Author's Note: This is going to be one of the first stories I've ever posted on this site, so I am completely open to taking criticism if it can help me write. I thought I'd start with a story I've been thinking about for a long time, but only recently started to conceptualize and put into words. I'm not an experienced writer so I'm keeping myself at a relatively low minimum of putting out chapters with at least 3,500 words of story related content, and seeing if I'd like to do more from there. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

2019

March 23 7:22:16 AM

St. Petersburg, Russia

Dear Mom,

I really hope everything is going well for all of you at home, I know things are fantastic for me here. Sitting down and taking the time to think about the opportunity I've been given; I can say I don't regret moving to Russia for work, and I mean if that doesn't work out I will always have job opportunities in the United States and back home in Canada. Pyotr has taught me a lot when it comes to the trade and we've become pretty good friends, despite a 17 year age difference and his MANY accumulated prejudices against westerners during his time in combat, although given some of the things he's told me - if they're true - I honestly don't blame him. Odds are I'll be able to make the time to come down around Easter, and spend about two weeks before I have to make it back. Thank you for reading this E-mail and taking the time to respond.

Your Son,

Vasily

I sent the email without too much afterthought of its contents, relaxing back into my desk chair and stretching. I sighed, staring at the influx of unopened spam emails from newsletters, gaming publishers, and whatever other content I dragged the account through over the years, all of it likely never to be opened. I dragged my mouse across the screen and told the computer to shut down, not expecting a response to come any time within the next couple of hours. It was the about the middle of the night for my mother, but for me, on the other side of the world, it was early in the morning. My boss, Pyotr, had called me into work earlier than normal that morning, and the tone on the other end of the phone told me he was in one of his moods, so screwing around any longer wasn't going to be in my best interest. I threw the keys into a small sling bag on my back after locking my front door and caught a bus that would take me conveniently near my place of work. I figured that a pair of jeans and a Navy Blue t-shirt would be presentable enough for the day.

I was left thinking about what I had left undone or messed up; things with Pyotr had to be a certain way, and he would sometimes lose his cool if things weren't left so, but if you fixed any problem you left he would give you a short lecture and cool down relatively quickly. I guess the army will do that to you, but I won't say anything like that to him, at least not at this point. As the bus pulled into the stop I needed to get off at I shuffled along the metal floor impatiently sandwiched in between a line of others that had the same destination, eventually hopping off the bus and taking the sidewalk to Pyotr's shop that was dead center this side of the block.

Pushing open the door I saw that the shop was a little more cleared out than usual, and I could hear Pyotr swearing under his breath in Russian along with the noises of metal, wood, and plastic rubbing against each other. I had been slightly washed over with a sense of relief, because I assumed the missing items were connected to the unpleasurable phone call I received, but that relief turned into a feeling of uneasiness, one that propelled my legs towards the small workshop in the back of the store where Pyotr was.

"Hey… did we get robbed?"

I was looked at by the hunched over six foot tall man with a fresh buzz cut. His confused expression would have been comforting if it also didn't look like I said something horrible about his mother.

"What? No." The native Russian responded with a heavy accent.

"... Did I leave something open or forget to clean up?"

"Nyet..." Pyotr responded in a way that made it clear I didn't have his full attention.

"... You seemed a little pissed over the phone, what's wrong?" I asked, with a mind too confused to come up with any more scenarios to run through.

"I tell you in little bit." He picks up a small duffle bag and places it not too gently on the workbench to his right.

"Now we take van and go into woods, store is closed for today."

It wasn't too unusual that Pyotr would take a few of our guns out and close up shop to go shooting in the woods for a day, but I've never seen him take rifles off the walls of the shop to go to the range, something has got to be wrong in order for him to be doing this. I didn't get the time to ask more about his motivations to go out today, not that I had the courage to push for more info after Pyotr said he would tell me later. He picked up a set of keys and tossed them to me. I fumbled with them a bit, feeling victorious that they hadn't touched the ground. Now at a set of metal cabinet-like doors, Pyotr turned his head to me.

"Go start van, I'll be there in minute."

I nodded quickly and went out into the main store area, walking past the counter and to a door on the side of the shop that led to an adjacent garage. I tried to open the door, but felt it wouldn't budge.

"Ah, fuck I'm stupid." I reached to the lock and turned the knob until I heard a distinctive click.

I walked inside of the garage, coughing a bit from the dust hanging around in the air, which felt a bit odd knowing who I worked for. I guided my thumb around the rubber buttons until it was over the unlock symbol, hearing the locks disengage in the vehicle as I pressed the button. The van needed a few attempts at the ignition, but the engine eventually turned over. I shut the door and reached out to a small console on the wall, opening the garage door to vent the exhaust.

?

March 23 11:45:37 PM

Thorn Kingdom, Eostia

Subservience had become a way of life for the head shrine maiden Kaguya, long abandoned was the adherence to a religion she and her followers no longer saw any use for, their new purpose was one of serving the hedonistic and carnal desires of male patrons at a bathhouse that has been repurposed as a pub and brothel, one where the sting of alcohol would violate the nostrils of all who entered the front doors during the night time events.

The cheers and jeers of the mercenaries could be heard hollering from behind the curtains of the stage as one of the many servants finished her routine on stage. Kaguya was next in line to go out, part of a line up for that night's entertainment. The once devout and proper girl walked out onto the stage as the cheers roared louder.

"Tonight you men are in for a treat!" The announcer on stage was well dressed in a black suit that didn't dare show a wrinkle, royal golds and purples that could easily steal the attention of a distracted eye, and slicked back blonde hair that complimented a perfect white smile. "Once the High Priestess of the Thorn Kingdom's temples, this lovely face has turned her efforts to a life of worshiping the deepest desires of men!" The crowd roared once more, falling silent as a smile came across the face of the former shrine maiden. The smile conveyed the same message as her amber eyes, one fueled by an unyielding lust that would not be faltered in satisfying its cravings.

Beginning her act, Kaguya dropped to her knees adjusting the golden headdress and slowly drawing her hand up a portion of her exposed thigh and grabbing onto the pure white strands of cloth that hung from her lower from her robes, robes that once symbolized purity and devotion now were nothing more than a costume that fulfilled the fantasies of onlookers. The robes started to slip off, Kaguya's hand gracefully grabbing the edges of her clothing and pushing it off of herself, her lower half exposed to the crowd and only covered by thigh high socks with the slightest hint of pink, and a white cotton thong, characters over her womanhood like the seal that once tried to preserve her purity. With her right shoulder turned towards the onlookers, Kaguya turned her head to face the wanting gazes locked on to her. Slowly shimmying the top of the robes down past her shoulders, her upper chest, and finally her stomach, but the teasing wasn't finished, as she skillfully kept her breasts covered either with the fabric or her left arm, which was now draped horizontally across the center of her boobs. Rising from her position, Kaguya lifted herself elegantly with and approached the edge of the stage jumping down to the floor and approaching a nearby man in a chair. Her lustful smile widened as her hips swayed with intentional movement to them, one foot in front of the other, until her right hand met with the top of his left shoulder, her upper body slowly closed the gap between the two as her left hand began to inch it's way to the top of the man's right shoulder, her upper half now pushing away, giving him and those around him a good view of her large pillowy mounds, to which the viewers gave no shortage of "Oouu"s and "Ahh"s. Kaguya's arms begin to slip past his shoulders and wrap around the back of his head as her lips near his right ear.

"Be good for me now, kay?" The shrine maiden's voice leaving a sweet and lasting impression on the mind, her request being met with an excited affirmative nodding.

Kaguya begins to pull herself back, walking back to the stage in the same way she left it, effortlessly hopping up and walking back behind the curtain, paying no mind to the clothes that were discarded to the stage.

"What a wonderful performance! Nothing less is to be expected from the High Priestess." The announcers words were met with one final round of applause from the audience.

2019

March 23 9:57:07 AM

Wooded area outside of St. Petersburg, Russia

I watched Pyotr stand up a plastic folding table, kicking out the metal legs and placing the loose metal fasteners in place once the table was upright. I looked around a little and found what looked to be a warehouse and oddly placed paintball field next to one another, the two completely out of place. I didn't have too much time to sightsee before Pyotr began to place weapons on the table in front of me, pointing on my far right, and going down to my far left, his index finger marked each weapon as he recited their name and caliber.

"Vepr VPO 209 in 9.6 Lancaster or .366 TKM, SKS in 7.62 Warsaw, Vepr Hunter in 7.62 NATO, Baikal 153 in 12 gauge, Remington 870 in 12 gauge, Saiga Carbine in 5.45, and lastly an ADAR 2-15 in 5.56 or .223."

"As much contempt as I have for the west" Pyotr continued "I am going to go the way of the Americans and teach you how to fight, starting with these civilian weapons and working our way up." Seeing all these weapons on the table was a bit exciting, no doubt, I just had one problem.

"These are all beautiful weapons, and I love the idea of this, but the government says I'm only allowed to handle the 209 and the other two shotguns until I have five years experience. And did you say working our way up from civilian weapons!?"

"Da, I did. Let me tell you, before you worry about things government has to say; government also said they would not leave me and fellow soldiers behind in that godforsaken city. If you pay attention, you will remember how that worked out, their word is worth shit."

I wasn't about to let legal jargon hold me back from my dreams of being given combat training by an ex-spetsnaz officer, especially when it was only the two of us. I nodded and made a great effort to lift my gaze from the table to Pyotr.

"Where do we start?" I asked

"There is makeshift range in building over there." Pyotr pointed to what initially assumed to be a warehouse "I want you to take 209 and see if you can hit within…. what do you call it again, Minute of Angle? That's in imperial…. carry the, how did Sergey convert again?…." I could see Pyotr run a few calculations through his head while trying to give an explanation "You should get about 3 MoA at 100 yards, but your longest shot should be at 50 within the building. .366 is certainly not marksman's cartridge, but that is where shooter skill comes in. Magazine are in the bag and so are bullets. Load weapon while I get some things."

Pyotr left towards the van as I inspected the rifle, nothing incredibly fancy on it, but it did have a B-10 lower handguard with a white light of some sort on the side and RK-0 grip on the bottom, as well as a UTG rubber butt pad on the wooden stock. I pulled out full sized 7.62 AK magazines that were pinned off at 10 rounds and boxes of ammo and began to place round in them, as I finished loading the magazines Pyotr came back with a two headsets in hand, passing one off to me.

"Electronic protection." Pyotr started "These ones not only keep you from going deaf, they have microphone to amplify non-harmful sounds, was able to catch at least half dozen guys off guard because I hear them around the corner with these."

Now, I know you never ask a soldier how many people they've killed because it can invoke previous trauma and that it's just plain rude to do so, but Pyotr could bring up his kills in one sentence and talk about the value of life in the next; I think he's created a divide in his own mind between enemies and non-combatants, like they're mutually exclusive to one another, or he's good at hiding the fact that killing bothers him or that as long as he can rationalize the killing it's justified. I figured it's best not to sink my mind into the moral grey areas of warfare, and focus on the task at hand.

Slipping on the headset, I turned to Pyotr once more.

"Am I getting load bearing equipment?"

His response was expectantly swift.

"Show me you can hit shit first, then you get more bullets, you may carry magazine in pocket." I did as much as he allowed, placing one magazine in the weapon and one in each of my pockets.

"One more thing, here." Pyotr handed me a black fleece and nylon zip-up jacket with velcro on each arm and a pair of black gloves.

"Condor Alpha and Mechanix, this is pretty good stuff"

"If you are to be shooter, you must also look like shooter, you will earn patch by end of day if you do well enough."

I nodded while trying to hide my excitement and put on the apparel I had been given, fiddling with the gloves as I worked my hands around to find the headset's on button. The both of us headed towards the building, which looked like it hadn't been accessed in years. I moved some plywood and other debris that covered the nearest door and walked inside.

?

March 24, 5:22:13 AM

Thorn Kingdom, Eostia

What I expected was a really dusty and dirty building with makeshift targets set up and marked at different distances, as well as a set line where the shooter could position themselves. The building didn't look very worn out from the outside, aside from the dirt and overgrowth, so I expected similar of the inside, maybe even cleaner. However, instead of a building I found myself outside once more, but this outside was different than the one I just left. Gone was the forest, the building, the van, and Pyotr. I found myself in the middle of a dirt road with shops on either side of me built in some sort of renaissance fashion. Wooden buildings with banners, flags, and painted signs, along with people in tunics and other garments of the era that I had no name for, entering and exiting said buildings.

This had to be some sort of incredibly elaborate joke, but when I turned my head to find the door I had just left I practically had to jump out of the way of a horse drawn carriage, which I'm sure the driver accosted me for standing in the road like a dipshit as he continued on his way. The carriage itself had a dark Pine Green tarp-like cloth over the dome shaped roof, the back wasn't covered, and inside it looked like people were being taken somewhere. I didn't get a good enough look to remember specific details past the moment, but the occupants looked to be mostly female. I didn't pay it too much mind as I had to figure out if I was even still sane. Maybe I've had some inactive brain disease that just started to show up now and it makes you go crazy and see things. That would explain the complete and sudden shift of the world I knew to this, or maybe I've accidentally shot myself and this is some sort of medieval purgatory and that horse driver is taking those people to be judged or whatever. The rifle still in my hands at least denies the latter theory, unless I'm allowed to bring firearms into the afterlife, I even saw a lot of the men walking by with sheathed swords. I knew that the people could still see me, so asking around would've probably been a more productive use of my time than debating heaven's gun control policies in my head.

The first decision I made was to get off of the road, I wouldn't be doing myself too much good to be walking around the middle of the street and inviting whomever to almost run me over again. I looked from side to side, trying to read what I could each side of street, but the words weren't in any language I spoke or even knew of. It was enough to invoke a few anxious thoughts, being in a place I didn't know with a language I didn't speak was not ideal. The universal sign of a glass of beer was drawn on one of the signs, and if games, movies, and television had taught me anything, it was that the bartender knew everything about anything. I tried to find an opening through a covered window by the entrance too peek inside, but was met with no such opportunity. I pushed the door open and entered the bar, the door moving back into place and then swaying back and forth from the inertia, before finally settling down. I took a look to my right and saw bar shelves lined with bottles, but nobody behind the counter, and to my left was a set of tables and chairs facing a stage.

"Hello?... Is anyone in here?"

It had to be incredibly early in the morning considering the sun was just beginning to rise. The bar must have just finished closing up quite recently. I sighed, a bit defeated and anxious that I might've not been able find another familiar indicator, or would have had to wait for nightfall in a world of which whose rules, dangers, and language I had no knowledge of. Luckily, I found myself being thrown a bone. I began to hear voices coming from behind the curtains of the stage and I tried to peer between the small crack in the velvet where light was coming through, slowly weaving my way through the chairs and tables, I climbed quietly on to the stage and heard a multitude of thuds coming towards me. It was more instinct than thinking that I moved into the curtains and let the fabric swallow me a little. My goddamn hearing protection was what made their approach scare the shit out of me, but I was unnoticed and decided to observe while I could.

Two men came out from behind stage guiding a girl with them, she was a little shorter than I was sporting golden ornamental headwear on top of her short black hair, red and white robes of some sort adorned her body and stopped at about the middle of her thigh where a pair of thigh high socks finished covering her body. After the two guided her off stage they pulled one of the chairs that was upside down on a table and placed it right side up on the ground, sitting her down on it and leaving the room. I was able to confirm that I wouldn't understand them because I could only assume they told her to sit still before they left the bar, she responded to them with tired giggles and a voice I could only pin down as seductive. I looked down to my hands and pushed the middle finger of my right hand forward, flicking down the safety lever as silently as I could; I don't think I was heard, thankfully. Three reentered the bar, this time a hunched figure in a hooded cloak that was frayed and cut was between the two men. The old man removed his hood in front of the girl. He was missing most of his hair where only a few white strands remained, his left eye was cloudy with the right seeming intact, and his face was wrinkled to all hell. He reached out with aged bony fingers to the girl's face getting a feel for her skin, his missing-toothy smile was lecherous in nature, but the girl seemed to be unbothered, the expressions on two men at his sides spoke of their own discomfort. He opened his mouth and it sounded like he half spat when he spoke.

"Maybe we'll start here…" The old man reaches into a sack on his side and pulls out a knife after speaking to the girl, her attitude changing rapidly from her previous disposition.

"W-what the hell are you doing!?" Kaguya's voice becomes shaky as she looks on, a look of horror overcoming her face as the blade was drawn from the bag, making it clear this man's intentions were unlike all of the others'.

"I've paid my money, I've paid good money! Now I will do as I wish with my plaything, when I wish." He worked the slightest edge of the blade against her cheek, a sadistic display of joy as a small stream of blood began to lightly fall out and join tears as they ran down her cheek together. "Just sit back and scream for me."

"My purpose was to be a servant of pleasure, not a sadists toy!" The men held Kaguya against the chair at her sides as she began to struggle for a way out. "Let me go!" When she ran out of momentary energy she began to pant, quiet whimpers of fear accompanied tears as she was forced to endure her own slow torture.

"You are whatever I payed for you to be, now, please thrash about all you plea-..." His eye shifted around the room and caught the strange individual half-hidden in the curtain, adorned with clothing and weaponry no eye of this world had seen before. "You there, who are you!?" The other two who had designated themselves to keeping the shrine maiden in place shifted their gaze to where the old man had shifted his.

I didn't understand his tongue, but the tone and expression he conveyed were pretty much universal. I didn't respond, not that I could've in the face of this lunatic anyway. I could feel my hands beginning to tremor and clutch onto my rifle. I was scared, I had no doubt about that, but I felt something else inside, something that took a moment to pin down and put into words. It was that same feeling I got whenever I saw an unprovoked aggressor hurt defenseless people, the kind of feeling I got when when a monster was allowed to pray on the weak and everyone would just let it happen their arbitrary rules said they can't do anything, the kind of feeling that justifies excessive cruelty on the enemy. I felt rage, a feeling I had spent many times convincing myself it wasn't worth the energy, that it would make me do something stupid and cause more problems. This wasn't the time to push it away, now was the was the time to use it to my motivation. Remembering what I had seen from Pyotr gave me an idea on how to act. I took a breath and focused as the two men let go of the girl's arms, drawing their swords and approaching me. I shouldered the stock of the rifle and canted it to the left a little, bringing my left arm under to the other side and grabbing onto the charging handle. The metallic sounds of a round being pulled from the magazine and chambered were symphonic in the moment as I seated my hand on the grip. The two men stopped to look at each other as I raised the weapon to my cheek, their confusion was an advantage I used to find out exactly how well this hearing protection worked. With my finger on the trigger I centered the rear leaf sight with the front post on one of their heads. I knew I pulled the trigger, because everyone in the room except for myself and the fresh corpse jumped at the sound.

I learned something new in that moment. When someone dies by getting shot in the head in a movie or video game it's usually dramatic and there's a lot of blood and/or gore, but that's not what really happens. Sure, there was blood and whatever else lies within the cranium stuck on the wall behind, but I didn't expect death to look like someone had just dropped a sack of produce on the ground, a big nothing of here one split second and gone the next.

I didn't give the other much time to rethink his motives, two more rounds left the barrel of the weapon and the next body dropped just like the last, the old cretin was covering his ears through the cloak. The desire to kill left as quickly as it came, but I wasn't full of regrets like I thought I would be if ever put into a situation like this. My next move was to hop off the stage, and I approached the girl from behind. I didn't see much of her face, but I offered my supporting hand to her while keeping the weapon trained on the lunatic backing up to the main entrance. It took quite a moment, but her soft and slender hand was placed into the palm of my glove and I guided her behind me as I placed my free hand back on the rifle grip.

"You insolent fools! I will have your heads, believe me! I will tell Vault about this egregious insubordination!"

The old man spat what I could only assume to be expletives at the both of us as we backed up to a door that was on the opposite side of the room as the main entrance. I made a mistake and turned around to face the girl because only a split second later I felt an immense pain rip through my lower left back. The girl gasped audibly; Her amber eyes were in shock, and her hands covered her mouth. As I fell to a knee I saw the old man's knife covered in blood and stuck in the wall beside me. I reacted by turning my body and pointing my weapon at a moving silhouette on the other side of the window, emptying the last seven rounds at it. I didn't hit shit.