The Trench Yuri
All trenches lead to the trench yuri. Takes place in the long night universe, somewhere deep in the trenches.
For those who go here,
Abandon all hope,
And become blessed
I don’t think that pain chooses who to hurt.
Grabbing a small torch, I walked through the tunnels with my 8 thralls. Grabbing a small cross, I inserted it into a small, almost invisible keyhole inside the wall.
The torch then burnt out, signaling the loss of oxygen as multiple small doors opened, unleashing 7-foot-tall mechanical demigods. Each of them was armed with knives for fingers and a second pair of arms holding random armaments of maces, knives, and small shoulder-guns.
This was deep inside the trenches, where the labyrinth of tunnels would be. My mechanical respirator brought extra air to her lungs as I strode through the airless passage. The gas-helmet hiding my face behind the
I signalled with my extra mechanical arm to the mechanators to stop. I spotted a warm, faint glow coming from above. A small patrol of 20 people.
Freezing up, I signaled to the mechanicators to slowly stalk their prey. The patrol slowly passed by as the stalking mechanical creatures skittered towards them.
Using the radio, I commanded one of the mechanized squads to ambush them. Using the relay, I saw the mechanicators charge into the patrol from the back. Their hulking masses tearing through their enemies. The patrol was devastated and routed. Around 4 people escaped the squad, so I notified the mechanitor squad to regroup by a nearby staging tunnel I had used since my deployment into this labyrinth. I pushed the rest of my remaining forces into their respective squads. They would be slaughtering the sleeping soldiers, but mostly officers.
But I have a special mission.
Based on intel found through word of mouth, the microphones inside the greater empire’s trenches informed us of a runaway mutant posing as a soldier. Reading through the mutant’s file, I could only imagine a grotesque creature with multiple limbs. However, something struck me: the file stated that she was very important to the war effort. Something about one of her mutations made her very important. Important enough to have the greater empire send out an easily interceptable message.
“They really shouldn’t rely on sending random people on foot as their main information transfer info,” I thought as the narrow tunnel finally opened up. “So easy for a partisan to just bribe the messenger for a copy” I said to myself as I checked the walls.
I ordered my 8 thralls to go into stalk protocol and slowly crept into the enemy tunnels. I scanned through the men's sleeping quarters, I scanned through the women's sleeping quarters, I even scanned the restrooms, but nothing could be found. I was getting ready to let the mechanitors loose on the several different officer sleeping quarters when I heard strange noises coming from a room. Pulling out my plasma pistol, I ordered my thralls to follow me as I slowly shifted into the room. From that angle, I could only describe the events as a weird…thing. One of the commanding officers was here holding a leash connected to some poor girl’s neck. Is this some kind of weird thing? The girl was struggling to do anything, handcuffed to the bed and gagged. All the girl could do was watch and cry. I was about to turn around, but then I noticed that the girl didn’t have a set of human ears. Instead, all I could see were a pair of…cat ears? Originally, I chalked it up to being another weird kink, but after seeing this, I knew that this was my target. There were no human ears, just cat ears and…a tail? Well…she’s technically a mutant, I have so many questions for the upper command on why they want me to capture her.
I pushed aside my thoughts instead, priming my gun and signaling my thralls to prepare their weapons.
The officer was right in front of the girl, now pinning her arms down against the wall. The girl tried screaming, flailing her arms around in almost every direction. The girl’s eyes flickered, darting towards me in an almost pleading manner.
Now she’s going to give my position away.
Rapidly, I signalled to the mechanitors to begin the harvesting as I quickly drew my plasma pistol, shooting a single deadly shot into the officer's chest. The melted plasma burnt a hole through his chest, the flesh peeling off of his chest along with whatever features that were on his skin. He let out a final scream, followed by a chorus of screams and shrieks as the mechanitor’s targets woke up to their slaughter. I sent out the order for retreat as I shot the handcuff off the bed. Without slowing down my pace, I approached the girl, grabbed the leash, and pulled it towards me. For some reason, she did not struggle that much in a sign of defeat. I pulled her close in an attempt to sneak her past.
A strange feeling shivered down my metallic spine as I felt a squeezing feeling. I brushed the feeling aside like it was nothing, just an abnormal increase in blood flow.
Then, a group of 15 officers armed with sabers and a ragtag mix of whatever weapons they could find off their nightstands entered the room, screaming as they charged. Silently, I cursed myself for not escaping quickly enough or for not being more subtle.
I had my thralls hold the line as I tried my best to subdue the mutant. I didn’t feel like touching her because it made my heart beat irregularly. Instead, I just attached the leash from her neck to my belt and turned around as 4 officers rushed my position. Pulling out my standard-issue saber, I swiped through the first man’s throat, letting him choke in his blood. I then shot the other woman, the shot melting through her rib cage. Then my mechanical arm saved me as an officer rushed from behind me, only to have his face clamped onto by the mechanical limb. His body flailed and wailed, then the clamp crushed his skull. The fourth still charged, screaming.
He screamed something about how his nation screwed him over or something. It was interesting, so I spared him his quick death, thrusting deeply into his eye. I then rushed past the ensuing chaos, dragging the girl with me as I ordered my remaining thralls to retreat. The damaged ones of the ground suddenly erupted into flames as the small hand grenades I put inside them finally detonated. Pulling the pin on multiple smoke and gas grenades, I escaped. But while the grenades detonated, I hastily shoved a gas mask onto her face. Hoping that this bare minimum of face protection would save her from the lung-liquefying gases.
It was a slightly more chaotic battle, I thought as I watched the battle from my mechanitor's eyes. They sustained more damage than the other raids due to the amount of time we were there, but they had succeeded. I attached a small breathing mask to the girl's face.
On the way back she was hyperventilating, the trauma of the experience finally getting through to her. We were right outside the trench entrances to the home. I slid the gas mask off to check to see how the girl was faring. She remained silent but still panicked. The commanding officer looked at me and spoke in white noise, “Kiss her”
“Why?”
“I heard from the troops that it makes people calmer.”
“Sure”, I said with a small sigh of defeat, leaning in. Only then to lean out, “Never mind. Kissing a girl just to make them feel calm feels wrong.”
Changing to 3rd person
She then taped the newly caught prisoner and carried her over to her quarters because the prison cells seemed a bit too dangerous for important assets. The prison cells are for biofuel. This person, according to her logs, captured her because the enemy really wanted to ‘collect’ her biomaterial or something.
Dropping off the girl in a random corner of her room, she closed the door. There were gaps in her knowledge. “Why was she so important? Why does our enemy want to capture her alive rather than dead?”
Well, until further notice, she can be used for listening for enemy underground assaults. She reached the central area of the undertrenches now, there where some barracks for the infantry in one area, and some barracks for the tech thralls, the barracks for the mechanitors and then the officer, tech worshiper, and commander quarters.
Slowly walking down the corridor she grabbed a 2 meal packs, one for herself and one for the girl. The girl’s mutations drew gazes from the mass of infantry and even from some of the tech thralls, confused why their barracks now has what is sometimes a cat and sometimes a human.
When she got into her room she opened the sliding blast door as she entered the room. It was lightly furnished with only the bare minimum. A bed, a small portable lamp, some photos of her home town and a plush cat.
Grabbing a small knife from her back pocket she grabbed the girl by the wrist polling her close and cut the leash off of her. She then tried to let go, however the girl’s hand was adamantly attached to her arm. Like a small feline holding onto their favorate toy she wouldn’t let her go. Her face also was a strange shade of red and the scanners detected higher blood flow in her. So to rectify this she did what she did last time to calm her down.
This had an opposite effect, the girl’s face turned even more red and she hid in a corner by the bed.
She really does have the mannerism of a wimpy cat, always running with from anything. Letting a small sigh escape her, she took out a small brush and inspected her mechanical arm. The metal was stained a horrible red and it reeked of decay so she grabbed some dirty water and cleaned the metal. Something she makes a consistent effort to uphold is her hygiene and privacy even as she lives in an underground trench maze. Sometimes the suffocating walls of the tunnel and the crushing atmosphere would break her. The anxiety and fear of collapse would have her confined to her room curled up against the wall.
But life must go on, and the war won’t stop for such weakness. Opening the lamp her mechanical arm snuffed the flame out. The room was dark and now empty, the temperature rapidly dropping. Closing her eyelids she started trying to sleep. Trying to lull herself into a dream like trance.
A feeling of not feeling.
But it doesn’t work, the feeling of someone, a body a person, a thing close by. Slowly approaching where she was. Maybe it could be one of the tunnel horrors, climbing, skittering, bleeding, or maybe it could be an emerging bloodlusting being. Taking off her gas mask, she finally takes a breath. A sigh of relief as air enters and exits. She still felt something nearby, as if someone was moving around…
9
The walls felt crushing as the walls, she could hear everything inside the tunnels. The screams of mutated wolf rats and the yelling of the patrols. The artillery rang throughout her ears as the flesh-artillery stuck the trench. The night was long and she couldn’t see any end to the eternal booming of artillery. Each time the artillery struck she winced ever so slightly.
Her captor was sleeping on a mattress. The mattress had a small plush next to a small match lit lamp. The room was otherwise empty, ignoring the ground, which was covered in stone tiles. Most likely either scavenged from homes behind lines or maybe an addition from the last person.
Her heart was still rushing from what her captor had done in response to her when she was trying to escape into the undertrenches. Which was, now upon further thought, a death sentence. But still, who was her captor to do that to her. Still her captor was far more lenient from the other people that had kidnapped her before. Not giving her any restraints or even gagging her.
But where would she go?
Even if she escaped the room she would have to get past her sleeping captor, then the regular guards. And then she would have to get past those robot thingies. Their bodies looked as if someone sewed skin and flesh onto a robot carapace. They would probably detect her before the moment they left the room. If she went out through the undertunnels she would get killed by the horrors in the under trenches or die of starvation as she gets trapped under the endless labyrinth of tunnels. If she tried to run up and past the trenches and into blues territory she would have to sneak her way past machines trained to see any form of motion. Then she would have to get a fake passport in the blue country. But going back to the greater empire would be far worse, she would get ground up in the gene rippers or taken back to that officers room.
She trembled at the thought, and then touched her lips. She also didn’t really want to remember or even what happened. It was too confusing for her to think about it now. Why did her captor choose to hold her hand in the dark tunnels? Why did she–
There was a small noise, not one of the normal noises. Something from a thing beyond guns and artillery. It was a deep rumbling sound as the room started shaking and turning. The small plush toppled over, and the lantern shook. And then.
Then there was nothing.
The walls began speaking again as the people in the trenches stirred. Her captor, not even flinching from the rumbling as they slept on. Taking a deep breath in, she filled her lungs, drowning out the noises, the screaming of the mechanical and the singing of troops. Her eyes slowly close as she finally falls asleep.
She felt a dull light fill the room as her captor waved it around her face. Her captor’s face was almost in front of her as she coiled back, her heart racing as she remembered the tunnels. Looking into her captors' goggles on the gas mask she tried to find out who was behind the mask. However, the tinted glass gave no identity for who was behind the mask.
Her captor motioned at her to follow as they holstered a weapon. What looked like a small hand pistol from what she could see but with a glowing blue light reaching out of the sides burnt with an uneasy heat. They walked through the hallway as they reached a large room. The room’s nourishing smell hit her like a wave as a massive gathering of people stumbled and marched through. Their organized mass assembled in front of a big pot of---food? The people slowly organized into lines and started collecting their soup and rations. It was a magical spectacle of people, standing in lines grabbing their food that was missing the ever present stench of arms and ‘recycled’ body parts. She turned around, only to find a myriad of unknown faces and confused stares. Where are they? Where is her captor? The crowd was more lively now, pushing and shoving her around as the men, thralls, and augmented people brushed past her. Each with their own assigned task, they moved in synchronized patterns. Each of them completed well remembered patterns as they began moving out. Lost inside the crowd she stumbled blindly through the room like a lost cat. She could hear voices and eyes speaking all over as she stumbled through the mass of people.
Then she felt a tug as a hand reached out and pulled her. Panicking, she stumbled and tripped. Her fall was cushioned by her captor as she turned red from embarrassment. She got up flinching as she expected some form of repercussion. Only for her captor to simply stumble up and hold her hand as it guided her towards the rations deposit. The room starts to empty as people leave to do the rest of their jobs and maintenance. She quietly squeezed their hand as it guided her towards the ration depository. Her captor then spoke to the machine next to the soup pot in a strange language of white noise. Then the machine grabbed two bowls and poured out servings of the soup, handing on to her captor and giving it to her. She grabbed the bowl and watched her captor signal/point at a table where they could sit. There was an awkward silence as she sat down. Grabbing a spoon she drank some of the broth, carefully trying to not burn herself. The liquid was soothing and relaxing as she drank the liquid. There were chunks of potatoes and random vegetables she didn’t even recognize. Looking across the table she saw her captor, their robed body hiding all defining traits and an abnormal affinity to glass masks. Her masked captor stood their eating as they sat.
The room was still full of infantry, talking, speaking, gossiping, and resting troops. The small tunnel like cafateria was closed and silent by the time they finished. Mostly because she had many servings, mostly to prepare if food runs dry like it has many other times in the trenches.
Her captor then got up, signaling for her to also get up. They walked through a mazelike series of tunnels until her captor turned and entered a room. The room was filled with metal things and other spinning metal sprockets. The air smelled of hot metal and PCB as metal parts were welded onto wounded and injured. Her captor walked next to a tall figure, scars winding up and down his body. They spoke a bit about something. Something in their strange language of static. Then her captor called her over by signalling with her hands. The Man then spoke into a radio and left. They followed him along with a growing group of armed soldiers. Around 50ish soldiers, 35 humanoid metal thingies, and some scary hulking metal things. They passed many machine gun nests and guards armed with flamethrowers and rifles. The damp and shadowing tunnels then followed. The dark, moldy air filled her lungs like a familiar friend from the cities, but less death and more mold. The tunnels echoed with hisses and death rattles, a frightening feeling, but then again, it's thanks to her mutated ears that she could hear the voices from far away. The earth reeked of blood and melting flesh as the soldiers put on their gas masks.
shoot…
She doesn’t have a gas mask. The slow, creeping fog whispers and moans as it approaches. The stench of death whispers down with the gas, its whispers following as the world spins. The light started to fade in her eyes as the fog grew ever closer, muddying her mind. Her ears twitched as she felt hands behind her head as a gas mask slipped onto her head. The hands wrapped around her neck to her waist as her captor held onto her. The man turned around and made a small quip in the white noise language as they walked through the labyrinth of tunnels. Until they met a patrol of 24 soldiers. Their bodies gave off the same sounds and voices. Not even the personality quirks of the mechanical humanoid things. Clinging onto the arms around her she tried to sink backwards. The group of men were inhuman but human, they all breathed at the same time, looked at the same thing and moved in the same direction. The captain of the other patrol looked down upon the group as they slunk forward.
What followed was pandemonium as every tech thrall began firing as the rest of the group raised their guns. The other patrol’s captain’s body thudded to the ground as a head rose behind. The head rushed forward as the rest of the other patrol shed their bodies and the puppeteers moved forward. A grotesque mass of arms and limbs sticking out with heads attached by long necks. The heads were like skin on bones, bloodied and dripping with gore. It’s arms grasping and tearing through the people as the unlucky ones closest were torn apart.
The plasma burnt through the heads as the mass of flesh contracted and stretched as the creature melted away. The awful sight was quite too much for her to behold as the blood and gore of twenty men were splattered over the ground. Leaning more backwards into her captor, she tried her best to hide from the slaughter.
The unsightly skittering of limbs far away unsettled her as the sound seemingly started to surround them. The others also seemed to notice as the skittering moved slowly around their location, and then stopped. The group started moving in the opposite direction towards home as the captain and her captor conversed in static. The skittering noise was now coming from the back, the waddling footsteps of a thing. They reached the entrance to the trench complex, passing by the guards and mounted flamethrowers. She breathed a slow sigh of relief as the doors behind her closed. But the slinking feeling still continued behind her, as if a creature, nothing was following, stalking from behind.
She didn’t expect to spend her evening with the girl hiding behind her as a really fat cat approached her, but then again, one can’t really plan for cats. They show up from nowhere and cause the most trivial problems. Looking back at the girl, who was holding their tail quivering as the cat playfully batted at the poor thing like it was a fluffy cat toy.
If this were back at home, it would be quite amusing, but here? The sight of a person resembling a cat being scared of a cat was far too amusing.
Still, the girl is her responsibility.
Walking over to the cat, she grabbed it by the neck and let it go outside the room. Closing the door, she turned around.
The cat was still there.
It was almost as if it squeezed through the vents. She wondered where the hole inside her room was that could be allowing these fluffy little rascals into her room. Looking back at the girl, she couldn’t stop herself. She picked up the cat as it meowed and held it in front of the girl, who backed away some more. Pulling the cat closer, she sat down on the bed while petting the cat. The cat’s tail swayed back and forth as it purred and curled up on her lap.
The girl then sat down on the other side of the room, their ears lowering as she leaned against the wall. Getting up from her bed she walked up to the girl and sat next to her. The girl looked sad, her droopy ears and sad face. Like a sad little cat, the girl held up against the wall. Say something, she thought, Say something to convince yourself, to make her feel better. To ease her from the life tearing, loss and change of losing one's home.
Being taken from one's home.
But she could not speak.
Like anchors, the weights of her home dug and tore at her mouth, dragging, commanding, tearing her mouth shut. Instead, she got herself up and awkwardly walked back to her bed. The cold air flows through the trench tunnels. The freezing air slowly climbs, dragging itself through the tunnels.
The sound of gunfire sang its cold lullaby as trench-holders smoked and drew their cards. Taking off her helmet, she cautiously put herself to sleep. The thin blanket warding off the freezing mist from below.
She struggled to get up.
The girl had found her way into the bed, hugging and attaching themself against her. She pulled back a bit, covering her face in her hands before realizing that the girl was asleep. She sighed a small breath of embarrassed relief before slipping her gas-helmet on. She tried to peel off the girl's arms from her waist, but the girl stayed there. She decided that it wouldn’t be worth it to peel her off.
She quickly had breakfast and walked out of the mess hall to avoid confronting anyone she knew. Or higher-ups.
She walked down towards the robotics hall, where multiple people were working the saw mills and recycling tools for the front. She passed some people who gave mixed expressions of surprise, confusion, and others who didn’t notice. She passed them as she went down the stairs, deeper into the fortifications. There was a small locker down here. It contained her stuff from before she was sent here. She opened it, the alien scent of familiar clothes and things. She took out a small cat toy and closed the locker. Making sure to lock it as she left.
Back in her room, she tried to pry the girl off, but it still didn’t work. She sat down on her bed. She looked closely at the girl, her feline-like ears looked like a cat. Maybe she could pet the girl, maybe, maybe…
The girl woke up though, to her disappointment. It pushed itself away with an embarrassed expression on her face. She sighed as she walked towards the doorway. It was her turn to stand guard by the secondary machine gun nests with her tech thralls.
The grey cat followed her as it meandered and batted at the cat toy that she had attached to her backpack.
The machine gun nest was manned by a few thralls and a supervisor. The supervisor turned around and left as she came, silently signifying her turn at watch. Where she spent most of her time playing with the cat. But as long as no one finds her like this she’d be fine.
The worst part about this guard post was the waiting Kat decided. The slow monotony was waiting for something to leave the safety of the shadows. She pet the cat as it curled up beside her. In the few days that it has been here, it has grown in weight and size. Still, though it could jump onto her shoulder and sleep there. She sighed as the creatures in the shadows lurked and shifted.
The cold air seeped into the room as she sat their alone. There was no one guarding the door but she knew that if she left there was no disguise that would hide her from the others. Still though she was curious what the rest of the place looked like. Since, she could probably hear the sentries beforehand so she could easily avoid being caught.
She slunk out of the door just as the sentry passed by, making sure to conceal her footsteps as she tiptoed down the hallway. The quiet yet tense breeze of air came from below. She spotted some thralls rushing downward, deeper into the trenches as muffled cries echoed from below.
Against her better judgment, she followed them below, snatching a helmet to hide her ears. The tunnel went down for an impossible amount as they quick-marched down the hall. The cold air chilled her to the bone as the freezing temps were the only thing that greeted her in the dimly lit corridors. The Thralls finally turned the corner into the room that had S.A.Y. There below was a thrashing machine, its rasping breath and ragged breathing filled the room, grabbing hold of many of the armed soldiers and lab assistants. The machine thrashed and screamed, its shrieking screams felt a dozenfold by her ears.
The machine had flayed skin wreathed upon its body, as if it were wearing it like a costume. The thing skittered and dragged itself, its body so worn down and broken it couldn’t even stand. She slowly slunk out of the room before sneaking off from the doom from below.
She found herself back inside the room, but this time cemented in place due to fear.
It has been a day since the incident in the laboratory. It would be noted on as the of Gex. Gex was a mad scientist-like person. Yet Gex revolutionized the artillery engines, using human parts to increase the lifespans of the machines. However, he met his end deep in the laboratory of the person in charge of Project Say.
She stifled a small laugh as her mind wandered. But then it wandered back to the girl whom she wanted to pet like a cat. She shook her head as if trying to banish those thoughts, for it was unprofessional of a person of her rank and duty to do such things. (under the supervision of others)
She was walking with the girl down the hall towards the cafeteria, where there was a sudden cheer from the robotics lab. A skinny person, some scrawny thing he was, was holding a small box with a display panel and–
She focused her gaze upon the box he held.
Was that a TV?
She got closer. It was in fact a screen in a strange metal box. It was grey and white and making error signs. Then it came to life, depicting a cartoon show on the broadcast.
The group was sitting there watching the box as the colors on the box changed and moved. It was a nice escape for the soldiers, and were moved into the mess hall.
The grey cat was now following her, towards the mess hall. The hall was more alive, there was great relief coming off the soldiers. But there was also a great sense of fear as the troops ate their food.
She looked for someone to interrogate about this, hopefully the captain; who knows his troops like the back of his palm.
“Captain”
“Yes?”, the captain said.
“Why are the soldiers acting like-”, She waved her hand in the area in the mess hall, “that?”
“Well, we got access to the media”
“And?”
“Well they are happy to see the news at home, but some are distraught at the outer township sieges.”
“Is this just the occasional warbands of marauders that manifest themselves, or is it an organized force?”
“Organized”, the Captain said with a more solemn voice, “They are the arms of the Magos Confederation.”
“You sure?” She said nervously, swapping from the white noise language to her regular voice. If it were the Magos, then the amount of damage done would be devastating. She had heard stories of the Magos’ counteroffenses, leaving entire villages empty.
“I hope not, but it seems to be them.”
“Then let's hope not.” Her voice was half trembling and half wavering.
The mess hall felt bigger, the walls stretching and turning. Her breaths were becoming shorter, and she could feel herself shrinking away. She left the Captain alone to their troops as she felt the uncertainty drill into her.
She was storming towards one of the ladders that ascended to the upper areas of the complex; the trenches. She climbed up the ladder, poking her head above the trench. She poked her head over the trench, taking in the openness of the field. Bullets whizzed around her, threatening to end her where she stood. Yet she still stood there, letting herself slowly calm down. There was a sizable number of soldiers sitting in the trench, aiming down the massive field. They took potshots at some distant foe every few minutes, exchanging minor amounts of banter. She could see groups of Thralls and their overseers digging new trenches forward, their entrenchment tools knocking bits of earth loose.
The low thunder of artillery thumped like percussion as bright glowing dots arched over the sky and into the other side of the field. There was someone manning a flak cannon, aiming it down into the opposing trenches. Each shot causes a red flower to bloom in the other lines, each artillery shot, a pillar of dirt. She let the gunpowder-filled air soak into her lungs, and then she let it disperse.
“Welp, I guess I'd better get back down there,” She said to no one but herself. After all, the trenches wouldn’t fight themselves, the artillery wouldn’t fix itself, and the war wouldn’t fight itself.
Nine stared at the small thing across from her in the room. It looked like one of the sewer rats that populated the lower levels of the massive cities that she used to live in. However, the creature was more docile than the vicious rodents that gnawed through her mother's bones. The thing was staring at her, its tail lined with fluff, flipping back and forth.
It was a boring existence. Ever since that day in the tunnels, she has been spending her entire time just sitting around. Maybe now and then her captor would take her to one of the artillery pieces as she fixed the machines. To be honest, she would have called her captor something else, but her captor never really provided a name. Or spoke in a language that she could understand, other than basic gestures and hand signals.
It was a long hour or two before she was brought down to one of the artillery holes. The winter months were soon arriving, making the artillery guns freeze slightly. The lubricant is used to turn the gun up and down and side to side, but it has frozen over. Her captor was searching through one of the cabinets near the artillery piece, looking for some obscure tool while she was sitting on one of the ammo racks.
She looked at the girl searching the supply cabinet and then at the sky. The artillery was closer, louder, the thundering becons of the howitzers ringing through her ears. The sound was deafening, and each shell launched panged in her ears, ringing against the inside of her ears.
She looked around the entrenched artillery nest, her eyes pouncing on a supply closet. Maybe if she went inside there, the loud thundering of the artillery would hurt her ears less. She looked back at her captor, who was still rifling through the cabinet.
Since it's going to be a long time until she starts repairing.
She slowly slid into the supply closet, and the walls were lined with shelves filled with components. The door closed behind her, eeking out the last bit of light coming from the outside. There was a small ladder off to the side of the closet.
She sat down on the ladder; however, there was something on the ground near the ladder. She reached down, grabbing the object; it was an old thing. The barrel was rusted on the outside; it was a handgun. It had a single shot in it and looked as if it would be more useful as a small bat than a gun. The side of the barrel had the words “emergency door opener” on it.
Who would need that?
She slowly turned her head at the door… It was closed, but there seemed to be no lock on the door.
Interesting
Suddenly, there was a rat, squirming and crawling out of the side of the closet. Nine took no time jumping off to the top of the ladder, the rat’s red eyes glowed iridescently in the dark room. The rat crawled onto the ladder dodging Nine's leg as she kicked at it. The vermin sunk its teeth into her tail clinging.
The door clicked open as someone emerged, the quiet inhaling and exhaling of someone strode into the room. The individual was wearing a gas mask and a trench coat. The dim light from outside slowly shone off the gas mask's soulless eyes.
She kicked the ravenous rodent off her tail. Finally, the rat slinked back into the shadows under one of the storage shelves.
“Phht, I thought that rats were scared of cats.” Her captor said, looking at Nine.
“Y-you can speak?”
“...”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, you don’t really talk that much.”
“I do! You just don’t speak binary.” Her captor responded.
“That doesn’t make things better either”
Her captor turned around, “Well, I’m done repairing the cannon, lets go get food.”
Click
The door rattled as her captor struggled to pull open the door. Finally, using their third mechanical arm, they pulled at the handle.
Crunch
“Hey, do you happen to have your gun with you?” Nine said, “You could probably open the door.”
“No, I didn’t think I would need a gun to repair a cannon.” The gas-masked individual said, their voice steeled.
Nine felt the gun in her pocket, its rusted exterior nicking her middle finger.
“Does this work?”
“You mean that rusted pipe?”
“It says it's a door opener.”
“...use it if you want, just don’t blow your arm off. Old tech has a tendency to be too strong or just malfunction.”
Boom!
The Door opener blew up in her hand, its structure imploding on itself, sending parts of itself flying harmlessly into the air.
“Well, you’re lucky, was that one of your nine lives?”
“Well, why don’t you do something?!”
“I already did.”
“So are we just going to starve in here?”
“We’ll just wait for the artillery crews to find us tomorrow.”
“By then, we’ll be dead! Do you really think that someone would care enough to save us before we starve!”
“Calm down, I’m sure that someone will find us. The artillery crews work nonstop, firing shells over no man's land. If this were a storm cannon, then things would be different.” Her captor said, “We’ll be fine.”
The cold breeze swept into the closet as a small rodent skittered away under one of the shelves. The room was small, and the sky was beginning to darken as the sun dipped under the polluted clouds and scorched earth. The light coming into the room was slowly dwindling as cold air began to fill the trench system, the misty fog dragging itself, pulling, clawing up from the undertrenches.
Nine was sitting opposite her captor, the light slowly being suffocated out of the air. However, she could still see through the clouded mist that slid in through the cracks of the door. The fog covered the ground, freezing and gnawing at her ankles. She looked at her apparel, an old shirt and skirt she had found among the corpse piles before enlisting. The cold air practically went through her clothes as they did little to protect her from the freezing temperatures.
She plopped herself onto the floor and began pulling her legs close to her chest in an effort not to freeze to death. However, the floor was frigid, and upon closer inspection, the rodent from earlier was now nothing but a frozen meal.
Her captor was leaning against the shelf, its body still like a corpse. She could not even tell if they were breathing or not. She slowly reached out with her finger, shivering as the cold air bit into her skin.
“Poke”
She had pressed her finger against her captor's gas mask’s cheek. Her finger made a small indent on the mask as she pressed into it.
“Hey, are you there?”
Poke, poke, poke.
She looked at the person, who seemed to be sleeping…
Poke, poke, poke
“Helloo, anyone in there?” Nine nagged, still poking at the person's cheek.
“...” Her captor batted her hand away like an annoyed cat, leaning more against the ladder again.
Poke
“...”
“Can you at least tell me your name?”
“It’s Kat”
“I’m Nine.”
“Like the number?”
“Y-yeah”
“Were you the ninth child, or like did your parents like the number nine?”
“I didn’t know my parents”
The air between them began to stretch again, as they stood silent. Frost began to go in between the hairs in her tail, her legs began to lose feeling. She brushed her tail off, wincing as the cold shards of ice landed on her skin.
“Hey, nine. Mind getting closer to me.”
?
Nine slowly stepped towards Kats' position by the ladder. Feeling goosebumps, she continued, almost tripping over the frosted rat. She could make out her capt-Kat’s form in the darkness.
“Can you close your eyes?”
“W-why?”
“Just do it.”
Nine closed her eyes as the sounds from around became louder. The regular thumping of the artillery launching, the grinding sound of bonesaws going through arms, the undoing of one's buttons, the persistent thumping of something nearby.
Then she felt a wild shock, the sudden feeling of being enveloped, the feeling of warm air encircling her. She heard the buttons getting redone as she was slightly pressed against something warm.
“You’re freezing.”
Nine stayed silent, opening her eyes, she could hear her own heart bursting out of her chest. She couldn’t see anything; the light had long been drowned out. She could feel her face heating up as Kat began playing with her hair.
What is this feeling?
“She’s asleep”
Kat stared at the captain, who also stared at her.
“...”
“She won’t let go.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Just make sure that you get to sleep at a reasonable time.”
“You’re not my mom.”
“I’m a guy.”
“That was-I know, I have access to your file.”
“I’m going to sleep”
“Oh, also Scratfeld wanted to ask you abo-”
“If he wanted to ask about that, then he should do it himself.”
“Okay, also, you got night watch tomorrow.”
She shot him a nasty look. The dark recesses of the undertrenches hold many hidden horrors that live deep underground and only wander up at night. There were experiments done with these mutants; nailing them against the wall to see what would happen if they didn’t return to their recess by morning. It only took a few minutes for the creature to croak, but hours to die.
She went into her room that night, trying to pry off Nine, who was somewhat wrapped around her waist under her coat. Slowly running her hand through her soft hair.
What happened?
Nine grogedly opened her eyes pressed against a blanket. She felt a warm feeling from behind her and two arms wrapped around her waist. Slowly she tried to pull herself out of the bed but the arms wrapped around her waist felt too heavy, and also it felt too cozy.
Storyboard
Curiosity almost killed the Nine
Night watch
Philtron-ego, lusts over a character…nine cats, 1 flower, a steel cage, rats. Rats? crazy?...Crazy i wazs once that, they locked me in a room a rubber room, a rubber room with rats, the rats made me crazy. Crazy i was once that the ratz msde me crazy. CrazyIwasoncethattheylockedmeinaroomarubberroomarubberroomofratsOhtheratsrattedmecrazythedoorsdon’topeninpowertheyartstrengthoftheblindunseenartprowseletthelightreveal.
Scratfield-
Nine
Kat
“Hello?”
A shining ray of light pierced into the room where the supposed night watch squad #44 was sleeping. The tired eyes of Scratfields searched the room for the lazy kids. No one in the battalion could match his age as he walked on a limp. Minus of course the tech cultists who live impossibly long through integration with one of the machines. It always unsettled him whenever he saw one of those things.
The Captain had informed him that his replacement squadmates would be Kat and Nine along with Philtron. He laughed at the idea, and even so more after reading through their records. First up was Kat, who seemed formidable yet too young for such a role. The squad would be on the very farthest reach, far too distant for a person of her age. Philtron’s record was spotless, with many recommendations from commanding officers while also coming from a wealthy background. His record smelled of money, and there was a redacted part near the end. Where he harassed an officer of far greater rank than he. Makes one wonder how many he harassed before choosing the wrong victim. However, that was pale in comparison to the last entry, which was a girl named Nine, one of the cursed mutants.
Mutants that should have died at birth rather than curse the lands alive. He could feel their mutations, a horrible disgusting thing that dares attempts to imitate his humanity? Yet he could feel a small bit of pity, for the creature was under the supervision of Kat, a junior tech cultist. Most definitely partaking in the most gruesome of experiments, subjecting it to horrors that only the most evil of criminals face. Yet it is what the greatest of the state's enemies deserve.
The door creaked open as he shined a light into it, illuminating two people sharing a bed. No, it was just Kat and Nine dozing off.
To say Scratfield was aggravated would be an understatement but he hid it well. Something one learns in the presence of the tech cultist is that any foot soldier(him) can and will be turned into a tech-thrall. A fate far worse than eternal damnation.
But then he thought about it more, sleeping in the same bed as the mutant would mean that if said mutant committed a form of treachery then Kat would be able to rapidly release the thing from the sufferings of life.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe I have underestimated your capabilities Kat.
