The snow hurt, it burned. I laid there alone, my body hurt. I looked down and saw my skin and said aloud "I look like a prune", my voice was dry, it hurt to speak, I coughed. I turned over onto my stomach, my face full of the warm fluffy snow but my face started to burn so I weakly lifted my face and started to crawl like a roach nearing death after being crushed with a shoe. My legs, I couldn't feel them. I crawled for what seems like forever, my blood frozen over. I crawled more, I couldn't feel my body, I nearly gave up before I saw a flame. It's a village. I see the people burning but I can't help them. I see spikes being driven through them. These people wield hammers the size of a man, maybe bigger. I see one walk towards me. He wears chainmail covered in cloth, and on his chest I can see the symbol of Hatmeth and Nurgle on him, it's a nail and hammer formed in a cross shape. The man wears a steel mask that covers his face completely, and in his hand he holds a long stake and in the other his hammer was braced on his shoulder. The stake I can see more clearly now that he's closer, was a giant nail. The man seemingly a giant to me speaks, his voice was strong and commanding showing no remorse. "Well, well, well look what we have here." he continues. "If it isn't the face of that blasted war, Gregor." The strong man doesn't stop his speech. "I remember seeing you on the posters, your face was plastered in every piece of propaganda. Now look at you, you couldn't look worse! You look like a dried up cooked fish. Now I have the pleasure to nail you down in the almighty name of the lord Nurgel!" The man began to raise his hammer high. I started to look at the man in resignation coming to pass with my fate. Suddenly…
"Boom!" a bullet was driven through the man's head in a bloody red splatter coming into contrast with the now crisp white snow. I look over and see a friend of mine, Rodion. Who speaks, her voice teasing. "Greg, you've seen better days~". I didn't have the strength to say anything back and slowly my eyes fluttered shut and I passed out. When I awoke I was in the back of a jeep being driven by Rodion. She was tall, her chestnut brown hair was long, reaching her hips and her eyes were blue like ice. I could see her axe and rifle in the passenger seat along with a package which was fairly small. I look at my hands to see some color, it seems the T.E.A.R.S. (Technically Ethical Artificial Recovery Serum) works its wonders quite well. I see a cup of water and weakly reach for it. Rodion saw this via her rearview mirror and handed the water to me. She said, "C'mon Greg drink up, lord knows you need to hydrate when you look like a dried up grape." I drink the water holding my sore throat. I finally gained the strength to speak. "So, Rodya, what brought you here to the middle of nowhere?" I ask but I already know the answer. She answers, "Well I can't just let my best friend die can I~" her voice teasing but the hint of worry behind her eyes was evident. I speak my voice calm, lacking its usual playfulness, "Thank you, Rodya." I said with genuine thankfulness. Before I could see the look on Rodion's face I fell asleep still tired from the encounter.
I awoke once more, this time the jeep was not moving. My eyes were half open and felt heavy as I struggled to wake up. I sat up and looked out the jeep's window to see that Rodion was talking to someone. It was a blonde haired man, his face was timid and he was fairly short being around 5 '4 he must've been no older than at least 16, his eyes were a leafy green and I could see he had a slight tremble to himself. I couldn't hear what he and Rodion were talking about so I left the vehicle but accidentally stood up too fast and got a slight headache. As I walked over I found the man's name was Sinclair. But what I was wondering is why they sent him, so I whispered to Rodion "Hey Rodya, why was he here?". Rodion looked over at me and said back, "He's from the French military, one more was meant to be coming. They're from Spain." A second later an incredibly short, young woman seemingly in her early twenties charges in with a lance in hand. "MY NAME IS DON QUIXOTE AND I AM HAPPY TO MAKE ACQUAINTANCES WITH YOU ALL". I chuckle to myself due to the absurdity of the person claiming to be the great windmill fighter. I talk in a teasing tone towards the absurd woman, "Glad to know we have someone to call in case of a ferocious windmill." The woman quiets down seemingly to be flustered, it was quite evident via her flushed cheeks. I watch as she tilts her head downward looking at the floor. I look towards Rodion and quietly ask her in a sound nearing a whisper but not quite. "Aye, why does she call herself Don Quixote?" Rodion looks at me with a quizzical look on her face. "Greg, darling, why would I know?" I speak back, "..." I take a brief pause, my voice making a slight hum. Then I said, "because you're the one that brought us here?" Rodion spoke, "Greg I only knew we'd be meeting people not that I'd know their entire lives." I let out a slight grumble but then figured I'll just figure that out when the hero wanted to tell us, and let it go quite quickly.
We got in the jeep. I ended up in the middle while Rodion still drove the jeep. I look into the rearview mirror and see my eyes looking back at me. They look like the underside of a roach. I quickly averted my eyes in disgust, I hate it. I look to my left and see Don, she looks a little flustered still but seemed to have gotten over it for the most part. I still feel bad. I speak up to lighten the mood of the jeep somewhat. "Oh wow, it looks like Frosty threw up his guts out there, but at least it looks pretty." Don Quixote seemed to have her face brightened up quite a bit at the mention of the snow outside, I guess she hasn't looked out the window yet. "Ohhhhhh! 'Tis the snow thus spoketh of in stories many, of this winter wonderland." Rodion spoke up, "Oh if you think it's pretty right now just wait until we get to Moscow, it's gonna blow your socks off!" Sinclair who's been pretty quiet perked up at the mention of Moscow. "Oh I read about Moscow in the pamphlets they gave us on the plane ride here. I do want to see St. Basil's Cathedral, it seems quite colorful." I looked to Sinclair who was to the right of me, he isn't shaking anymore but seems to be more so shivering. It was understandable given the frigid air. His eyes looked slightly glazed over seemingly to be deep in thought. Although his mouth was open and catching flies. Looking in his jacket I saw a small handgun in it. He was still shivering and I was getting slightly worried so because I'm a responsible adult I took off my coat and put it over him, the shivering seemed to go down after that. I then stared out the window observing the fluffy white snow. As the jeep ride goes on Rodion makes small talk with the other passengers. "So where are you from Sinny?" Sinclair would jump from the sudden noise breaking the silence. "Well Ms. Raskolnikov I'm from Sweden…" Rodion gave a slight look of surprise towards Sinclair through the rearview mirror. "Really? From your name you sounded French." Sinclair looked at Rodion with a brief understanding. "I get that a lot."
We reached our destination which was where we will be meeting our guide but he's late so we have to wait. While we waited I finally got a good look at Don Quixote, she was incredibly short around 5'3 but probably 5'2. Her eyes look like they've been marinated in sunlight. And her hair looks like strands of gold evidently styled in a bob. I looked at her shoes and on the side it said Rocinante… she must be really into playing the bit. "So Hero Bud, where ya from?" I light a cigarette and smoke. Don's eyes light up as she answers, "One was from lands far away where a mighty hero once roamed and protected all of his people!" I should've known I wouldn't get a straight answer… I looked over to Rodion and she seemed to be thinking of something. I asked her a question I had been wondering about for a bit. "Hey, Rodya, how did you find me out there?" She looked at me and smirked, "Your little roach led me~" I looked to my side and saw a little roach perched on my shoulder. "Ahhh, that makes sense." I use my pointer finger to pet the roach. "Thanks Kafka." I smile at the bug as I take another drag of my cigarette. Rodion looks at me, her face quizzical. "Why were you out in the snow in the first place?" I look at her willingly giving her my answer. "Well, I was on my way through the snow but I was near a road so I hitched a ride with some family, they were nice people. Unfortunately things didn't turn out well whenever we ran into a bandit rundown point. They started with the father, then the mother, the son, then they got to me. They beat the shit out of me. I managed to run leaving my weapons behind which was why I got nothin' with me." Rodion looked at me and then laughed. "Greg, are you telling me you got your ass kicked by street crooks!" She was now officially on the ground laughing. I got embarrassed and turned my head away from her, taking another drag of my cigarette. My face feels hot and flushed. I'm embarrassed. Rodion laughed harder. "Greg, your ears look like they're burning with how red they are!" To avert myself from the embarrassment I look over at Don and Sinclair. They seemed to be having a nice conversation so I eavesdropped. Sinclair was the first one I heard. "How can you Idealize fixers so much?" Don's eyes grew bright and it nearly seemed as if they emitted their own light. "Fixers are valiant heroes of today, they protect the weak and right all wrongs! How can thou not admire these heroic heroes!?" Sinclair speaks with his finger to his chin. "Well I guess when you put it like that, they do seem amazing…" I chime in. "Hero Bud, you do know that fixers are basically glorified mercenaries that do charity work occasionally?" Don Quixote looked at me and waved her hand at me in a dismissive manner. "Nay I say, NAY! Fixers art amazing people who protect the weak!" I listened to her then decided not to say anything more so as not to ruin her fantasies.
We wait longer, and longer, and even longer… until finally. A tall man arrived, his hair was gray and styled as being split down the middle. Even his skin seems an ashy gray as he walks over wearing a pin stripe suit. But his most glaring feature was (literally) his striking red eyes. They seem like they emit glow drawing attention to the rest of his face where I see a feature I nearly missed. His lips had a vertical scar over the leftmost of his lips. There were two people accompanying him, one was a man of average height, his hair was jet black unkempt but it was shaped like a bulb. He had deeply sunken bags under his eyes and wore a company issued coat over his white button up with a black tie. He wore his coat more like a cape but saw he had a small dagger at his side. On his coat it says "Yi Sang". And then there was a woman too. She was the same height as me, she wore the same coat as Yi Sang except she wears it correctly although instead of some corporate button up she wore a white turtleneck. Her skin was pale, she had rosy cheeks, white hair, and pale blue eyes. On her coat it said "Faust"
The gray man spoke up, "My name was Virgilius." There was a dramatic pause. "I'll be your guide." Don jumped up and down in joy. "Is it possible that thou could be 'The Red Gaze'!?" A split second later her jaw was ripped off by Virgilius. Sinclair let out a loud shriek. Yi Sang walked over calmly and poured a vial of T.E.A.R.S. on her mouth. In a minute, her jaw completely reformed. I let out a low whistle. "Ain't that quick." The gray man spoke up once more. "Don't yell" Faust stepped up and spoke. "Faust was Faust. If you have questions ask Faust." Her voice lacked any range, and she spoke with a certain clinical detachment. Yi Sang stayed quiet. Don Quixote was still in shock, she obviously was quiet. I stepped up to the man. "Ay, Guide Bud, mind telling us why we were called here?" My voice was ever so slightly muffled by the lit cigarette in my mouth. Vergilius looked at me with a smirk. "Well Mr. Samsa when you joined the military all those years ago, there was a clause on your contract that stated 'If needed, the signer will be called if needed for any event of Military Disbandment' that means when you signed your military contract, whenever the military squadron you were apart of disbanded you could be called for any reason. Even if the reason was to go to a store and buy some collectors items. Via this contract you effectively become Government property. But you see a certain company bought all of your contracts. This means your all company property, no better than a rifle shot by a soldier." From my perspective this man now looked sadistic, like he was proud, or happy to be telling us this. From what I could understand from what he said although; it meant all of us were in the military for our country at some point. I thought to myself after catching my bearings, 'This bastard didn't answer my question!' It was infuriating nonetheless. Faust stepped up, her eyes detached from reality seemingly staring at nothing. "We all were called together for one sole purpose…" Dramatic pause. "...to collect an artifact that belonged to Lobotomy Corporation, L Corp was a research and development organization. The corporation also developed an object called 'Protens Orbis' which was a ring of amazing power, with it you could change the very aspects of reality around you. It was so strong that it caused a minor singularity and that Wing of L Corp collapsed as it was all underground. Now the organization we work for bought the rights to the ring and it's currently held in the collapsed wing of the corporation." Sinclair raised his hand, Vergilius looked at the trembling boy. "What?" He spoke in an annoyed tone as Sinclair began to speak, his voice trembling into a slight stutter. "W-well, what c-company bought our c-c-contracts?" Sinclair spoke quickly, not wanting to speak for long. Vergilius answered, "None of your business." Sinclair flinched. Rodion stepped up to Vergilius wanting to ask a question. "And how will we be getting there, I don't think that we can all fit in my jeep?" Rodion talked to the guide with an annoyed tone. Virgilus spoke in a mocking tone, "Of course we won't be riding in that shotty old wreck." Yi Sang spoke, "We shall be riding like we are the wuthering wind flowing under a raven's wings." He points to a black minivan. As Rodion and I looked at the Minivan we laughed aloud, I was trying to speak in between my chuckles. "Ha, you- laughs you expect us to ride in that!?" Vergilius glared at us and said, "What are you two laughing about?" We soon stopped.
Virgilius led us to the back of the minivan, opening it up revealing different cases to us. A large case was given to Sinclair, it was actually taller than he was. When the black case was opened it showed a massive halberd with the engraving "Emil Sinclair" on the halberd's side. Along the halberd's hilt was a second engraving that said "Demian" The halberd's design, although basic, was quite effective. After a quick check inside the case there was also a company issued coat inside which Sinclair put on, it even had his company I.D. but for some reason there was no logo nor even the name of the company, just a level that said L2. Rodion spoke up about this. "What kind of company I.D. or coat for that manner, doesn't have the company logo on it or even its name?" While Rodion was talking Faust pulled out her case. Within the case was a large two handed Greatsword which Faust called a Zweihander. On one side of the blade the name Metistopheles was engraved. Sinclair had a question for Faust, "Hey if you already had your coat and they came in the same case as your weapon, why didn't you just take out your weapon then?" Faust had a short simple answer for him, "For dramatic effect." Sinclair was in disbelief. Next on the list seemed to be me. My case was long but not particularly wide. Inside was a fancy rapier. It had one word along the blunt of it, "Outcast". My question wasn't the choice of word, instead it was the choice of weapon. In the military I had only learned a little bit of Military fencing from my commander. He was the best Fenceman in the military. His name was Commander Edgar, he was like a father to me… I finally snap back to reality. I must have been standing there for a while as Rodion already had her axe and Don had her lance. Rodion seemed to have a question. "Hey Guide, why are we only getting melee weapons?" Virgilius had an answer already. "Guns are too expensive with all the bullets and whatnot." He smirked fiendishly. "I'm sure you'll do Fine" We made our way inside the Minivan and a little girl was at the front of the car. She had the same gray skin as Virgilius and wore a conductor's hat. Virgilius spoke up, "This was Charron, she'll be our driver." The girl said her voice was low for a girl her age. "Vroom-Vroom?" Rodion was first to speak. "How old was she?" Virgilius answered, "Around 12." I already knew we were going to crash, as Charron then drove like she was in "Fast and Furious" and had lives to spare.