28th of June 1914. The Hidden Cellar, Russia’s Top-Secret Base.
Weaving through the darkness, footsteps left by a figure in black-hooded cloth mingle in the dimly lit corridor. The sound of metal creaking breaks the silence inside the heavily fortified cellar after the iron door connecting to the passage opens.
“It's only been two days-” as if anticipating the arrival of the figure in a hooded black cloth, a hoarse voice comes from the inside as soon as the figure steps into the room.
There, at the center, heavy chains connect the thick metal wall to the four limbs of the bulky man, making him suspended in the middle. A few peepholes lined up in the wall. Strays of the moon's luminescence coming from the reflection of the lake pass through that aperture every time the moon peeks through the dark clouds. They cast upon gentle sheen in his masculine body and illuminated a small part of the chamber. Maybe due to the pain he is feeling or due to the luster brought by the moonlight, his body shook as the moon's afterglow shows his dye red body.
“I thought it needs to take another three days more for a decision to reach” a dignified baritone voice continued. Accompanied by a burst of hearty laughter, the loud and manly voice full of disdain barrage the black-clothed figure in the room, “Hesitant corrupts, face your doom!”
Consecutive loud crisps echo as the figure in black slaps the man’s face, repeatedly. The man's head hung low, sharp-face fatigued. His veins are visibly throbbing due to the intense pressure that they endure. His waist, pulsating from the burden of a heavy metal ball, show signs of ruptures yet heals visibly in the naked eyes.
Panting from the excessive hitting, the opposition slowly removes the hood’s outer garment. Surprisingly, it's a figure of a woman. It is a splendid 36-24-36 hourglass figure. She wore a pair of black tight-fit sleeveless upper clothing and jeans. Her black hair, gleaming in the darkness, is as smooth as silk. Shoulders that look so tender from the red hue it gives. She has a slender waist that accentuated the deadliness of her figure and the Nagant M1895 revolver she's carrying. Thighs that were so sexy make you suffocate by seeing it alone, yet an army knife is there to make you jealous by hugging that thigh.
With a passionate and meaningful gaze, she slowly makes her way towards the man's ear. Leaning forward until her soft lips touch and makes the earlobes moist from her hot breath, “I say-” she pauses for a moment.
“I have come here to give a proposal to you, what do you say?” a rare contralto voice whispered in the now dimly lit room. She withdraws a step back and faced the man.
Like a wolf that has found its prey, the man’s intellectual-gleaming eyes stared at the woman deeply. Sneering along with every word, he said, “A proposal, you say? More like an order! Hah! You witch!”
Blood flowed as gunshot reverberated; the bullet leaves as the revolver's cylinder created a turning noise. With a clink of a gear, the cylinder opens and the now empty cartridge fall into the solid ground, producing chimes that mingle along the trickling of blood.
As the crimson liquid dyed the right thigh of the man, the woman returns the cylinder before blowing the smoke rising from the revolver's muzzle towards the man's striking face. Walking closer, the vibration of the knife unsheathing and the sound of metal stabbing into flesh resonated one after another in the room.
“Is that all you got? Is this torture for you?” an insane cry of pity leaves the man's mouth as he bellowed.
“You will need to eat lots of your kind to gain a foothold in front of me!” derisive and contempt mix in a beautiful curse were directed blatantly in full display. A smile formed in his mouth as he added mockingly, “How could I forget that you already transcended the time of cannibalism, oh humans…”
The hollering of profanity fills the room thereafter but did not manage to escape the fortified cellar.
As the time tick and blood trickle, the man starts to show signs of agony. Contrary, the lady seems to enjoy her act of transgression and mischief.
A rhythmically melodious sound of flesh twisting from the boring of an army knife is filling the room. The shot created by the bullet in the man's thigh is now incomparable to the size of the knife's wound in his chest.
As the trickling of liquids dripping from the man's upper-right chest permeates the space, the repulsive smell of blood thickened. The woman, on the other hand, spoke calmly, “Mr. Andrusha Fredek Lykos, do you want the Russian Government to be your enemy?”
In a solemn tone of voice, the man called Andrusha replies aggressively, “It is a foolish thing to make me your enemy!”
Distancing herself, she left the stabbed knife in the man's chest. Stretching her arms like a newly awoken puppy fully accentuated her voluptuous curves.
“Still awesome, amazing regeneration ability Mr. Andrusha!” she remarks while sighing in resignation.
Wiping out the blood in her hands, she asks Andrusha in a contemplative manner:
“I bet that your tribes' offspring would be better to communicate with, don’t you agree?”
A roar accompanied by the squeaking of chains as Andrusha struggled fiercely. His nails are starting to grow in length, so as his canines. The lady turned back and patted the right cheek of Andrusha as if an owner petting her cute, lovely dog.
“Isn't it just the Oymyakon? It might be far but within a reasonable distance. Be a good dog, and your tribe will be fine. We need your strength for the World War-” grinning coquettishly, she turned around and walked happily like a little sister next door who won an argument against her love rival. Halting for a few seconds, she turned her head back to Andrusha while her hair flail in the air, “I will leave the door open, and by the time the wolf moon shows up in this place, I guess you know where to proceed."
Leaving those words behind, her footsteps gradually fade away in the long corridor. A mournful sigh coming from the inside resounded as her figure was swallowed by the darkness, regaining the tranquility the place once had.
Minutes after the woman leaves, Andrusha’s anguished voice travels in the passageway, “Why?”
“Don’t we also deserve to live a peaceful life?” feeling the immensity of the situation at hand, he howled in misery.
“It is your alliance system conflict and promises to Serbia! Why do we need to get involve and shed blood for your sake!?” cries of injustice at the feet of Mount Yamantau lingers throughout the quiet night.
Two days later in the Ural Mountains, Beloretsky District, Bashkortostan, Russia.
A man surrounded by heavy infantry is making his way towards the military camp. He is wearing a tall gray fleece cap with flaps of wool in his head. A greenish khaki tunic and pants are fitted in his muscular physique. The greatcoat that drapes on his shoulder barely covers his figure. His knee-length boots shine as the sunlight kisses its surface.
“Open the gate!” a soldier with a sergeant military rank shouted towards the guard in the watchtower.
As the sentry man signaled, the entrance in the front unlocks. In the process, the posterns of the garrison wall burst out of military men. They form a semi-circle to cover both sides of the paved road and the retreat of the heavy infantry.
“Move!” the platoon commander leading the defense team commanded from the front after the gates are fully opened. The artillery guns and infantrymen aimed towards the incoming heavy infantry. These cold weapons ranging from small to huge are enough to make even the most veteran soldier on the battlefield nervous.
The group proceeded forward as the heavy infantry was slowly engulfed by the unease. Barely keeping their composure, some of them already started to sweat and show signs of high-strung tenseness. Fortunately, it didn’t last long as an officer wearing the uniform of a company commander finally welcomes the newly-arrived unit.
“Sir, escorting mission is completed! Requesting permission for dismissal!” saluted the sergeant.
The company commander acquiesced with a confirmation. Turning sideways, he added, “Mr. Andrusha, the battalion commander is waiting. Follow me, please.”
Following the company commander, Andrusha in his greatcoat arrives at a room that looks to be a planning area. Turning the doorknob and entering, he looks over to his right and found a man arranging files on his table.
“I am Bn.C. Aleksandr Lev. I’m in charge of you. Now, read this and ask your question after.”
Aleksandr adeptly throws over a piece of parchment from his hand without even turning his gaze towards Andrusha.
Unbothered by the attitude shown by Aleksandr, Andrusha nimbly caught the paper in the air. He then turns around to pick a chair and set it near the working table. As soon as he sat down, a snort coming from behind sounded.
Settling down, Andrusha starts to read the letter.
“Contract Agreement
For the sustenance of the country, the military concedes to give amnesty and peace to the party behind Andrusha Fredek Lykos.”
Reading up to this part makes Andrusha crease his brows. Nonetheless, he continued.
“It is in exchange for their participation in the upcoming World War.
This is effective immediately upon signing.
The contract will be voided if the signee DISAGREES to be the VANGUARD.”
After reading through the agreement enclosure, Andrusha’s face contorted in rage. He straightaway questioned Aleksandr, “How could this be a contract agreement? This is a threat!”
“That is not right Mr. Andrusha, clearly you read that it states the word contract agreement.” Aleksandr put down his pen and answer condescendingly.
“You are our existence if we don’t participate! Yet, you want us to be the cannon fodder for this war that you, humans, created! Both sides are dead ends for us! How can you make us sacrifice ourselves for the sake of your so-called sustenance?” with veins bulging in his neck from anger, Andrusha hollered.
“Of course, we do not! We just want you to be the vanguard, to be in the frontline. We do not want you to die. But, if you die, the country won’t forget your contributions.” Aleksandr answered.
Seething with rage, Andrusha retort, “Aren’t you afraid we’ll annihilate you by joining the opposition?”
“Yes, we’re afraid. We are very afraid. However, we have Oymyakon” Aleksandr acted his way out mockingly.
Bottling up his discontent, Andrusha replied almost immediately in a grim voice, “Just make sure not to touch our younglings and we’ll be good”
“Suit yourself.” Aleksandr replied as he followed Andrusha outside.
Andrusha soon left the room before storming outside the military base. Seeing Andrusha’s actions, Aleksandr smirks and go back to his barracks.
A while later after Andrusha left, a sexy figure of a lady visited Aleksandr.
“Monitor him for a month and make sure he will obey the General’s order when the time comes.”
Standing up from his seat, Aleksandr performs a salute. The lady, however, waves her hand in dismissal. “If he doesn’t cooperate, initiate the plan of using the children in Oymyakon.”
“Ma’am Fayina…” looking at the figure leaving, Aleksandr executes a military salute as a sign of affirmation with longing eyes as he muttered those words.
