The nightmares never started with blood. They started as dreams. Good ones, too.
She was small again, peeking over the counter as her мати made varenyky fro dinner. Stand on tiptoes, reach up, try to sneak one
мати turns around, smiles at her again. It's been so long now since Mira had seen that smile. She runs to the woman who raised her, arms outstretched for a long overdue hug, but of course she doesn't make it there. She never makes it there.
Bang.
The nightmares never started with blood, but they always ended that way.
Mira jerked upright in bed, pistol already in her hands, pointing at nothing. She takes a shallow, shaky breath, then another, then another, then puts the gun down.
There's no one here in this dingy motel room but herself and the demons she brought with her. Mira put the gun down, sighed, and ran her hands over her face. She wasn't getting back to sleep, not tonight, not after that, so coffee it was. Might as well get some work done if she wasn't going to rest.
"It is getting worse." A familiar robotic voice pipes up from somewhere above the window. "You organics' minds are so very fragile."
"Shut the hell up, Reginald. I'm not in the mood right now." Mira glares up at the AI, who is currently inhabiting a NUSA bird drone chassis he'd somehow managed to hack. She didn't know how he'd done it, and truthfully she hadn't bothered to ask.
"You are never in the mood."
"Exactly."
"Hmph."
Once the damn bird finally lapsed into silence, Mira stood up and went and got her laptop from the still-packed bag near the window. She tried to remember when the last time she could walk through town without constantly looking over her shoulder. How many years had it been now? Three? Four? Yeah, almost four now. The screen glowed to life in the dark, casting an eerie blue light over Mira's already pale features. She pauses at a particular contact, cursor hovering over the "New Message" button hesitantly. Tell him what's going on, a voice that may have been her common sense whispered in her head. He'll help you.
And risk him finding out just how much of a failure his protegee actually is? Heeeeeeeeell no, her pride replied.
Her pride won.
Mira read that accursed contract over again for what must've been the hundredth time, not really sure what she was hoping to find. Something she'd missed, some easy loophole to exploit, maybe, but the inconsiderate document hadn't miraculously changed overnight. God, what a mess. It really, really, really fucking sucked being on this side of the equation. Mira swore vehemently in her native language yet again. She hadn't had a choice; her options had been bad, very bad, and infinitely worse, so she'd taken the lesser of several evils. Didn't make her any less bitter about it. Still, the damn thing was very clear about what she had to do now: Put together a crew of four, wait for further instructions.
Mira swore again. Loudly.
Well, she had to do what she had to do, and she had a few ideas. A few keyboard strokes, and a pair of pictures glowed to life on her screen. She still needed a third target, but this was a start, at least.
If anyone who knew her could see her now... oh, the fall to rock bottom fucking hurt.
Glossary of Words/Phrases in Other Languages:
мати - mother in Ukrainian
varenyky - a type of Ukrainian dumpling similar to pierogies, can be savory or sweet