Cold Loved from the winter streaks

Heavy breathing, impatient and dreaded, a panel made of crystal form In Front from the thin air with scattered smokes across all lanes, running on the fields the figure speaks with the panting and heavy lack of oxygen.

"This is Colonel Vyik, 1st line of grip is lost, I'm requesting retreats to any personnel to regroup at 2th line Fraser, copy all personnel of the 45th megalodon brigades!. Request."

Walking the muddy lands, where battle gear, plate armour and crossbows at hands, walks to the back fronts, walking with slow movement. The sky is dark with industrial smoke, crater across the fields where trees tremble and some fall, other burns as if lightning of god struck the many acres of lands, with the smoky mist covering the unknown ahead of everywhere. Just ahead, a man screaming within the trenches with many surrounding the trenches.

"Corporal! Over Here!!" Almost unseeable from the foggy distance, she ran faster, with what little left for the fragile body. With the screaming continues, the sky start to cracks under immense speed of an object, striking the trenches ground, him ducking towards the dry grounds, with the hell fire erupted from the speeded objects the screaming was turned into the cry of salvation of what's left of their minds a body as the flesh cracks and dry from the heat, other fly towards heaven, dropping with no souls, the heads of a soldier, lying there rips within, burning magma attached to the skins, boiling every organ to a bubbly fathom of

imagination of amalgamation.

The ripped half body drops metres from her, not working, and the blood gushes like a fountain, before ending by the lacking pressure while the boiling blood still bubbles by the heats.

The person with a tangled mind of chaos, nothing feels real, nothing feels powerful, everything is just another afterthought. All the cry dissolves into incoherent buzz as the blast- causes the ears to ring for heaven's, and only the hell was heard. Even with blood surrounding the being with even flood driving on the forehead of his, the boiling magma within him, with the energy to run as fast as she could, moving beside the trenches of hell beside it. Looking towards the sky, with crackling air as many explosions across the fields...

Entering the trenches, nothing to expend on the body, sudden drops of functional muscles, dropping into the trenches, hitting his head on the support beam. Fussing outlook onto the sky's, as suddenly many men come towards the trenches of his, one flying figure, heavily armed, comes in the trenches.

Trapping Her onto the air soldier, Openings hereyes, with little energy left, seeing the high up, ahead on the battlefield, where smokes and burn ground were the aftermath.

With the shining lights, going dark towards the horizons, such an orange sky slowly started to appear with no questions nor answers, making waves for the hollow air to wave, a buzz can only be Heard. I awoke.

The streets across the linear buildings, of stones and woods where stars lighted the pulmonic skies, streets filled with vendors and smokes to enjoy on the nightly fest.

Walking across the stone roads with many strangers, wearing coats and fur coated hats, around the cold old times, hair blossoms with lighted white yellow hairs that stream downwards toward her waist, with dirt and stains which have not glossed for much of time. With her, another figure she follows unto, every part of the festival, which the figure confronts the predicament for the situation of it. Coming close to her, still a ways young exploring the vast world of theirs with the figure in military coats, speaks commands for her, lowering to her heights.

"Anything in mind, do you want to get something?"

Even the eyes, green hues brighten within, as though many stars shining inside. Seems void full and discouraged, with unmoving posture to find an answer within. The sounds of footsteps, the laugh with scream from the vendors, the smell of perfuming and delightful smell of foods, blurred into a chaotic null, nothing is comprehensive nor wanting to comprehend only the figure in front of her that still resembles a human.

"Something in mind, misha?."

The blackout was cut by a response of his, her head tilt towards the stones, the sounds around tighten by the steps.

"No, sir.” I could not remember what had happened, all I can remember is the warmest memories that pierce my mind.

Walking around, with many stalls and views, cherry blossoms with many people's smiles, why don’t I smile in this wonderful time. By the sudden views, something sparks the mind of one self, a pin of a man made worlds, a trophy of war, a teddy bear pin, brown and polished, even with many actions, it still held up as it was brightly new, with it, he saw her eyes,

“Do you have anything in mind, now?” With his questions coming to her, her face, still stoic and unblessed, a light still shining in her eyes for the object of mankind, with no words from her, she points to the item she was interested in, a pin with a teddy bear print to it.

After that, all I can remember was how warm it was.

Two Months later.

A man was sitting inside a jail cells, the walls was concretes, lines of yellows that reaches across the areas, where lies ahead many rooms beyonds, a single beds and a bar on the rooms to keep the inside stays, looking down while in a yellow jumpsuits, the dirty floors that sucks in fresh airs to release smells of sweats that lingers, his sides has a patch of which his number appears, Zero, zero, four, written in white impact fonts in a black square patches. Holding his head while staying in the dirty abyssal, with a ceiling fan blowing towards him, the sounds of steps trickle down to the jail cells, the keys rub with each other, the sounds of metals grinding with the silent hallways.

The boots sound heavy, and it’s not alone, as then, an armed guard appears, with a taser to the side, pepper spray and a pistol, ready to kill, looking down upon me. The guards looking inside the cells, lies a man with no destiny, there with two more guards comes to the cells, while him dwindling inside his imaginations. Guard stands firm and, with elegance and fashion, reads

“Mr Mikhail, please look up,” his voice stoic and calms, as mikhail silence, in trances by the grey floors with many little dots of imperfection

He says, in the same voice

“Your new name will be Lite, keep it at that,” with one of the guards opening the steal doors, where a man was approaching to the guards, Lite, looking slightly, see a man in a white collars, with the guards standby the man get inside the cells while two of the guards join on boards, the other one sitting outsides the man wearing a suit for business, looking on him the material is elegances in quality, on navy blue with the right fits. The man in suit walking up towards him, the guards hostering their firearms ready for any alteration, the man approaches, with a bag on the right hands,

placing it on the dirty floors, which cause debris to pollute some of the airs, as then, he squats down on the levels of lites Lite looks back at his face, his eyes is bright in white with a tint of glow insides, Lite pupils dilated with in the darkness, heart, stretch to its limit, with the skin sweats across for more fluid with hair that is dark brown with a ponytail, his face is muscular and to well trains, with his physique fits for an athletes, he clear up his throat with griddy noise, and says in a calm, kind voices.

“Lite, what did you encounter when you met the person in the Luhansk theatre?” with him, quietly waiting for a responds, But nothing appears

“ You found an anomaly, a person, who broke our laws, what do you think of that? Your squad”

Lite Looking upon him straights, his eye were dark browns and empty, his eyebags is big as his eyelids, tired and empty, his voice roughs yet stiff, with a words coming on his lips

“Fuck off..”

That’s all the heard of Lite, a word so short, his mouth moving erratically, shaking my own words. The man, see his responds, his eyes lowered towards the floors,

“We have an Offer for you. And it's a chance for another life.”

The man speaks mildly with no intentions for provocative nor warm, as if water flows on the relaxing forest rivers. Lite, breathing flows with the rivers around him, the man speak

“ If you don't wish to come, we can leave you be, you will be out in 12 years, of course, there is a caviare. You will be working with us, a new opportunity, so how will you choose?”

Lite feels uneasy, his throats now less tense than before, his palm sweats with his replies for help.

“ Yes.”

The man stood up, with his face now with tilted smiles, as now, calm and numbness all over, the feeling of rivers devoid of thoughts, sleepiness is attracted by the situation. Oh, his arm is already at my neck.

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