chapter 6 :Not a Fascist

Weiss Schnee

"Don't worry, it will be fine," Katya reassured me one last time before we stepped toward

the checkpoint.

After I had killed those soldiers, Katya had walked in. She told me they were Russian

soldiers, that they were after me, and we had to leave immediately. She handed me some

old, dirty, and disgusting clothes that I reluctantly donned. We also grabbed some food,

water, and bags to put our stuff (okay, mostly my stuff), in.

A guard with one of those archaic rifles (called a Kalash, apparently) stood in our path. We

stopped, and Katya exchanged words in that strange language (Russian? Ukrainian?) with

him.

I was tense. Myrtenaster was in my borrowed duffle bag with my combat dress, and it was

disassembled. I still had my glyphs, and apparently the people here broke easily, but it still

made me nervous.

"Okay, we can go through," Katya told me after what seemed like a much longer time than it

probably was. The guard stepped aside, and we stepped through.

"Spasiba," she said to the guards as we passed.

"Spassibo," I tried to repeat, failing miserably. One of the guards gave me an odd look

before shrugging and turning away.

"So, where are we going to go?" I asked as we walked away from the checkpoint. Katya had

stressed very heavily that we had to leave immediately, but she had never actually said

where we were going.

"I have family in Kiev," she replied. "They take, problem is get there."

"So why did you stay in Donetsk?" It was a terrible place for a girl like her to be- for anyone

to be. Katya had explained what they meant by bombing. Apparently there was something

called a BM-21, which you could put on one side of a hill and fire indiscriminately toward

civilians. I presumed it was supposed to be used some other way, perhaps against an

advancing army.

She stressed that there was a ceasefire and the violence was supposed to stop, that the

people fighting were simply holding out. Hopefully the fighting would end soon, but the

people sent to get me- Russians, apparently- would not stop trying to get me.

Why did they want me, anyway? Did they believe I was really Weiss Schnee? None of it

made any sense.

"It was safer to stay than to try leave," Katya replied simply. "Now, it safer to leave than

stay."

"Why are you doing this for me?" I asked. This wasn't her fight. I was a fictional character,

or someone like her. I had no relationship to her and no reason to be here. "Why not just

turn me in?"

I wouldn't like it, but I would understand. I would say I would do the same in a heartbeat...

but I'm not so sure anymore.

"Is wrong, you know?" she replied. "My parent say, you help those in need. And in Donetsk,

that is what happen. You girl my age, we could be friend. I help you."

"I don't understand."

"It wrong to turn you over to soldiers, so I help instead."

"Okay." I sort of followed her reasoning. Why couldn't she have better Valic?

After we had walked for five minutes or so, Katya began trying to wave down passing

vehicles, of which they were few. Eventually an old truck stopped beside us. The man inside

called something in that strange language, and Katya replied. I had no idea what they were

saying. I caught Kiev and Dnepropetrovsk as a response, but I don't know what that meant.

"We have ride," Katya announced, motioning me to get into the old, dirty, smelly vehicle. It

was very tight inside- I think the front was only meant for two people. I ended up

sandwiched between Katya and the driver, a dirty, smelly old man who grinned lecherously

at me. I frowned and looked away.

Finally, perhaps an hour later, the situation came to a head. The driver decided he would try

to get a feel. Well, I would not stand for that. I heard (and felt) a distinct crack as the back of

my left hand impacted his face.

He screamed in pain, hammering on the brakes and bringing the truck to a stop. He clutched

his face, moaning out what I assumed were obscenities.

"Get out!" I shouted at Katya. She quickly opened the door and hopped out of the vehicle. I

grabbed my bag and followed.

"Run!" I ordered, then added more diplomatically, "Let's get out of here before he gets up!"

"I do not think he get back up!" Katya replied tensely as we bolted away from the truck. "I

think you hit hard!"

"It wasn't that hard," I protested. Well, okay, I was disgusted and it may have been a pretty

hard backhand. "It's not like I broke his... jaw..."

Oh. So that's what that cracking was.

"Katya, I've been meaning to ask you something," I began. She slowed to a fast walk, and I

followed. "Why are people here injured so easily?"

"What you mean?" she asked.

"I didn't hit him that hard. I mean, it shouldn't have broken his jaw," I explained. "Those

soldiers I, well, those soldiers I killed, when I hit them with Myrtenaster they just kind of...

exploded."

Katya was silent, a ponderous look on her face. She slowed down and stopped.

"Katya?"

"It make sense if you are Weiss," she said finally, like it was some great revolution.

"That's what I've been saying for the past two days!"

"But it not make sense! This Earth, not Remnant! Real world! How this happen? Cannot

happen!"

"How do you think I feel?" I replied, rounding on her. "I am a fictional character in this

world. Unfortunately, I don't have time to deal with the resulting existential crisis, because I

have ended up in the middle of a war that operates by completely different rules than the

ones I know. I am in an unfamiliar land surrounded by people who speak a language I have

never heard before."

Quietly, Katya asked, "But how do I believe?"

"I can prove it," I said. Raising my right hand, I summoned a glyph. It was a simple one that

could act as a temporary platform, and it dissipated a few seconds later.

"Yob tvoyu maht!" Katya shouted.

"What does that even mean?" I asked, but I didn't get a reply.

"Eto ochen' grubyy yazyk dlya molodoy devushki," a voice called from the road. An old

brown car was stopped beside us. An elderly woman leaned out the window. "Vy

nuzhdayetes' v poyezdke v Dnepropetrovsk?"

Katya replied, "Dnepropetrovsk? Da."

They exchanged some rapid-fire word in that language, and then Katya opened the back

door and motioned me in.

I followed, hissing, "This better not be a repeat of what just happened."

"They are nice old grandparents," Katya assured me. "Will be fine. Besides, you are, well..."

The driver, an old man with next to no hair, turned in his seat and said something to me.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Katya said something to him, and he nodded in understanding. In forced Valic, the old man

said, "Please relax, try enjoy ride."

I leaned back into the seat and tried to follow the advice, but I couldn't. I was too tense, and

too busy thinking about the current situation.

I didn't know exactly how long it took to get to our destination. I had packed my scroll away

in my backpack and couldn't get to it. It felt like an hour or two, and by the time we had

arrived it was starting to get dark. I saw what looked like an old house in a mostly open

field. I guess this was where they lived.

The old couple had spent most of the trip talking to Katya. Occasionally, Katya would

translate and repeat something to me. From what I gathered, most of the conversation was a

one sided mixture of sob story and condemnation of war. The old man mentioned something

called the Great Patriotic War, which I doubted was either great or patriotic, and also

mentioned a place called Afghanistan.

"Is this Dnepropetrovsk?" I asked as I stepped out of the car, badly butchering the

pronunciation.

"No, is house, some, uh, outside city," the old man explained. He said something to Katya.

She repeated to me, "He say we stay night here, then he take to Dnepropetrovsk in morning.

He say it not far."

"Oh, I rude, I forget," the old woman said as we walked toward the house. "What is name?"

"Weiss Schnee."

"You are German?" She narrowed her eyes. "I hope you not Nazi or other fascist."

"I don't even know what that is," I replied honestly. I guess it's something bad.

She smiled a thin smile. "Then we have no problem. Come inside, da."

I stepped inside the house. It was old, dark, and dirty, but in its own way homely and cozy.

A place that would appeal to someone like Ruby more than it appealed to me. There were

little things and pictures scattered on nearly every available surface.

A few pictures and what looked like a pair of military medals sat on the hearth above the

fireplace. I walked over to get a closer look. The first medal sat beside a black-and-white

picture of a smiling young soldier and another photograph of a happy family. The medal

itself was brass, with a large red star overlaid on it and a red circle with a hammer and sickle

over it. There was a bit of text - OTEYECTBEHHAR BONHA. I don't think that was how it

was supposed to be read.

The other medal also had pictures clustered around it. These ones were in colour, although

they were faded. They showed another young soldier, carrying a newer looking rifle and

more equipment. He, too, was smiling. The medal itself was a simple brass star, with no text

on the front.

These weren't the old man's decorations. These were family members they had lost. I looked

away and followed Katya to the dining room table.

Dinner was pleasant, if quiet. The food was like the couple and the house- simple, but well-

meaning. It was definitely much better than the packaged food I had eaten earlier. It was

something between soup and stew, along with bread and mixed vegetables. It was tasty

enough, but even after seconds I wasn't really satisfied.

That struck me as odd. I didn't know I ate that much. In fact, I usually don't. I need to keep

my trim figure, you know.

"Do not have room, but two couch," the old man explained apologetically after dinner,

motioning to the living room. "Get blanket."

"Thank you," I replied politely. I was not looking forward to sleeping on the couch, but at

least I was going to get some sleep tonight.

I sat down beside Katya on one of the couches. It instantly sank beneath my not very

substantial weight. My guess was that it had been destroyed for years.

"I am sorry, I forget tell you, because we busy," she told me, pulling out what looked like a

small scroll. "I check video, put comment, get message. Before leave Donetsk, I send. I not

read well, you read."

She handed me the scroll, which I gingerly took. There was a menu bar at the top and some

symbols on the side, flanking a triplet of messages written in Valic in the middle.

I think we might know this girl. There's a Weiss that we've lost contact wit. Can you tell us

moar?

Is very bad situation. Maybe real Weiss, she kill soldiers. Say they are special regiment send

to get her, she not let, kill with sword. In danger. Try to Kiev. Katya out.

Okay, here's the deal. You might be right about that being the real Weiss. We've got the real

Ruby beside us in Canada. It sounds insane, but ask Weiss. She'll be able to prove it. We

can't bring Ruby, but we're going to try to get to Ukraine. If you could meet us in Kiev that

would be great. Maybe Thursday or Friday, depending on flights. I'll send more details as

we get them.

"Ruby?" I asked incredulously, handing the mini-scroll back.

"I thought must be crazy, joke, not talk, then you Glyph," Katya explained.

"Well, maybe we can get answers from these people," I said after a moment of thought. "If

they're not lying."

"That is always possibility," Katya agreed. "They send video, but too slow to watch. Try in

Dnepropetrovsk or Kiev."

"Definitely." After a moment, I added. "But reply, if you can. Tell them... tell them to tell

Ruby that I'd like to get Ice Flower working."

"Ice Flower?" Katya asked skeptically. Okay, good. That was something that wasn't on the

show.

"It's a combo attack. She'll know what I mean." I added.

"Ah."

The old man returned with an armful of bedding. He announced, "Blanket," along with

something in that other language. Then, more gently, he added, "Guten nacht, Weiss

Schnee."

I didn't sleep well- I kept tossing and turning, running through everything I knew and not

figuring out any answers. I tried to focus on accomplishing our current task- get to Kiev,

wherever that was- but my mind kept wandering. How did I get here? Why was I here? Was

Ruby also here? Where was here?

Eventually, I drifted off to sleep. It felt like I woke up right after I fell asleep. The morning

was a blur.

I remember breakfast. Toast and jam. Pleasant, but wholly unsatisfying.

I remember grabbing my bag and getting into the car. They said they would take us to

Dnipropetrovsk Glavnij, the train station.

I remember getting out of the car and walking into the train station. It cost something like

two hundred Hryvnia- I guess that was money like Lien- for the tickets. I remember that.

I remember Katya paying another twenty Hryvnia to one of the guards. I don't remember

why.

I remember getting a chocolate bar and devouring it like Ruby devours cookies.

I remember going to the washroom, which was filthy and disgusting.

I remember the old man giving me a cup of vile coffee, saying I needed it. It was disgusting,

but I drank it anyway.

The next thing I knew, we were on the platform, about to board the train.

"Good luck on journey," the old man told me, before pulling me into a rough hug. He

released me after a moment, and the old lady did the same. They repeated it with Katya,

except the sentiment was in a different language.

Wordlessly, I boarded the train. It occurred to me that even after all they had done for us, I

had not even bothered to learn the old couple's names.