It was dark when I woke up. Only five in the morning and I felt wide wake. Waking up later even if only an hour was bliss. Papa was already chopping firewood as the cold and snow was coming fast. Even faster in the mountains.

My chest felt itchy and as I began to help him cut fire wood, my chest felt continually itchy and sore. I’m not as skilled as he is but I can still hold my own. Of course, I could’ve gone faster if my chest didn’t feel so itchy. Placing the wood on the stump and slamming the axe into it. It wasn’t long until the sun began peeking out from the horizon.

After placing the firewood in storage, we began breakfast. Bacon, eggs, and oddly enough pancakes today. We ate while I desperately itched and rubbed my chest. I tried to hide it, but there was nothing that could be hidden from Papa as he asked, “What’s wrong with your chest?”

“I don’t know, it’s all itchy and sore.” I replied.

“Well, don’t scratch it anymore or else you’ll make it worse.” He jotted down something on a piece of paper, “Here, while you’re in town get yourself some itching cream along with the other stuff on the list.” He gave me the list and money.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, I want you to come back before noon, okay?”

“Is it for my new training you’ve been talking about?”

“Yes.”

“Will you ever tell me what the training is about?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Ugh.” I got up, grabbed my backpack, and stretched. “You’re always so aloof with training. Can’t you just tell me what I’m doing one of these days?”

Papa smiled, “I gotta keep you on your toes somehow, Isaac.”

I shook my head, “Well I’m off. I’ll see you soon. Love you. Пока!”

“Пока.” He waved goodbye.

I jogged down the hill and towards town. It’s turning out to be a beautiful day. The azure sky was free and clear of clouds. The sun heated the humid air so there’s no cold. If only my chest didn’t keep bouncing every step I took. With each bounce came pain and every so often I had to stop and rub my chest. At one point, I just jogged holding my chest.

When I got to town, I went into the Library’s bathroom to look at my chest. It was inflamed and looked like boobs. I may need anti-inflammation cream too. I really hope Papa gave me enough money this time. He always adds extra but sometimes when he’s having a bad day, he forgets. I worry about Papa sometimes.

The first thing I do when I get to town isn’t shopping. No, I go to the arcade where the fun is really at. It’s a secret from Papa even though I’m sure he knows. It’s probably why he gives me coins each time I head to town.

I don’t really have much fun besides the occasional airsoft game Papa and me go to. Most of the time I’m reading books or training. Ugh, just remembering the training I’ve been through sends me shivers.

Anyway, the arcade, I played Grand Nitro, a racing game. The game felt really easy to play compared to actual driving. I raced around, dodging cars and civilians. I placed first in the end. Next, went to the new zombie killing game they had.

“Hey, can I play with you?” A masculine voice came behind me. It was a boy, my age.

“Uh sure.” I nearly whispered as he and I put in our coins. It was fun, a little odd to have someone
playing with me since I try to stay away from people, but it was fun. We somehow got through to the final boss before our luck ran out and we died. “That was fun!” I exclaimed with a grin.

The boy grinned smugly back, “You’re pretty good… FOR A GIRL!” He chuckled as if he’s the funniest person in the universe.

I felt myself go small as my face flushed with embarrassment and whispered, “I’m not a girl though.”

His eyes went wide as he made a noise of annoyance and mumbled, “Wasted money.” He stomped away angrily. Uuuuuh, why did he think I’m a girl? I don’t look like a girl, not even a little bit. I have short hair and look like my dad who is gruff and manly. Maybe it was a fluke? I mean, I did have a little bit of a chest on me now since it’s inflamed. Probably didn’t help that I’m small for kids my age. A fluke, it was a fluke.

I decided that I’m done with the arcade for today and went shopping. Papa’s list was very long, and required going to many different stores. First, I got anti-inflammation cream and went into the nearest bathroom. You have no clue how relieved I felt rubbing it on, or how inflamed my chest was. I swore they’re getting bigger by the second. It almost looks like I have boobs. Maybe it’s a good idea to go to a doctor, I’ll ask Papa about it when I get home.

Next, was the ammunition. I always do this first because it takes the longest. Mr. Ivanov always gives me a hard time about buying ammunition from his story even though I always have a signed note from Papa saying that I can buy ammo on his behalf. After a bit of yelling, scolding, and some small sobs, I bought the ammunition.

Next is the foodstuffs. Even though we normally hunt and farm our own food, it’s always good to grab some cans, spices, and other miscellaneous foodstuffs just in case.

I needed a new coat since my last one got mauled by an angry grizzly. I still have the scar across my back. It’s lucky I had a thick coat then. It was a lot of browsing before I eventually found a coat thick and waterproof. Good to have a waterproof coat since it snows more than I wish it did.

Finally, the last items were electronics. Batteries, parts for the generator, the usual stuff, along with gas. We always have to use the generator each year since the power always gets cut off someway somehow. One time, a bear itched it’s back on one of the electric poles, pushing it down. Poor bear got electrocuted.

It was getting close to noon by the time I got the shopping down so I took the short cut through the alleys of town. There’s usually no one but the homeless around here.

“Usually.” I mumbled to myself as I saw four boys smoking cigarettes and drinking, I think, vodka. Some kind of hard liquor. I noticed that one of the boys was the one I met at the arcade.
He also happened to be the one who noticed me, “Hey! It’s that sissy boy I was talking about.”
I waved as I back away, “Nice to see you again, друг. But I really need to get going.” I sheepishly laughed as a nervous tension pulled at my stomach.

“No way to treat a friend. Come here and play with us.” He replied taking big steps closer to me along with his friends.

“Спасибо, thank you, friend, but my papa would kill me if I don’t get home by noon.”

They dashed at me. Oh, they were quick but I was quicker as I sprint, using the narrow alleyway pushed myself to a metal pole that connected two of the building. I grabbed the pole and I would like to say that I climbed onto the building and escaped. Instead the pole came lose as I smacked my head onto the wall as my vision went dark.

When my vision came to, I was being held down on the cold ground. I struggled but to no effect. “So, I see the freak woke up.” A masculine voice laughed. I felt so cold. It took so much strength to lifted my head to see that I had no pants or underwear. While two guys held my legs spread. Is this actually happening? The boy also had his pants off with his raging boner. Oh, this is actually happening. I struggled and choked from frustration.

“It’s crying, Ras.” The dude pining my arms down guffawed along with the lackeys on my legs.

“Great, I’m gonna make this lil’bitch cry even more. I hope it squeals like a pig.”

It took all my breath to say, “Shits.” As I felt something go into my butt, it was thick and disgusting. I nearly screamed but I knew I needed to keep calm. I raised my head again and he had his finger in me. I still had time. Papa told me that the best way to stay compose and regain concentration was focusing on something.

So, I focused on my favorite gun, the Colt 45 Peacemaker. The image was fuzzy and my brain felt like it was pounding against the walls of my skull, but I visualized every inch of the gun, the hammer, the trigger, how to reload, everything. I even visualized what it felt in my hand and the pull of the trigger. Only there was a boom as my ears squealed. I pulled my hand to me; the revolver was in it neatly and a finger squeezed on the trigger. There was a look of shock and awe among the three other boys.

Do you know why the Colt 45 is called the Peacemaker? Nobody seems to know but there’s a phrase they used ‘Judge Colt and his jury of six’. I think it’s this saying that people started calling it the Peacemaker. A mad grin reached my lips and curled to my ears as I fanned two of the five remaining juries into the boys that pinned my legs.

Their fearless leader began running away with his pants around his legs. I took a nice, long, aimed shot right in the back of his knee. He squealed in agony as he fell. I took my time putting on my pants as the little shit crawled away slowly.

I let him have a bit of hope before I took my foot to his injury leg, stomping on it. He screeched as a liquid formed a puddle around his crotch. I kicked him over, “It was just a joke, don’t kill me, it was just a joke.”

My mad grin became stone cold, “So it’s just a joke that you tried to rape me?”

“Yeah, you know, guys do that sometimes.” He chuckled like a terrified hyena.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t kill you.” There was look of relief on his face, “I’ll just make sure you’ll never be a real man again.” As I stomped on his manhood over and over as he passed out and woke up from the pain. To make doubly sure that he’ll never be a real man again, I used one of the juries to blow a testicle off. After appreciating my work, I put the remaining bullets in anyone left breathing besides the leader. I used one of their phones to call the cops and left sprinting.

***

I don’t know how far or how long I sprinted but it was long enough that by the time I got to my house, I was both tired, hungry, and dizzy. My head pounded, I wanted to scream, and wash myself with bleach.

Papa didn’t seem to be home. Which was good, I don’t even know how to begin to explain to him what happened. I sat down and cried clutching the peacemaker in my hand like some kind of stuffy. I rocked myself back and forth allowing whatever adrenaline, fear, or disgust to flow out of me. I made sure to have a bucket ready and I’m glad I did because I nearly vomited my guts out.
It was a while before I was just staring out into space. My mind blank and my body exhausted. I’d eat something but I’m too scared I’d end up puking it.

Instead, I took a shower. A long, scolding hot showers. Searing and washing away any dirtiness that was left on my skinned. I washed head to toe with a fervor to purge todays events not just from my body but from my mind. Whatever discomforts I had were ignored. I kept scrubbing away until I felt satisfied all of it was gone. I wept more after that.

Eating something made me feel better. I tried to find the peacemaker that saved me but to no avail. It seemed to have disappeared. It’s weird how I just found it in my head.

I thought back to that moment when I found that revolver in my clutches. I was trying to calm myself down and think of a way out. Thinking about how a peacemaker works helped that. Only the revolver was just ‘there’ neatly in my hand with my finger on the trigger. I went through the steps before. Visualized every part of the peacemaker. How the revolver operated. I found the revolver in my hand again. I checked to see if it’s loaded, it was. I went outside and fanned six shots into a tree.

Now all I had was an empty revolver. I felt both stupid and mesmerized at what I could do. I dropped the revolver for some reason and find it to disappear. I visualized the peacemaker again and it appeared in my hand. I shot six bullets again into the tree, dropped the gun making it disappear. A thought occurred to me so I summoned one peacemaker into one hand and the other into another. A small smile of glee curled my lips. I have super powers.

~o~O~o~

Hello There! Hoped you all enjoyed the first chapter of From Russia with Love, a whateley fanfic. Adrenaline Jackey has been put on hiatus for a while due to lack of imagination of what to do next. I have a lot of ideas for the series but this story got stuck in my head. So I'm gonna write this one until I'm satisfied or until it ends.

Hope you all have a happy happy day!!!

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.

~o~O~o~

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

With red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, I found myself on the long road to the nearest city. I needed to change out the quad with a car and quickly. You don’t hear people using a four-wheeler as a main way of transportation, not to mention that the wheels are meant for on-road, and well it gets cold swiftly on a four-wheeler. Or it’s supposed to, oddly enough I’m not cold at all. Must be part of my mutation… or Russian blood… or training. One of the three. Maybe all of it, but I digress.

I make sure to pull through several shortcuts while going down the mountain. Since I’m on an off-road vehicle, might as well take some off-road options other vehicles just can’t do. By the time I got halfway to the city, it was late and I didn’t want to risk being targeted at night. It’s safer to go out in daylight where the city is lively. Yes, they can still target me but the best they can do spy.

Fortunately for me, I don’t think they know my face yet. I hope they don’t know my face yet. That’ll be a huge advantage for me since I’ll be using a new name and hopefully will get new clothes soon.

My thoughts went to my new, Anya Janice Garin. “Anya,” I said to the fire that crackled in reply. It felt weird saying it, but I needed to make sure that I had no slip-ups. Plus, it’d be awkward to introduce myself as Isaac Kovlov with this very beautiful body of mine. “Anya Janice Garin,” I said again to the fire. I stood up and stage whispered, “I am Anya Janice Garin!” Nothing but the crickets replied back. At least there was no one to hear me embarrass myself.

My eyes went to the Mosin Nagant I took. It was well taken care of and a lot was refurbished along with the insides. Papa told me that tools are always valuable no matter how small and therefore should always be maintained and cleaned. It was probably his own way of telling me why I should clean the damn Mosin for the forty millionth time. I won’t be able to take it apart until I get some tools to unscrew it.

My eyes reached the journal Papa left me. The last words he said to me that he loved me no matter what the journal says. That makes me nervous about what the contents of the journal are. I took a deep breath and opened the journal.

Year 1 of Project Spartan:

The subject had been born 3 kilograms, a healthy. He cried a lot and loudly, I hope this isn’t every day. Mother was in serious pain but is recovering from the traumatic birth.

It’s weird to think that this small alien thing is my child. A child I never wanted and won’t want, but for the love of mother Russia, I’ll do anything and everything. Including giving my firstborn to her.

The subject eats properly from his mother’s breasts. The mother seems slightly depressed but holding up well. I have yet to tell her about the project nor do I think I ever will.

The subject is developing quickly, I can’t tell if it’s because his mother is an exemplar or that’s simple genetics. Either way, things are going quickly. The subject is walking around at 9 months which is impressive.

The subject started communicating with us at 10 months with the simple signs we taught him. I know this is early but the subject is looking to be very smart and strong, that’s if we continue to nurture his talents.

When Ivanov told me, he wanted me on the Spartan Project, I didn’t know what to think. The fact he wanted me to raise the grandchild of Red Steel and my own kid. I don’t really care; I’ve seen enough death to know that life doesn’t matter.

Wow, I uh, I don’t know how to feel about this. Spartan Project? Subject? Mother? Papa said she died before I was born. I’m the grandchild of Red Steel? Shits, this is too much for me. I’m going to bed before this starts getting heavy.

I was back on the road again with my four-wheeler. The usually hot air was cool as it whipped past me. I’m pretty sure I should be freezing considering I’m only wearing a t-shirt. Riding this four-wheeler has gotten me nervous about the wheels. Too much grip can cause accidents if you’re not careful enough. Despite needing to get there faster, I needed to be safe first. I’m not sure if I have any powers that’ll protect me but I don’t want to find out.

My thoughts went back to the journal. I only read one entry of it, a quick entry, but it said a lot I can’t even begin to understand. What is Project Spartan? I’m going to guess it’s like those military movies where they tried to create super soldiers. I happen to be one of the ‘subjects’. If that’s the case then are their other subjects? I shook my head. I won’t get anywhere by thinking about that. I need to focus on what I can understand rather than what I can’t.

Like the fact that my grandpa is Red Steel or that my mother is alive. Or at least not had died before I was born. I’ll have to read more when I get the time. Not sure when I’ll get the time, but I hope it’s soon. I really want to know what happens next.

All sudden my body tingled with a sensation that screamed that I’m in danger. In front of me was a crotch. A black crotch. I nearly wasn’t quick enough to dodge it. I had to lay back on the seat like something out of the Matrix. The black, multi-camo butt passed as I got up and look at the rearview. Holy shit, it was SEMF! He was fucking on a black bike coming at me at higher speeds than my little quad could move.

I didn’t even think about it as I hit full speed on the quad, pulling out a peacemaker and firing at whatever shots I could manage at the guy to deter him. I needed to think of a plan fast. I know now that he’s a teleporter. Which is fucking bullshit, but whatever.

In civilian vehicular combat, it works similar to how air combat works. You get behind the mother fucker and take him out. Considering that he hasn’t opened fire on me, I’m guessing he either doesn’t use guns or he’s trying to capture me. I’m betting on the latter which gives him a disadvantage.

I slowed down, firing jury after jury of Judge Colt’s jury of six. Mostly out of deterrent though, a few shots hit the bike, leaving it undamaged which told me that I’m right, the bike is bulletproof. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. This is going to be a whole lot harder than I thought.

I breathed deeply as I spun the quad around, hitting the bike and flipping my four-wheeler at the same time. Everything was in slow motion as I maneuvered myself and jumped off the quad, taking an excellent potshot at the Snake Eyes Mother Fucker’s head, and rolling on the ground to shrug off the momentum.

I pushed myself off the asphalt, dusting myself off. I patted my body to check for injuries. Besides bruises and scrapes, nothing too bad. Meanwhile, SEMF was gone. Probably teleported away. This tells me that his powers work with his memorization and that he can’t just go anywhere he wanted in a blink of an eye. He had to see the spot and memorize it. Which means he can go anywhere as long as he’s been there once and memorized it. At least that’s how I hoped it worked.

I took a look at the quad, yup, that thing is never gonna work again. I took a breather as the adrenaline dump hit me. Turns out I’m a crier as I ugly wept my little eyes until they were red, puffy, and raw. If I’m not careful, I’m going to dehydrate myself.

I checked my things, making sure nothing was damaged. Then the bike to make sure that wasn’t damaged. It is incredible that it barely had scratches, this thing must be armored to the max with some kind of light composite. Only probably is that it probably had a tracking signal. Not much I can do about that and I desperately needed transportation. Finally, I hopped the bike and rode off with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

~o~O~o~

Hello There! Hope you all are enjoying the story so far!! I'd like to announce that this story will be no longer part of Gen 2 fanfiction. Now it'll be in Gen 1.5. A fanfictional class a few What-if writers decided to come together to create. It's starting in the 2011/2012 school year and this character will be a part of it. if you wish to join our Halfway House, this is the link to the discord: https://discord.gg/4vYyj3

Anyone can join, we do have a few rules but generally to keep things organized. So come up with a cool idea, write about it, and they can be part of Whateley Generation 1.5!!!

And as always, I hope you all have a happy happy day!!!

The drive into the city was peaceful. Papa never told me what the city was called, nor did I care about the name. It’s just the place when we needed something that we couldn’t find in town.

The raining ash of grey fell from the coal mines that kept this town running. The ash was everywhere and everyone was covered in it. Papa once talked about how he wishes he could do something about it but considering he was taking care of his subject; he had no time to take care of some small city close to the mountains. I remember coming here as a kid feeling very depressed. This whole place depressed me. It’s just so grey without even a speck of color in it.

Despite the heat, I pulled up a jacket. I don’t want to look like an ashen mess. Fortunately, this place is a place no one wants to visit so I may be safe for now.

I retrieved a wad of cash from the ATM by the bank. Some people were giving me those looks you see in starving animals. I made sure to put the money in a very safe place.

I bought a gas mask and an oval hooded jacket at the local military surplus. For one, I didn’t want to breathe in the ash, and for two to hide my pretty face. The last thing I needed was some shitface getting an idea that I’m easy like that last shitface. I didn’t want to conjure attention more than I needed. Not to mention the government trying to capture me. That’s the last thing on my mind at the moment.

I paid for a motel room and making sure the doors are extra amount of locked. I jumped onto my new bed and drifted off to sleep. Good sleep was hard to come by and while I’m used to sleeping on the ground, a nice cozy, bed beat it all.

When I awoke, it was quiet. I wasn’t used to quiet. I was used to hearing the birds chirped and papa cutting wood as he does. I was also used to the cowbell he used to wake me up at ungodly hours of the morning. I would never hear such a bell ever again. It’s ironic really. I spent most of my time despising the cowbell but now I really miss it.

I shook my head, I needed to think of a plan and soon. I’m not sure how long it’ll be until I find myself at odds with Snake Eyes Mother Fucker, or someone a lot deadlier.

First, I needed clothes and some food. I haven’t eaten in a bit and my boobs are very sore. I’ve been ignoring the sensitive pain but I desperately need a bra, and food, I’m beginning to feel the shakes.

I got some fast food from McDonald's, not the healthiest stuff but it’ll do good for the moment. While I’m chowing down on that I made my way to the clothes store.

It was a drab place, but then again everything is drab here. The only thing with any color is the woman’s section. Which I’m walking towards for some reason. What can I say? This stuff is pretty cute. I needed the essentials so I grabbed sports bras, some really cute skirts, panties, and a few cute blouses. SEE, I’m grabbing the essentials and they look adorable on me.
I wonder what would’ve happened had I been born a girl? Would I just be your usual teenage girl talking about boys, or would they train me to be a soldier like I am now? I don’t really care, too many of these clothes are cute and I love them. I’m getting used to this girl thing quickly. I wonder why that is? It doesn’t matter.

I went up to the cashier to make my purchase. Of course, they tried the usual spiel of getting me to sign up for their cash rewards card. I’ll never fall for their scam! The cashier did give me an add envelope telling me that some guy wants me to have this. I asked more but she didn’t know who besides that he was tall and had a scar on his cheek.

I changed in one of the changing rooms. I can’t tell you how good it felt to wear a bra. I’ve spent more than enough time feeling the uncomfortable sensation of my brand-new mounds of flesh bouncy bounce. Now they only bounce a little and they’re not as sore anymore. Such a good feeling. The feeling of the skirts was great too! I spun around and the cute doll of a girl in the mirror giggled, having the time of her life. I’m having the time of my life. Most of my stuff I got was boring or battle-ready. Now I can be cute, fashionable, and practical. I bought some spanks to keep from showing my panties. Also, I don’t like the feeling of scrape knees haha. I put the rest in my bag.

I tore open the letter and it said, ‘Come back to the McDonalds you once were. We need to talk about the future.’ Is this a trap? Probably, maybe, I was getting hungry anyway so I guess I’ll go. Not like they’ll attack me in a public place. I don’t think they want to make themselves incompetent to the public eye.

When I reached the McDonalds, there was an old man with a scar going from his ear to cheek. Very much had an “I’m a bad guy” look going on. I shrugged, ordered two more burgers, and sat down in front of him. He was reading a tablet, and I was eating my burgers. An intense silence hung between us for a moment. We never took our eyes off each other. He was sizing me up, and I was thinking of ways to kill him without being panic.

He sighed in German, “The way you look at me is like a wolf eyeing a rabbit.”

I spoke back in German, “Wolves hunt in packs. I don’t need a pack to kill you and your friend casually pointing a gun at me.” I’m going to guess that this was a test cause no one smart would possibly point a gun in public and so blatantly.

Scar man laughed making some kind of hand gesture as the man put away his pistol, “You’re quite an observant one, fräulein.”

I sat back and crossed my legs, “My father taught me so.” Taking a sip of my drink, “What do you want?”

“Down to business, I see. Well, I come from a certain organization that wants to help you.” He slid over a business card and it read nothing but twin lightning bolts standing for SS.

I smiled, “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch, kleines fräulein. We can have you heading to Argentina in a few hours.”

I smiled deeply, “I’d love that. I’ve been fighting for days and I’m so tired of it. I nearly got my head chopped off by some ninja dude.” I laughed nervously.

The Scar man was relieved by my words, “I’m sorry, I’ve been quite rude. My name is Adolf Hilde.” Holding out his hand.

I shook it, “Anya Garin.”

“Well, Miss Garin. Come at this location,” Writing down an address on the card he gave me, “and you’ll be on a flight from Germany by tomorrow.”

I shook his hand again, “Thank you, Mr. Hilde. I’m excited to finally get out of this hell hole.”

He laughed and waved goodbye as he stepped out and so did his comrade. I sat there with the biggest, wildest, maddest grin I’ve ever held in my life. It was so big that my face muscles were hurting. Today is a good day.

I made a stop to grab a screwdriver for the Mosin. I felt like I was on cloud nine. I skipped the whole way home with glee. Oh, today is a good day.

I dismantled the mosin making sure I fully understood what I was looking at. Bolt actions are simple in design, designed that way, but they still are complicated compared to a lot of guns. I closed my eyes and visualized all the parts, the bullets, the operation, and the bolt. I found a Mosin Nagant nearly identical to the other one. Another huge smile spread across my face.

The meeting place wasn’t far from my motel. I made sure to keep hooded and masked. I didn’t want anyone to notice me as I slipped through the alleys and parkoured through the buildings. It wasn’t long before I was at the rendezvous point.

“Mr. Hilde? It’s me, Anya Garin. Are you there?” I called out to the darkness. A figure came up and gestured to me. I followed him into a facility, an old warehouse. There were more people. Mostly men with one small woman all playing cards. Seems like a simple game of blackjack.

The figure was a tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes, “Boss, the girl is here.”

Adolf Hilde came out of an office, “Hello, Ms. Garin. I’m glad you’re here, we’ll be heading out soon.”

“Oh, before that can you introduce me to your compatriots.” Hilde made a noise in German and all the people lined up one by one and listed off their names. They all wore old German uniforms. You know the ones. “Is this it?” I asked.

“Yes, fräulein.” Hilde chirped.

I smiled wildly, “Good.” As I fanned Judge Colt’s juries, one for each fucking Nazi skull. I didn’t have enough and that gave Hilde enough time to pull out a Mauser, only had enough time to let it hit my right shoulder as I fanned all six shots into Adolf Hilde’s ugly Nazi face. Despite the splitting pain in my shoulder, I felt good, really good. I let out a maniacal laugh as I double tapped all the bodies. Can’t let fucking Nazis have even a teeny chance at life, “I hate Nazis.” I spat as I patched myself up with their medical supplies, took whatever was on them, and their vehicle which was a van. “Tonight is an excellent night for Nazi killing.”

First, it was learning that I’m part of some super soldier project and now Nazis are after me. NAZIS! My life is both bitter and wonderful right now. Papa would be really proud of me. I’m betting he’s looking down with that proud grin he would give me from time to time right now. I miss him a lot.

Crying seems to be the norm for me now. Everything that happens ends with me crying. Is it because I’m a girl? Is it because my whole life was basically turned upside down? I’m going to say both. At least I killed a group of Nazis. My shoulder ached and burned, I needed to stop several times to redress it, and I’ll have to perform surgery on myself soon which I’m very not happy about. Eh, the price to pay for killing Nazis.

When I woke up the next day, I decided against performing surgery on myself. I didn’t trust my hands, I’m too shaky from lack of food and fatigue. I don’t want to hurt myself by accident. Finding a doctor in a town I’ve never been to is difficult. I decided to get some food and stalk the local practice. I had asked around about doctors in the area, and they all told me that this Dr. Andreev was the best they had in town. I’ll have to trust their words. The practiced closed late and I’m guessing it doubles as a house for the doctor. When all the nurses left. I rang the doorbell.

“Whoever is it, we have closed for the night unless it’s an emergency, please wait until tomorrow.” The doctor on the other side answered.

“I’m sorry but this is an emergency.”

“This better not be a prank, girl.” As he opened the door, “Oh, I’ve never seen your face around.”
I gave a very painful smile, “Yes, well I come from out of town.”

“You’re quite young to be from out of town. Where are your parents?”

“Can you let me in, please? I’m in a lot of pain.”

“Of course, of course,” I walked in and tumbled on the couch, “What’s the problem?” I pulled back my new jacket and shirt to show my shoulder, “Holy fuck, are you okay?” He nearly ran to me as he observed my wound, “How did you get shot?”

“If I tell you that it was Nazis, would you believe me?”

He shook his head, “Either way, you need to go to a hospital not some general practice.”
My laugh was dry and hurt my shoulder, “I’ll pay you a whole lot of money if you don’t send me to a hospital. Along with fixing my arm, and keeping quiet.”

Dr. Andreev game me this look, “I don’t know about this.” He rubbed a hand through his hair,
“Fine, but only if you don’t do anything stupid afterward.”

“Can’t promise that, but I can at least try.” Giving him the best smile I could conjure.

The doc facepalmed, “Good enough, I guess. Come, lie on my table.”

The doctor was good if not better than what they said. He was really quick, proficient, and got the bullet out in no time. I’m going to guess he’s some kind of military doctor.

“Were you in Afghanistan?” I curiously asked.

“What an odd question.” He answered.

I flushed, “Sorry, just you were really good at pulling out that bullet.”

“Only because your body was healing it out by the time I started operating.”

“Healing it out?”

“Yes, it’s what happens when mutants who have regeneration get shot.” His eyes narrowed, “No more questions, I’ll give you food and you can sleep here. I expect you to leave by morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

He took one more look at me and left in a grumble. I get a distinct feeling he didn’t like me. I ate my food but I left before he could call the Department of Mutant Inhabitants. I’m definitely not ready to pick a fight with anyone. I drove my van into an abandoned garage and slept there for a night.

The morning came, I was procrastinating reading the journal. I took a deep breath and opened it up. Red Steel’s address was on the other end of the journal. The address was in Stalingrad. I looked it up on the GPS that was so handsomely put in the car. Holy shit was that far away. I wonder if I can steal a plane? No that’d only put more attention on me. It wasn’t too far just a few more days and I’ll be there. I just didn’t know if I had a few more days. I sighed, ignited the car’s engine, and drove off.

My shoulder felt so much better after that quick little surgery, I had checked on it and it was healing quick. I think the doc was right about having some kind of regeneration. I already know I’m an Exemplar considering my change into this beautiful body I’m loving. There was a hand mirror and I spent a lot of my time looking at how pretty I am. Is it weird that I really love being a girl? Everything so far has been so so much better than being a boy. I feel so what’s the word? Correct! I feel correct in this gorgeous body of mine. I look like someone out of some fantasy movie. I look like I’m half-elf, half-dwarf. Well except for the pointed ears. I have a six-pack, very thick thighs, and thick arms while appearing very nimble and lithe. It’s very unique and wonderful, I’m loving every second of it.

Not loving the bullet in my shoulder though, or the fact that I’m on the run from kind of government organization who wants to use me as their super-soldier. That’s not a lot of fun. Hopefully, Red Steel will help. He is my dedushka after all.

~o~O~o~

Hello there! Hope you enjoyed chapter 4 of Spetsnaz as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Killing Nazis in writing is a fun time.

The Whateley Generation 1.5 discord server for all who wants to join the fanon: https://discord.gg/VnnrSJb