DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Shirow Masamune , various publishers and companies including (but not limited) to Dark Horse Comics, Eclipse International, TOHO, and Geneon Entertainment Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
In the shade of a small, wind-gnarled tree in the overgrown lot of an abandon church, a lanky four-year old boy waited, silent. The air was thick around him as he trained his ears listening for his enemy, his small hands clutching his weapon. Finally he heard footsteps on the dusty earth. "Briareos!" a small voice called out, "Briareos, are you out here?" As the light footsteps grew closer he jumped out from behind the tree, blasting his very startled little sister, Demeter, with a stream from his water pistol. "Gotcha!" he shouted with a triumphant laugh. The little girl stood, dripping and still with shock, clutching an equally soaked stuffed rabbit. Her bottom lip began to quiver as the tears swelled in her eyes. "No," Briareos said pleadingly, "No, no, Dee, it's funny see, look." Turning the pistol on himself he sprayed himself in the face. Through tears, the little girl broke out in a peal of laughter. Wiping the water from his eyes, he smiled down at her.
He hadn't honestly meant to upset her; for as long as he could remember he had been her one protector and more of a guardian than their father was. He was the one who made sure she was fed and relatively clean. Looking down at her, he noticed her threadbare cotton dress was soaked and clung to her, the dust beginning to mingle with the water; he'd have to change her before their dad saw her or they would both be in trouble. "Come on, Dee" he said pushing gently back in the direction of their house. As they left the churchyard, he heard the rumbling of many truck motors coming towards them. Grabbing her by the shoulders he pulled her into a nearby bush. "Shhh!" he ordered the little girl, peering out of the branches to watch a line of heavily armed trucks roll by. "KGB," he whispered, repeating the name he'd heard his father call them. "We'd better hurry back home." His father may have had a neutral feeling towards the occupying army, but for some reason, they made Briareos nervous.
Running back home through the narrow cobblestone streets of Santorini, he heard a woman screaming. He couldn't make out all of what she was saying, only something about "...too young..." and "...not my baby..." then the rough growl of a Russian soldier and the hollow sound of a gunshot. "Faster," Briareos urged his sister, hurrying her into the stairwell that led up to their third story apartment.
Their father was passed out on the sofa in the main room of the house, a glass turned over near his limp hand. Quietly, the siblings skirted around the perimeter of the room to the single bedroom behind the kitchen area. Once inside, Briareos changed her out of her, now muddy, dress and cleaned her off, slipping a new dress over her head and buttoning her carefully. He was in the process of redoing her messy pigtails when a banging knock shattered the silence of the apartment.
"Who the hell is it?" his father's drunken voice slurred angrily.
"KGB!" came a thickly accented voice from behind the door. "Open up!"
Briareos rested his ear against the door, listening to the KGB soldier speak in broken Greek. "We come for children," he explained. "You have a son?" Briareos' heart stopped. Frantically he looked around the room. With no window and very little furniture there was nowhere to escape, nowhere to hide. Demeter ran and clung desperately to him, trembling with fear.
Without warning the door flew open and he looked up to see his father and two armed Russian soldiers staring down at he and his sister. The smell of rum and sweat was thick on his father as the older man reached down and grabbed his son by the shoulder. "Whatcha' plannin' ta do with him?" he asked heavily, shaking the boy a bit. Three-year-old Demeter had dissolved into tears on the floor clutching her beloved rabbit.
"Your son will be a proud soldier," the younger Russian said patting the boy fondly. If the whole experience had not been so terrifying, he may have found comfort in the fatherly tone of soldier. "He will be trained and schooled. A proud soldier trained by army."
"Get your stuff," his father ordered.
"What's going to happen to Demeter?" Briareos demanded, his fierce eyes not quite masking his anxiety for his sister's safety. There was no way he wanted to leave the little girl to the merciless whims of their father. He tensed to brace himself as the back of his father's hand slammed hard against the side of his face, but he was knocked to the floor anyway.
"Shut the fuck up and do as you're told!" his father barked.
Wiping the blood off his lip, Briareos looked up, anger brimming in his eyes, but he did what his father ordered. Sobbing, Demeter followed closely to him. "Don't go," she pleaded, "please, Bri, please, don't leave me, Bri, please Bri..."
"I have to," he said darkly, as he stuffed his few cloths into a knapsack from an old dresser. In the living room the Russians were arguing in their native tongue. The children's father stood, swaying, in the doorway with a look of loathing at his two children.
"The girl," said the young Russian, "we could use her in the children's corps as well."
"Well," their father said, looking questioningly between the children and the soldiers, "I don't see how you could possibly take both of my children without some compensation."
More arguments between the Russians, then the same one spoke again. "Double rations," he offered, pity in his eyes as he looked at the trembling little mulatto girl and her older brother.
"Get 'er stuff out of here, too," their father ordered Briareos, then turned and walked back into the living room to flop back lazily on the couch.
Grabbing her clothes hastily, he stuffed them in the bag along with his. Going to the bed, he fished under the mattress on the floor and found a tattered photograph and carefully tucked it in with the rest of their possessions. "That all," the Russian asked.
"That's it," Briareos replied, zipping up the top of the knapsack.
Their father didn't offer them any parting words as they left the apartment for the last time, only looking at them with an unreadable look that may have bordered on regret. It left an eerie feeling in Briareos' gut, knowing that his life was changing forever. Holding firmly onto Demeter's trembling shoulder, he had no idea what this new future would hold for the two of them; he only hoped that the change would be for the better.