Internally, she wondered what that meant, but she kept quiet and waited. Lord Maximilian unlocked the door, and they entered his library in silence. The bookshelves stretched to the ceiling of the room, all full of hardcover books with topics ranging from fictional stories to the latest scientific discoveries. But on a lone desk, illuminated by a torch, lay a new addition in the form of a glass-encased ancient-looking page of paper in a language she was unsure she recognized.
"I don't understand. I thought that Valkyria powers awakened on their own." She said quietly as she looked it over.
"So did the many scientists in the facility you were in. But we've recently discovered some manuscripts that paint a grimmer picture."
She stared at it and suddenly the letters did seem familiar.
"This is-"
"Yes, the language of the Valkyrur. I don't suppose your knowledge of it is at a level of proficiency where you could read this?"
"No, sire. I apologize, but I have only learned a few basics."
"Never the matter, Förster's people have some guides that helped translate, and as I said, the picture is grim."
He pressed his hand over the glass, as though it was separating him from something. She wanted to help him reach whatever he sought so much, her attention focused entirely on him. As her savior, she owed him absolutely everything and she would ensure he achieved his goals!
Suddenly, Lord Maximilian said "It appears a Valkyria can awaken her powers only if she is in a state of near death. Like some kind of defense mechanism."
That struck another memory.
"I… I had been injured when my village was attacked, sire. But I do not recall it being a mortal wound."
"It couldn't have been. If it was, then there would not have been any survivors to have captured you. If anything, the smallest manifestation of such powers at that age and without a mortal wound having been inflicted upon you shows just how gifted you really are."
Despite the praise, Lord Maximilian had spoken in a strange tone. Was he conflicted about something? Worried? She looked him over. His shining armor was as pristine as it had been when he rescued her. His features remained cold, yet she wondered… her eyes fell on the dagger he carried around his waist.
She needed no further sign.
"Sire, if the answer is that I must be grievously wounded to activate my powers for you, then the course of action is simple, is it not?" she spoke quickly.
He did not look at her when he said, "You understand what it means?"
"Sire, you rescued me from that cursed place! You have treated me as a human being and not a test subject. If doing this will help you achieve your goal, then it is no difficulty for me."
"In spite of the risks?"
"In spite of it all, milord!"
He stood there in silence.
Then, without another word, he handed her his dagger, then took a step back. Waiting.
It was an odd thing in her hands. She'd known of weaponry, blades still used in modern war alongside firearms, be they bayonets or combat knives, but she had always been told that, same as firearms, there were safe ways to wield such weapons in order to prevent harm from befalling her or those around her.
But her goal for the first time in her life was to harm herself. For someone she cared for, yes. For someone greater than her, most certainly. Yet she felt her heart pounding against her chest as if it knew what was coming, and feared it. Protested it. But she did not bother listening to it. She'd seen what the experiments had uncovered about her. She knew exactly what she truly was.
If this was coming from Lord Maximilian himself, she had no reason to doubt it was true.
No. She was human at the end of the day. She wasn't a mere weapon like the Valkyria of old. She was choosing these powers. She wasn't rejecting her humanity. She chose to do what she did for the one she loved.
With no more need for thought, she shifted the dagger in her hands and thrust it onto her chest with all the force she could muster, the skin was cut away with ease as the blade moved through it as it was designed to do, and blood began to gush out like a stream. She swallowed as the pain shot through her body like an electric shock; thunder throughout her nerves and a burning pain in her chest where the blade remained. But she didn't scream.
The sudden flashes of pain aside, she glanced up to see Lord Maximilian smile slightly.
"Good, Selvaria, good. Bear with it."
Droplets of blood now spilled to the floor, and she struggled to stand. Her lip quivered as her vision faded. Her grip on the dagger loosened as she tried to force herself to remain standing. She'd handled terrible burns and cuts before, but for the first time her body was screaming at her that something was terribly wrong, that she would die if she didn't find something to fix the damage done.
Trembling, she almost stumbled as she released the dagger in her chest and reached for something to hold onto.
For a split second, she thought Lord Maximilian had offered his arm, but that was impossible. He was still several feet away. Just as she saw this, a horrid blue glow suddenly filled the room around her and her vision cleared. Lord Maximilian's smile widened. She glanced at what she'd grabbed onto and saw a strange, metallic shield someone had placed in front of her. Two of Lord Maximilian's aides stepped back, having delivered the ancient weapons to her. When had they gotten there? Her perception of time felt… off. Had Lord Maximilian called for them?
Suddenly the bloodied dagger fell from her chest and she felt her body fill with strength. The horrid blue glow intensified, her stomach churning at the memories it brought up, but she pushed all that aside. She suddenly understood what could be done, as if instinct guided her hands. Millennia of war seemed to course through her veins as she gripped the ancient shield and removed a metallic lance from it entirely on instinct. The terrible glow blue light turned into a bluish flame that she quickly controlled so it did not damage her surroundings further. Beneath her, the drops of blood withered away to nothing, the floor suddenly clean again.
There she stood.
A Valkyria.
Lord Maximilian smiled at her, and it filled her with resolve as she returned the smile with one of her own.
January 28, 2021
West Virginia
"Get off of him, you goddamn animals!"
The words had come in as a blur amidst the kicks and grunts of pissed-off teenagers. However, it didn't take a genius to tell that the sudden halting of the kicks came because of it. He opened his eyes wide and slowly sat up, his arms no longer over his head as the principal and the security guard pulled the three guys off of him.
"He start-" the tallest of the guys tried, but was cut off by the principal.
"My office! Now!" the man shouted.
"But he started it!"
"Now!"
The guard led the guys away, while the Principal stood over him.
"You alright, mister Earp?"
He stood up slowly. Nothing particularly hurt too bad. His arm had a few bruises he could see, and he wondered if his sides were equally red, but he doubted anything was physically broken. With a face he tried to make brave but he was certain fell short, he only nodded.
He ignored the looks the kids gave him as they disappeared down the hall.
The Principal, taking out his phone, then said "Alright, just… tell me what happened, I'll jot it down here so you don't have to be in the same room with those savages."
Ron said "I think they figure I narc'd them, sir. Uh, they asked me… James-"
"Jefferson or Liam?"
"Liam. He asked if I'd told someone they were bringing Adderall to class. Said someone told his mom. I said I hadn't. Guess he didn't like that answer."
"Kid should be behind bars. Alright, head to class."
"But I-"
"No buts. You know how bad it can get. Drugs kill, and if kids aren't starting with pot and blunts it's over-the-counter crap. Gateways into worse stuff. You're saving their lives, Ron."
He bristled at the words, but hid it as his principal patted his shoulder.
"Alright, head to class. I'll uh… I'll make sure they don't bother you."
With that, the man turned around and walked away. He was left in an empty hall with a few posters about math and motivation staring back at him. Quietly, he walked to his next class. The teacher did not ask why he was late. His classmates only stared at him for a second before the subject quickly changed to some variation of "Solve for X".
He couldn't care.
At lunch, no one spoke to him, but he sensed eyes on him as he ate his grilled cheese. James and his guys weren't at lunch. Nor were they at any of the other classes. He just didn't see them the rest of the day. He kept his jacket on, hopeful it would hide the already clearing bruises on his arms, and glad his face hadn't suffered any noticeable damage.
The bus ride home was quiet and routine.
Once home, Grandma was quick to greet him and put him to work.
"Ah, Ronnie, good! Register." She said a touch chipper than usual.
There were a few girls there already. Older. Seniors, he was sure. They smiled at him as they waited in line. Their gold and brown hair mixed with their winter clothes caused him to imagine towns in Canada or Alaska, where everyone bundled with their puffy, colorful coats and winter hats, even if there was almost no snow out and the weather was quickly warming.
The first girl placed a simple diet coke on the counter and kept her conversation with her friends. He took the five dollars and handed her back her change, then the clique walked off to take a table inside, where it was warmer. They eyed their phones, talked to each other, showed something on their phone to one another, giggled about something he didn't catch. He averted his gaze after a second, realizing it must be a bit creepy to stare at them, and really now, did he need people thinking he was a pervert alongside a narc?
"So, high school! What are you planning on studying after?" Grandma asked suddenly, now that there was no one on the register and he was just standing there.
"I… I don't know." he admitted quietly.
"Well, you gotta have a career somewhere. You ain't staying here on that register, that's for damn sure."
He felt a knot in his throat. Was she hoping to get rid of him? Did she want him gone? He swallowed that, and spoke quietly.
"I don't know if I'm going to be good at much."
Grandma scoffed.
"Maybe with that attitude, but…" lowering her voice to a whisper, "But in this day and age, anyone can be anything, so don't beat yourself up over being dumb. What do you wanna do?"
He frowned.
Want to do? What kind of question was that?
"I don't know, Grandma. Helping out, I guess?"
"Oh come on, you have some things you like, don't you?"
"Watching movies, I guess, but I don't want to be an actor."
"Oh, good. Those snobs make money but lose their souls… I don't know, Ronnie. But you gotta decide for yourself."
"W-why can't I stay here helping?"
Grandma shrugged, then reached into her pocket for a smoke.
"Grandma?"
Before she lit it, she said "It's not that you can't, Ronnie, but… come on, look at you. You stand there, waiting for customers, you don't talk to anyone much. It's dead-end. Won't ever pay much. Don't you want something more?"
That struck him.
More?
"Hey, Ronnie!"
He turned, seeing Officer Clara waltz in with a wide smile.
"Officer Clara." he replied courtly.
"The usual, please!" she said, handing him a ten-dollar bill.
He nodded and took the money just as she asked the question he was dreading.
"Heard you help get some users in their place. Not bad."
He felt himself shrink slightly.
"You ever consider joining the force?" she asked suddenly.
As if on instinct, he blurted out "Good Lord, no!"
Officer Clara appeared a bit confused by that.
He quickly added "I… I just don't want to be seen doing things, you know?"
"Ohh, I gotcha, I gotcha. Maybe something… you want to stay in state?"
"Why's everyone asking about what I wanna do?"
"Because your grandma's asking around." She replied, grinning like someone twenty years younger.
So a ten-year-old.
Grandma walked out with her order, and grumbled "He's not sure what he wants to do."
"Well, Susan, to be fair, he's sixteen."
"And still here." he added as Grandma began to mess with his hair.
Ignoring him, Grandma said "I just don't want him being stuck here. He should have options, right? Nothing wrong with that, right?"
"Well, being a cop does open up some doors. Then again, if you want to be discreet about things, maybe try something like one of those customer support phone people."
"Do those pay well?" Grandma asked.
"I dunno. My mom worked as one and it paid alright, but that was in the 70s."
He finally said "I don't think I'd be that great there."
Grandma said "Well, not with that attitude. But you really should think it over. Plenty of jobs opening up now that the Pandemic's pretty much over."
Clara added, "Yeah, chin up, kiddo. We're rooting for ya."
"Thanks." he managed, as the policewoman picked up her bag and left.
Witht the shop now empty, he sat back against the wall and reached for his phone. Going over it, he ignored the few messages asking if he had indeed narc'd on James and his guys. Instead, he glanced at the latest movie trailers. Hollywood seemed like it was trying to catch up for the year of lacking films with new trailers and-
He internally frowned at the advertisement he immediately got when he tapped on the supposedly "new" trailer for "A Quiet Place: Part 2". Even if he was sure the trailer was just a reupload of the first trailer, did he really need an Army ad right before an ad for a film?
But he didn't hit the "skip" option.
He stared at the advertisement for the US Army. It was cheesy. A fifty second long "Q&A" where a guy with his head fully shaved tried to sell the viewer benefits of signing up. "Any career" could be pursued, plus "free education", plus "opportunities". But he stared as the guy's last words came in.
"I believe that anybody that kind of feels like they're wandering around in life, that needs a purpose and direction, the Army provides that for you."
Emily Blunt with a shotgun soon replaced the view on his phone's screen, but his mind focused on those last few words he'd heard. He got another message asking if he'd narc'd on James and his guys. Grandma called him over to help clean some grease she'd spilt.
He pocketed his phone and went on with his day.
1933
East Europa
She had not entirely expected a pitched battle.
When Lord Maximilian told her to go and evaluate a second Valkyria candidate which would be working with another unit, she'd expected to encounter someone more mature. At least, those were her expectations until she realized the subject was someone from the same facility as her. Even then, her expectations had been somewhat tempered by the woman's immaturity. Perhaps a tantrum wouldn't have been so out of the ordinary.
Then again, it was another Valkyria she was facing.
Crymaria Levin had been one of the various girls she'd briefly encountered at that cursed facility. "Gotten to know" was not the best description, not when they'd seen each other without speaking, but back then there had not been much to gain from a glance as she had been just as sad as any of the other girls she'd encountered there. Now grown up, it was painfully clear why Maximilian had picked her and not Crymaria. The woman was by no means "weak", in fact her raw power surpassed her own.
As the explosions of ice made the relatively dry land around them appear like an arctic wasteland, she could see why discipline and control of her powers mattered more than their raw output. In theory, she was certain Crymaria could overwhelm an entire nation with her Valkyria powers. But she was lost in her own emotions, gripped by a powerful denial of the reality she faced, and yet a contradictory acceptance of it. She was "fighting to survive" and nothing more, yet…
As more detestable blue beams had shot at her, she'd effectively evaded and noticed the lack of control around it all. A train engine ablaze and with no conductor, just running down everything in its path. Crymaria screamed and wailed as more and more power erupted forth, but it could all so easily be countered. She'd evade, she'd strike, then evade again, until Crymaria inevitably burnt herself out.
She'd been left there, a crying mess, aware of her own weakness and only that. A pitiful sight at best. Certainly not fit to be used by any competent force. Not in combat.
Still, Selvaria Bles was not someone who'd simply ignore the potential the woman had. From a purely objective standpoint, she could be employed as a powerful strategic asset by the Eastern Europan Imperial Alliance. She just needed the right push– the right motivation.
Truly, the challenge lay in passing that information to one Heinrich Belgar.
The man never dropped his polite smile as she gave her after-action report. She had to wonder if his occasional chuckling was some attempt at provoking her or if his true personality leaked out of joy that he now had a potential new toy. But she was Lieutenant Colonel now. Dealing with immature officers was not unknown to her. The real problem was that he had his own command, separate from her.
So, she tried to remind him of one simple fact.
"Valkyria are human– flesh and blood."
"Of course. That is why there is meaning in making them." came the condescending response.
Internally she frowned, but she maintained her calm demeanor as she added "Crymaria is the strongest and weakest of the Valkyria. Be careful how you handle her, lest you break her…" then, hoping to add some weight to her warning, "...or she breaks you."
"Yes, yes. I know. Gathering accurate data from C12 is crucial to my research. I'll take good care of it-" he cleared his throat at her glare, then corrected himself to conclude with, "...her."
The exchange only left her feeling disgusted. The man was no different than those of the facility who tortured her, marveling at her power. Perhaps he was worse. Had it not been for her abilities and Lord Maximilian's intervention, she was sure she'd be in not much different a position from the woman she'd fought earlier.
Now out alone in the halls of the Siegval Line, concerns bit at her conscience.
Crymaria, weak-willed despite her immense power, would now begin her training to be another tool in the Empire's arsenal. She doubted Belgar held the reservations of Lord Maximilian. Few in the Empire really shared her Lord's kindness. What that meant for Crymaria Levin…
Would it have been crueler to leave her to be disposed of?
She scowled at the ground as she walked down the halls of the Empire's main line of defense against the Federation to their west. It was the simple objective reality that it would be better for everyone if Crymaria lived and served. She needed to realize that she'd be happier if she just…
Thoughts of Lord Maximilian in mind, she marched down the halls and to the barracks. She would have asked for directions, but it would be unnecessary. Belgar's men kept their distance from one of the rooms, and upon approach, she could hear soft, almost imperceptible sobbing.
She knocked on the door.
"Crymaria? That's you in there, isn't it?"
She heard a half-startled, half-angry exclamation come from within. When no other response came forth, she opened the door and stepped into the darkened room.
"What are you doing here?" Crymaria's words dripped with poison.
She didn't let that affect her as she calmly replied, "To report the results of your appraisal."
Crymaria scoffed slightly, as if the effort wasn't even worth it, then said "Some test that was. It doesn't matter if I pass or fail. It only changes whether the end to my suffering comes now or later–"
At those words, she made up her mind. The despair she recognized in them was all too familiar. But she'd gotten past that, and she had to let her know that she could as well.
"Listen, Crymaria." she chose her words carefully, but she needed them to be clear, "We're the same. We have the same power, the same sadness. The only difference is that I had a fateful encounter. I found something worth living for and a place where I belong."
The words were honest, but perhaps too matter-of-fact. Crymaria's face contorted, not quite in anger, but in frustration, not unlike a hurt child.
"I've waited all my life for a prince to whisk me away… but I'll never be chosen. Nobody's coming to save me!"
Placing her hands on her shoulders and hoping her words got through, Selvaria replied, "Believe me, there is hope for you. Cling to that and use it to survive."
"There's no way a chance meeting could turn someone's whole life around. That's fairy tale nonsense."
The words cut deeper than she expected.
She didn't let it show. She even tried to argue against it. That was what love was, wasn't it? She had changed because someone had saved her and given her a reason to fight. She had someone she cared for. She had somewhere to belong. A reason to control her power. That was true. That was the big difference between her and the woman in front of her. She tried to communicate the fact. Tried to help her see that even if they were ultimately weapons for others to use, there was hope, there was a brighter future.
It didn't work.
"I don't need your platitudes! Leave me be, Selvaria!"
So be it…
"Farewell. I pray that our encounter was a fateful one, too."
She gently closed the door behind her.
It was dark out now. Crymaria would get her happy ending. She was sure of it. After all, she had her fateful encounter already. Surely, even if the other woman couldn't understand it, she'd eventually find some reason to keep living. Someone to cherish.
Surely.
No. She had no doubt in her mind about it. She glanced out at the starry sky above. The world could be terribly cruel, but there were glimmers of kindness within it. Brutal memories swirled within her, but she could easily push them away. She had her home. She had someone to live for.
So why was it suddenly so difficult to smile?
January 8, 2022
West Virginia, USA
Their dinner room really hadn't changed much since they'd adopted him. He always sat around the table with them. Grandma smiled once as he ate, but always focused on her own meel. Her beef steak was, as usual, well done and tasted alright. Grandpa was quiet as he half-paid attention to the news on his phone.
It had been a rough couple of years, but they were still there. Ronnie Reagan, age 17, soon to be 18. As he chewed, and he saw that neither of his grandparents were particularly chatty tonight, he decided there and then to bring it up.
In a way, it felt like the last step before it was truly settled.
"So… I think I'm going to enlist."
They turned to him.
"Enlist?" Grandma asked.
"Army, Marines, Air Force, or Navy?"Grandpa asked.
"Army." he replied.
Grandpa scoffed, then said "I reckon Marines get more action, but… pay is good, I think. Anything in particular?"
"Infantry."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Planes and tanks are cool and all, but I think I can work better walking, you know?"
Grandpa nodded, grinning, "Well, that's better than some of the other stuff you can do around here. Granted, we'll probably miss you at the cafe."
Grandma clasped her hands and said, "But an Army check is going to help a lot more! Maybe you get to go overseas and meet some nice girls, or-" she gasped, "Or maybe we can finally travel a bit!"
"Girls? Plural?" Grandpa asked, strangely less interested in the latter part of her suggestion.
"Yes, girls plural, he has to have options, hon! Should only pick one, of course, but you know… options!" Grandma spoke casually.
It was oddly shocking.
"Wait, so… you guys are okay with it?" he asked, failing to hide the surprise in his voice.
"Of course! Look, it's a small town, and I'd rather you be with the Army than some junkies. Maybe bring home a nice German girl… or Middle Eastern, I don't judge." Grandma said quickly.
Grandpa just grunted in agreement, while giving a side-eye he knew hid some disdain for the last part of Grandma's sentence. Still, it was more than he expected.
"Then… yeah! I'll go meet up with the recruiter so that once high school's done, if you guys sign, I can probably ship out right after graduation." he said, smiling slightly. A way to make money for himself and them, and it'd take him away from an area that he really didn't add much to. A win-win.
"Great, we'll start on that tomorrow. I think I know a few guys that can also orient you." Grandpa patted his shoulder slightly, then went back to the news while Grandma went back to eating.
So… just like that.