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The white light that came from the bulb blinded Yuliya's eyes and it caused her to shut them and she turned away from the bulb. She was upright in a metal chair, hands cuffed behind her as a precaution. They were worried she might have been radicalized or brainwashed by the militia that captured her, a somewhat rational fear, she had been out for two months. She couldn't remember anything like that, of what she could remember. If it had been some sort of subconcious control, it had failed miserably.
"Eyes open, First Lieutenant Bousaid." The investigator sat across from her, a metal table between them, demanded and Yuliya obliges, and looked him directly in the eyes. He ws an older man, square face, hard eyes, dressed in the typical Major General's uniform, dark green with a white dress shirt and blue tie. She's dressed in her sweaty and threadbare field uniform, camo shirt and pants, covered in dried blood stains from the blood of her comrades and some of her own. There was a hole in her undershirt on the shoulder, it wasn't visible, but she feels it rub up against her body every time she shifts a little. She stares at him, emotionally empty since waking up in a holding cell four weeks ago. The nightmares and hallucinations came later, after her honorable discharge.
"Now, Lieutenant Bousaid." The investigator said, and passed a document forward. It was an official documentation of the mortar attack she had been in, which looked surprisingly short, only one or two pages. "This is our report on the attack in Alchevsk."
"It's rather small." Yuliya remarked robotically, unable to fake an emotion quite yet.
"Yes." The investigator said, and Yuliya heard sarcasm drip from his voice. "That's why you're here."
"You are the only known survivor of the shelling." He continued, his hands folded on the small metal table. "Everything in that report is written after the attacks, when the aftermath was discovered. So… about 2 hours after, we presume."
"I see." Yuliya whispered, and looked down at the paper. Of what she could read, it seemed very vague and nonspecific. Nothing like what she remembered, what stewed in her mind late at night.
"So, tell me." The investigator said, and looked Yuliya directly in the eyes. "What happened in Alchevsk?"
Yuliya jolts awake from the dream, sitting up on her couch, panting loudly. It takes her a few moments to realize that nothing that happened to her in her dream was real, just a figment of her imagination. She holds her head in her hands before glancing over at the kitchen to see if someone got in while she was gone. Bdzi is asleep on a tiny little bed that Yuliya had made out of fabric scraps and a slice of foam months ago and placed on the kitchen counter, the fabric on top of her sleeping form. The television is still switched on, which is now discussing the latest prospects for the Pokemon League.
Yuliya gingerly stands up from the couch, stretching her arms out and grunting. The award was today, so she had to make her way out to the Verkhovna Rada as soon as possible. If she skipped or arrived late, she'd end up looking like a complete asshole. Right now, she's dressed in a mere white t-shirt and faded blue shorts that only reached to her mid thighs, not exactly award ceremony material. As she thinks to herself, she's suddenly hit with a pang of hunger so bad that she almost throws up. Clothes and food, that's what she needs right now. Food first, she tells herself.
She walks into the kitchen slowly, brutally aware of Bdzi sleeping on the counter. She swings the fridge open and looks through it, surprisingly full for a paranoid shut in like herself. It's tempting to just shove a yogurt down her gullet and call it a breakfast like usual, but Yuliya knows that she must be at her best during the ceremony, so she reaches for two eggs, some butter and flour. It's scrambled eggs, how her mother has always done it, called 'murtuga' in Kurdish. Yuliya feels that she needs that home cooked comfort before the inevitable stress of the award ceremony, and quickly gets to work with her pan.
After 15 minutes, she's done with her cooking, and scrapes fluffy yellow egg yolk onto her plate, and reaches for a piece of paper on the counter, before bringing a chair to said counter and sitting down. As she eats her food, she looks over the piece of paper, one of the 150 pages of a document she managed to bring back from the military base she fled, hidden away in a suitcase. Unfortunately, the entire thing was in English, so gleaning it's knowledge seemed nigh impossible for her, who could only say "hello" and "goodbye", and had to have a translator on hand at all times while chatting with a US military official who came to her base on a visit. Instead of turning the paper over to the authorities, that would probably just laugh it off like they did when her parents asked for an investigation, however, Yuliya was determined to translate it herself, so that she could find her brother. She knew that there was information about what happened to him in the 150 pages of documents, and the sooner that Yuliya knew it, the better. The paper started off with a big black and white picture of a younger Yuliya, hair to her chin, no smile this time, just a serious expression, glaring down the camera.
Here's what she could translate so far:
SUBJECT NAME: Yuliya Darya Bousaid (Юлія даря боусаид)
AGE: 30 years old (As of 11/14/16)
DOB: July 17th 1986 (17/7/86)
PLACE OF BIRTH: Kiev, USSR (now Ukraine)
PLACE OF RESIDENCE: - - Avenue, Kiyv, Ukraine
SEX: Female
HEIGHT: 6'0 (182 cm)
WEIGHT: 111 pounds (50 kg)
BUILD: Muscular but thin
Occupation: Military sniper for the Ukrainian Armed Forces
HAIR: Black
EYES: Brown
NATIONALITY: Ukrainian
ETHNICITY: Kurdish
Subject was born to Fareeha and Erfan Bousaid on July 17th 1985. Subject's father… Iran, before... before... Subject's mother … Iraq … 1979... Saddam Hussein … met in… married in... Subject had a … Kiev… Subject… Ukrainian Armed Forces … Maidan … Donbass …
Then everything turns to meaningless symbols. Yuliya remembers the shock and horror she felt when she first discovered how much that this paper knew about her family, about her whole life. She remembers running quickly to the bathroom and kneeling before the toilet with white knuckles, heaving and sobbing. It took her months afterwards for her to even touch the paper out of fear. Now, she was struggling desperately to translate enough to turn the page. How funny…
Her attention is taken from the papers by Bdzi, who stirs from her little bed on the side. She pulls off the covers with one of her tiny, dark hands. The bee pokemon yawns and stretched her arms, much like her owner did, who was watching with a smile on her face.
"Hello, little one." Yuliya says softly, and Bdzi hums and walks over to where Yuliya was resting her head. Bdzi tapped her nose softly, causing her to giggle loudly. The woman got up from her seat and walked to her fridge, grabbing a white bottle of nectar and pouring it out into a shallow bowl for Bdzi.
"Here ya go…" Yuliya smiled, placing the dish onto the counter. Bdzi hummed a thanks, and flew over to it, drinking rapidly. She smiled at her pokemon, before heading back to the fridge, placing the nectar back, and pulling out a dead mouse with white fur from the freezer. She placed it into her black microwave and defrosted it, before placing it on the chopping block. Humming to herself, she grabbed a cleaver, and decapitated the mouse with a loud thunk, and tossing the head into the trash. Gingerly, she held the mouse by the tail and placed it on a plate, and walked to her bedroom with it in her hands.
Her bedroom was dark, and she turned the lights on with a flick of a switch. Her bed was still perfectly made, tan covers tucked in. It was still made for spring, which was the last time she slept in it, while on break from service. Photos of her mother and father from their marriage in Turkey were tacked on the dark blue walls, another with both her and her brother in their arms after their birth, pictures of the two in school, graduation, deployment, etc. She glances at them, not really wanting to stew on it too much to avoid an attack. Raffu is a perch placed on the window by the bed, looking out the window. He jumps when Yuliya places the plate on the windowsill, and he turns her head to look at her. The bird pokemon chirps at her, and digs into the mouse with his razor sharp beak. Yuliya looks away from the inevitable carnage, and instead opens her closet, flipping through multiple outfits.
Eventually, after a lot of deliberation, she decides on a crisp white dress shirt, which she buttons up and tucks into her dark dress pants, and she pulls a black suit jacket over her, buttoning it up as well. As she looks over her outfit, she becomes aware of every little crease in her pants and every piece of fuzz on her jacket, and quickly attempts to fix it. After making herself look spotless and therefore completely normal, she walks to the bathroom a few paces from her room, peering at the mirror. She looks haggard, bags hanging under her eyes and her hair all over the place. With a little wrangling with a brush, Yuliya manages to get her hair less matted looking, and put it all up into a loose ponytail. She grabs her makeup case, and works rapidly to make herself less… tired looking. After a few minutes, she looks somewhat decent, and decides to leave the bathroom.
Bdzi immediately greets Yuliya with loud, happy noises, spinning around her head. Yuliya giggles loudly at the very excited ribombee, and walks towards the apartment front door, grabbing her dark woolen peacoat and a red scarf, wrapping it around her neck. Walking back to the living room, she locates and picks up Bdzi's pokeball, feeling a little more confident with her around.
"Alright." Yuliya says, straightening herself out in front of the door, before turning to the bee pokemon currently hovering above her head. "If you get too cold and want to go inside, just tell me, alright?" Bdzi nodded, and Yuliya pulls open the door and walks out.
The hallway was a light cream color, somewhat warm, somewhat cool, and red carpeting across the floor. Yuliya makes her way down the hall, Bdzi floating by her side, and towards the steel elevator, clicking the down button. She slides into the capsule, Bdzi snuggled in her scarf, and fidgets as the elevator comes down, looking all around her and thinking to herself about the award. Will people bug her on the street from now on? Yuliya shudders at the thought, less willing to go outside now.
However, she manages to bring herself to step outside the lobby doors, once she reaches the lobby from the elevator. The outdoors is cold, smells overtly of gasoline, soggy, loud with talking and cars as crowds pass her by, and over all tiring. Yuliya just swallows, inhales a long breath, exhales, like everything evil is passing out of her, and walks towards the metro station.
The Verkhovna Rada is only one metro stop down from where she lives and a couple blocks left, so Yuliya buys a ticket and a candy bar and waits for the train in one of the old Soviet train stations, deep within the earth. Bdzi is still holding out strong, huddled in her owner's scarf. Others around them have their pokemon out, one young lady has a shinx rubbing against her side, another has a pikachu resting on top of her head.
Yuliya gets on the train, and reaches for her phone and earbuds, placing them in her ears. If she doesn't put them in, something she overhears on the train might send her spiraling into an attack, and that's nothing she needs right now. Instead, she listens to David Brubeck's "Take Five" on repeat until she notices that her stop is up next, and stands up, ready to leave.
She gets off the train and heads up the stairs quickly, not wanting to make too much of a fuss. This part of Kiev is full of older, stone historical buildings squashed in with the modern cookie cutter apartments in the background. Commuters and tourists alike surround her, and she begins her breathing routines again before walking down the streets towards the Verkhovna Rada building. Halfway there, she orders a mocha to go, suddenly feeling a craving for a coffee similar to the cravings she had when she served. Unlike her excursions into cafes in the Donbass region, Yuliya felt the eyes of all the customers on her, chattering amongst themselves. Did they know her? Was she recognizable now? Yuliya sinks into her coat and gently pulls her scarf over her mouth, peeking out. She left before she could over think it all, walking closer and closer to the building she needed to be in.
Finally, white labradorite facade of the Verkhovna Rada towers over Yuliya, greeting her silently. She can see a crowd of news cameras and journalists mixing with the general crowd, and she feels her stomach drop. Silently, she holds a hand over her heart and repeats her breathing exercises. It will all be okay. It will all be okay. Facing your fears is one part of conquering them, overcoming them. She needs this.
Yuliya pushes forward, walking towards the front of the building, Bdzi floating around despite the cold. Somehow, the presence of her pokemon makes her feel comforted, like she has someone to stand by. No matter. She hears the shutters of cameras as she walks past, and Yuliya forces a smile on her face and waves to them primly, Bdzi floating aimlessly.
The news cameras follow her into the Verkhovna Rada, where she retrieves Bdzi, and hangs her coat up near silently. She had nothing really to say, nothing new, nothing interesting that they could grill her about. If she did, her stammer would probably get in the way of any actual conversation. A male guide, grey hair balding and only about to her chin, shakes her hand and leads her through the building, dodging people at work, darting to and from places like excited wishiwashi.
Before she enters the hall where her award will be presented to her, Yuliya is met with a large group of MPs from the parliament, most of them men in their later 30s, peering at her, like young, curious children peeking out from their mother's form. She stares at them as well, peering at their faces until she sees someone she recognizes. It's a woman, a few inches shorter than Yuliya, with a dark crew cut, pale skin and piercing green eyes, a much stockier frame than Yuliya's, but clad in a similar outfit of dress shirts and suit jackets and pants. The woman looks at her with a serious expression, mouth thin and green eyes practically glaring at her, not exactly welcoming.
Yuliya knows her. Well, not personally, but knows of her. Her name is Oksana Tymoshenko, and she was once in the military, similar to Yuliya herself, one of the first pilots to serve before Maidan. After fighting in a volunteer battalion in the war, getting captured by separatist fighters and ransomed off, she'd chosen to join politics instead, becoming very popular in the process. Unlike Yuliya, she appeared to have lost none of her spunk while imprisoned, and still had a wit and stubbornness to her that amazed the other woman. Yuliya viewed Oksana as her superior in both mental fortitude and seniorty (Oksana was first enlisted in 2006, Yuliya in 2012).
So, naturally, Yuliya straightened up, and saluted Oksana to the best of her ability. Oksana's expression changed from curiosity, to shock at being saluted, to a mixture of amusement and… warmth? The other MPs smile and laugh amongst themselves, but from what Yuliya can read, it's not malicious laughter. They don't seem to be mocking her, at least in public. Yuliya shakes it off, and walks towards the front door of the hall, with gilded handles with leafy designs.
She pulls the doors open.