I find that drawing soothes my nerves. Painting takes time and I have to get it set up, but drawing is easy with just paper and pen, I can let my mind go and doodle. Sometimes I’m working on a picture. Sometimes drawing comics. Sometimes I just doodle. Right now, I’m currently making a really fucked up piece of art while I cry my eyes out for the umpteenth time. Oh boy, am I emotional. I don’t think I’ve ever been this emotional in my life. I’d cried sure, but never for this long. I don’t even know what I’m drawing to be honest, all the tears are staining the paper. I guess it doesn’t matter.

Over and over does the memory of early today play in my head. I shivered and shook as more tears roll down my face with soft sobs escaping my mouth. Nothing I do can take my mind off of what happened. No matter how many times I use my new powers. No matter how many times I draw a stupid tree or a knife. No matter what, the image is so deeply imprinted in both mind and body that I’m reliving it again and again.

At least Papa isn’t here to watch me in pure agony. I don’t know where he went. The van isn’t here so he’s away from the mountain. He said we’re doing training today but he hasn’t come back yet. Oh, what does it matter? I don’t want to train; I don’t even know why we even do that stupid stuff. Papa says that it’s to help me survive in the real world. Survive what? A job interviews? A broken heart? What am I surviving? How often will I must point at gun at someone? Okay, let’s not answer that question. My point is, won’t happen as often as I think it will, or Papa thinks it will.

Though if I never trained then I probably wouldn’t survived today. Had I not received any gun training, or practiced those concentration techniques I wouldn’t probably get uh I don’t want to think about that word. It was a fluke! it won’t happen ever again. Of course, if it does at least Judge Colt and his jury of six will definitely be fanning all those fuckers with justice.

What am I thinking?! Any reasonable person will run away at even a chance something like that will happen, or get roofied and there will be nothing that reasonable person can do about it.

The pounding and aching of my head were too much for me and I decided to take some Tylenol and nap it off. And as I got comfy in bed, I found my eyes heavy and my body heading to the dream realm.

***

If you ever heard a cowbell, they’re such an irritating sound that you’ll want to rip of your ears and sell them to an organ donor. Fun fact: Papa loves cowbells. He especially loves to use cowbells to wake me up in the middle of a nice dream.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty!” He announced in English like one of those announcers I see on TV.

“Papa, I don’t think I can do today.” I whispered as I held back the tears trying to trickle. I hid into my sheets trying to ignore his cowbell.

“I can’t hear you!” Making a point to ring the cowbell louder.

A surge of anger pierced through as I sat up with the tears pushing their way out onto my face, “I can’t do today! I can’t, I can’t!!” A sob escaped my lips.

Papa’s eyes were confused at first then goggled, “Isaac? That you?”

“Of course, it’s me… Who else could it be?”

Papa’s face slouched into depression. His shoulders slouched and it seemed like what ever energy he had drained from him, “You should look in a mirror.” Papa’s voice soft as a breeze.

I got out of bed, “Why?”

“You’ll understand when you see.” Papa shuffled his feet out of my room.

I strolled to the nearest mirror. I was expecting one of the guys today did something to my face. Actually, I didn’t see my face at all. I stared at a doll like face with a wavy auburn bedhead. The inflammation on my chest was a lot bigger than before too… Those are tits aren’t that? I pushed a hand into my crotch. It was still there, thank god. It felt smaller than I remembered. I felt smaller than I remembered. Not like I had any height to begin with. My feet found themselves walking into the living room, “Papa, why do I look like a girl? Why do I have tits? Also does my new appearance have anything to?”

“Isaac, we need to talk.”

“Agreed! Like today I almost got raped by a bunch of boys. Killed them all though.” I felt so removed when saying that, “I did leave one alive, but not without leaving him a shadow of his former self.”

Papa blinked, “You okay?”

The dam broke and the flood began as I pushed myself into Papa’s arm, “Нет, I’m not, please hold me.”

It was several moments of peaceful serenity and sobbing until Papa opened his insensitive mouth, “You haven’t cried this much since you were a kid.”

I pushed myself away and glared at him, taking a hanky, and wiping the tears from my eyes. “Well, I’m SORRY that I can’t be happy with almost being raped.”

He winced, “What happened? Didn’t you try to run away?”

“I did but the pole I was grabbed broke and I hit my head hard.”

Papa winced again, “Sometimes no matter how much training you have, luck will always beat you.”

“I’m lucky I figured out my power in time.” Pulling a peacemaker from the abyss.
His eyes widened, “And you let one of the guys survive?”

“Yeah? Killing him would be a waste, he needs to know what it’s truly like to suffer.” Papa nearly sprinted into his room, “What are you doing?”

“Packing, just like you should right now.”

“What why?”

“I’ll explain, pack quickly.”

“Okay.” I went into my room, shoving anything in both of the duffle bags I carried.

When I came out, Papa handed me a black card, “Here, if we separate, use it for only the essentials.” He looked at my chest, “And new clothes.” Causing me to blush. I heard the rough roar of a car… no cars. No sure how many, but enough. Papa grabbed two pistols, “I want you to go hide in the forest. If anything happens, live happily and remember your training.” Giving me a journal of sorts, “Read this when you have a chance. If anyone asks you your name, it is Anya Janice Garin, okay?”

I nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“I know I’m not the best at showing affection but I want you to know that I love you. No matter what you read in that journal, I love you.”

“Papa, it’s not like you’re gonna die.”

His eyes were cold and his face solid steel. He was preparing for something, “Trust no Russian, only Red Steel. His address is in the journal.” He hugged me tight. I could feel the tears seeping out of their ducts. “If I don’t come back, take the four-wheeler and make your way towards the address. You have the skills; I know you will survive. Stay frosty and remember your training.” I nodded in his coat, wiping the tears in the process.

“Я люблю тебя, папа.”

“Я люблю тебя, дорогой.”

I ripped myself away from Papa and grabbed the Mosin-Nagant along with some ammo. I think I get the idea of how my powers works and it’ll be easy for me to understand the mosin. I took one look at papa before I head out the door and moved the four-wheeler a little bit away, hiding it behind one of the big rocks. There’s a trail here that we use sometimes.

I sneaked my away and watched through the mosin’s scope. There were at least a dozen men armed to the teeth along with what looks to be a head honcho. A general by the look of his rank. Papa came out in Military Dress Uniform. Looking as spiffy as could be. It’s fortunate that I know how to lip read or else I couldn’t be able to read their conversation.

“General Ivanov!” Papa saluted. Did… Did I just read that right? That’s the same Ivanov that harassed me at the gun store? Now that I’m looking at him, he looks exactly like Ivanov except not so disheveled.

The general saluted back half-heartedly, “Where’s the subject?” Subject?

“He’s in his room, napping, sir.”

The general’s eye twitched, “Then wake it up!” I felt my eye twitch a little. I’m not an ‘it’. I’m a she… now. That’s a weird feeling to feel in this moment.

“Yes, sir!” Papa went back into the house. It was a bit before I saw little balls being thrown out near the general.

The general looked down as his eyes widened in shock, “Граната!” Before there was a mass of explosions knocking most but not all down.

“Holy shits, Papa.” I cursed in English as the cracks of gunfire hit several of the men. Ivanov was definitely dead. Most of his body’s limbs were severed save for an arm while shrapnel was liter through his body. No way a baseline could survive that.

Anytime someone got up, he was hit in the head by a bullet. Papa’s accuracy was on fire and no one but during his reload could move.

A guy stood somehow; I didn’t notice him before but he appeared to be like Snake Eyes from GI Joe except in multi-camo black. I was tempted to hit him with a 7.62 Russian, but I didn’t want to give away my position. It was weird, I blinked and he vanished. The gun fire came to a halt and the as this snake eyes person walked out, I noticed he had a human head in his other hand. My heart and stomach constricted as sight blurred with tears. It was papa’s head.

My finger twitched on the trigger of that Snake eyes mother fucker. I wanted to do it. I wanted to kill him. However, I noticed that more than half the soldiers were still alive though many looked banged up. And there was Snake Eyes mother fucker, we’ll abbreviate it to SEMF, I didn’t know his powers. From what it looks he has some kind of fast-moving powers. If my memory serves me correct, that means not only would he’d be faster than me but could also murder me in a heartbeat. Then again, his power could be teleportation. Which would be even worse because he could teleport around me while I helplessly defend. Not to mention that he may have bullet proof armor which means most of the things I have to kill him would be useless unless I get a good shot.

Rule one of combat is Knowledge, Knowledge, Knowledge. Knowledge about the enemy; knowledge about the location in which you are engaging the enemy; knowledge about yourself and your comrades. I have neither the knowledge about the enemy, I do have knowledge about the location to fight him, but I have not enough equipment to take him down. My chances of killing him are too low at this time. Not to mention I’m bound to fuck up considering what kind of day this has been. No, it’s better to retreat and strategize.

I sighed as I crawled away back to the four-wheeler. Turning the ignition, I took one look back as the tears flowed, “пока береги себя, дорогой, папа.” I traveled down the mountain.

Hello there! Hoped you enjoyed this chapter of From Russia with Love!! Please have a happy happy day!!!