Chapter Text
The room was silent, broken only by the hum of the fans circulating warm air throughout the bunker.
Click
And suddenly all the lights went out, eliciting gasps of surprise from everyone around. Someone was about to say something, but then a distinctive "shhh" sound was heard. A couple of lamps on the walls continued to provide a dim, weak light, preventing the room from being completely plunged into darkness.
At the touch of a button, light would shine through a specially prepared frame, followed by an intriguing drumbeat. Harsh, yet melodic:
Knock-knock; knock-knock-knock—the melody repeated itself over and over, becoming increasingly distinct with each repetition. This continued until a shadow appeared on stage—small, the size of a doll, wearing a tiny, long dress that completely covered her legs.
The crowd roared jubilantly, someone even squealed, but they were cut off again. Waiting until complete silence, the doll began its story:
«Когда-то нелюди были свободным народом, но однажды…» Внезапно две куклы поменьше окружили куклу. Они медленно, крадучись двинулись к ней. «Люди напали на нас!» Раздался тревожный барабанный бой, и на сцене началось настоящее представление: кукла боролась, отбивалась, бежала, но ничто не могло её спасти. «Их было так много, что мы не справились, и они схватили нас, заставили работать на них». Кукла медленно опускалась, а куклы поднимались всё выше и выше. «Но кто бы мог подумать, что на нашу планету опустится вечная мерзлота!» Сверху появились облака, поддерживаемые палками и шагающие с хадуном. «И они заморозят всех людей!» Радостные крики раздавались из каждой щели, когда куклы наконец упали.
«Но почему мы тогда здесь сидим?» — раздался тихий голос, и маленький мальчик быстро его остановил. Однако на несколько мгновений воцарилась тишина.
«Потому что они пришли…» Кукла исчезла вместе со сценой, и свет осветил почти половину зала. Внутри, под барабанный бой, снизу начали подниматься огромные, зловещие фигуры. «Посланные человечеством, чтобы уничтожить нас…» Они поднимались всё выше и выше, и музыка становилась всё более зловещей. «Ужасающие, кровожадные убийцы…» Фигуры становились всё чётче, словно обретая демонические черты: скрюченные тела, искажённые лица, неловкие позы. «И имя им…»
"Dismantlers." Suddenly, a voice far from a child's could be heard from across the room. Silence fell; no one understood anything, and the unexpected interlocutor seemed to be wandering somewhere in the darkness.
The light switch clicked again—and everyone jumped: the children sitting near the mini-stage and the doll cowered in fear, glancing at the entrance. The teacher, who had been sitting behind the younger children all this time, dropped the dismantler models with a crash and stood in the middle of the room with an unsteady but quick gait.
Everyone's attention quickly shifted to the dismantler, standing somewhere near the wall. A little further away stood a second woman with two long ponytails on her head. As if indifferent, she looked away, her gaze unreadable and seemingly directed somewhere through the walls of the bunker.
She fell silent, glancing at the children, then turned her gaze to dismantler, who was watching the teacher with feline precision. The victim's eyes seemed to transform into two large moons of terror. The children watched the scene with interest and bewilderment, when one of them, the most restless and talkative, finally asked:
"Miss Azumi, are these the dismantlers?" The quiet voice sounded more amusement than fear.
There was no answer; the teacher stared at them silently, her gaze darting from side to side, as if frantically trying to force herself to think.
"Mmm..." That short sound seemed to be the signal for the dismantler, who, claws unsheathed, pounced on Azumi, pressing those dangerous blades right to her neck. She sighed, trying to speak calmly, but her voice trembled convulsively. "Absolutely not!" To the puzzled looks of those around her, the teacher continued, "It's just a game to see how you'll behave! You lost! But I won't say anything if you, you..."She felt herself suffocating as a razor-sharp claw slowly dug into her neck. "If you run away and tell the others 'code red,' you win!"
Silence fell. And the next second, the air filled with children's screams, the joy of freedom. Pushing and laughing, the children ran out of the hall in a friendly, slightly wild crowd, followed by the older ones. A dismantler with tails standing nearby extended his hand to them, but it didn't reach.
"Funny game, huh?" asked another huntress in a wild, sadistic tone, lifting Azumi.
The next second, the walls of the hall erupted in terrifying laughter, and the body that had just been breathing suddenly went limp.
The Nonhuman, clearing his throat slightly and turning away from the bright light, turned on his radio as a wave of children passed by, and laughter echoed from the kindergarten room.
"Code Red, need a squad, do you copy? Repeat, code..." He gave a sharp, hoarse breath, and the radio fell and instantly shattered.
"We don't need this!" the Destroyer swung her tail mockingly, decapitating her second victim of the day with a single swing of her fearsome katana.
A smile, unnatural for an Nonhuman, spread across her face as the body fell limply to the floor. Her ringing laughter pierced everyone's ears—oh no, no one would leave here alive, at least not with her!
While the first one darted back and forth, killing everyone in sight, the second one, frozen, surveyed the area, ready to cleave any passerby with one deadly lunge.
Blood dripped from her claws—her first kill of the day. The Destroyer approached a chestnut-haired girl of about sixteen and loomed silently over her. She trembled, her eyes closed in anticipation of her imminent death, while the huntress stood like a statue, her clawed hand raised but motionless.
It was unknown what would have happened next if not for a piercing roar that deafened everyone around her. Before the Destroyer could react, an unknown beam struck her—she only sighed in surprise.
A blinding flash of light illuminated the entire room, forcing everyone present to close their eyes. And when the light faded, half a lifeless body lay on the floor: all that remained of the huntress.
The second Destroyer, who had just grabbed the young man and was painfully strangling him, froze. Turning, she shuddered slightly and, throwing off her victim, spread her wings and soared into the air.
In an instant, she was gone. A truly deathly, mournful silence reigned, broken only by the boy's desperate coughing, trying to catch his breath.
"Thad!" a girl with the same blond hair approached him, concerned. "Are you okay?"
Silence reigned. Ted leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, hunched over. He was shaking from head to toe, his breathing ragged, curled into a ball of despair, inhaling and exhaling convulsively.
"A sad, but entirely justifiable image," flashed through Uzi's mind as she watched. She stroked the still-hot railgun, which had just fired for the first time—everything had gone according to plan.
Now the dismantler was dead, and there shouldn't be any problems, at least for some of them. Dorman looked around warily and hesitantly stepped aside, practically sliding toward the corridor exit.
The next moment, soldiers burst in from another passageway, their intense gazes furrowed as they tried to analyze the situation.
"Sir..." one of them said incredulously. "The second one in our lifetime. Code gray."
He whispered the last words, lowering the radio and not taking his eyes off the dismantler's body. Meanwhile, Uzi was forced to retreat from the entrance as people, now mere onlookers, poured in.
Okay, she had to go, and quickly! She tightened her grip on the railgun and rushed toward the exit, but before she could even step out the door, she was intercepted. Dorman flinched at the stranger's touch and opened her eyes, glaring at the intruder.
It was Maya. Ugh, just an overly loud guy, recently transferred from delivery to security. A rather abrupt move, but probably justified.
"You... shot the dismantler with that... that gun?" he asked, fascinated, still holding her hand, which infuriated her. They weren't close enough for that!
Uzi stared at him silently, unsure whether he was being silly or joking, but with a characteristic click of her tongue, she reluctantly nodded:
"Yes."
"Listen!" he suddenly shouted, startling her. All eyes turned to the two of them. "She, Uzi Doorman, killed the dismantler!"
The crowd of nonhumans gasped in admiration and began to approach, rejoicing, congratulating, and praising.
"No wonder they called her father the Bomber Killer!"
"Uzi, you really did that??"
"I can't believe it!"
Doorman hunched over like a taut string, trying to retreat and fighting the nervousness caused by the nonhumans' persistence. At one point—at the climax—she abruptly and angrily pulled her hand back, jumped up, and ran toward her and her father.
Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, and Uzi glanced around paranoidly, as if afraid the crowd was right behind her. She needed to get to her cozy little corner, and then, then!..
Finally, she entered and, with one last glance, closed the door behind her. Uzi finally took a deep breath and simply sat down on the floor. She needed to do something to get back to her previous state.
Her gaze fell on the hanging outerwear. Doorman seemed to have never worn it, having lost count of the last times she'd left the bunker. No wonder — try sticking your nose out of a place where you're about to be eaten without suffocating.
Although there must have been something else that kept her from leaving for so long. But the memory of that was complicated. Well, screw it.
Doorman quickly stood up and hurriedly pulled on her outerwear, including the spring-loaded hood, hurrying to the exit — it was time to put an end to this thing!
She ran through the corridors until a huge iron door appeared before her—easy as pie, just a keycard. Guards stood there, looking at her in confusion, but asking no questions.
A couple more similar doors, more guards, and then there it was—the thickest and most frozen door of them all. Which, by the way, was already on the verge of closing, with a handful of guards watching over it all.
Well, Uzi knew how to take control of the situation — she rushed to the door like a whirlwind and, amid the indignant cries and resistance of the workers, crouched down and slipped through the doorway at the very last moment.
The door slammed shut, separating her from the others. Before Doorman could take a step, an icy wind whipped her painfully across the face. After the warm bunker, it was especially noticeable.
She struggled through the wide snowdrifts, occasionally stumbling upon small holes dug by animals. The ground in them was hard as stone, and the only vegetation was long-withered dry branches. Everything that had once been alive here was now forever dead. She sighed, straightened up to her full height and walked faster.
Her blood boiled, fear and determination mingled in a merciless mess, dizzying her and driving her blindly forward, seeking adventure and danger. Something she'd likely never experienced now erupted violently to the surface.
This is dangerous, reckless, and short-sighted—thoughts raced through Doorman's mind, but to no avail. She wanted to kill this monster, and she would do it, no matter the cost.
Uzi paused for a moment and looked warmly at her railgun—perfect, crafted to the last thread according to her mother's designs. She smiled softly, momentarily forgetting herself, and tenderly stroked the metal.
Which her mother should have made, not her.
The flood of memories again tore Doorman's nerves from her body. She would take revenge, avenge everyone, avenge her mother! Her heart burned with resentment for those who had perished at the hands of the dismantlers, for her mother. But the nonhumans were strong and independent; they would make the hunters pay!
Anger flared with renewed vigor, driving her to move even faster, more chaotically, and more unpredictably. Uzi's head spun, searching for the lurking monster. The snow crunched treacherously underfoot, and the forever-frozen trees stretched their thin, gnarled fingers toward the sky, looming over her.
In an instant, she was thrown aside, groaning and immediately trying to rise, her eyes wide open in confusion. In the darkness nearby, two yellow lights glowed brightly, scanning the area like animals. Two metal plates were clearly visible, and the branches above were moving unnaturally.
Damn, did that dismantler really knock her down with one landing?!
Doorman crouched, trying to move as slowly and quietly as possible. Luckily, she'd gripped the railgun tightly during the shockwave, so she still had it.
She took aim and aimed the weapon at the silhouette, praying it would hit. Her hands trembled slightly from the strain and probably from the cold. Right. One precise shot, and it was over. Without taking her eyes off the yellow light, she began blindly searching for the right button on the rail.
Finally, finding what she was looking for, she blinked and aimed again... Her breath caught in her throat. Panic was building somewhere inside her, her eyes widened.
The Dismantler was gone.
A second later, a gust of wind pierced her ears, and something long and thin gripped her leg tightly. Doorman felt the ground beneath her feet sway, the world upside down. Trying to break free seemed to only make things worse—she was thrown back.
She yelped painfully from the dull pain in the back of her head from hitting the tree, trying not to lose her head from the all-consuming anxiety. Her heart pounded harder with each blow, and her head throbbed. Uzi barely noticed a dark trickle of blood trickling from her lip, presumably from where she'd bitten her tongue.
In a fog of confusion, she tried to stand up, but kept slipping and sitting down again. She needed to stay calm and think clearly, but when Doorman felt his tall figure above her, her whole body trembled.
She wanted to jump up again and thrash around, gasping for air, but she barely opened her eyes, her hands shaking gently, and the railgun lay nearby.
"You're much weaker than you appear," the huntress giggled, smoothing out her tail, which she'd apparently used to grab Uzi. Something peeked out from under her sleeve... What was it? Whatever it was, it looked dangerous.
She slowly brought the device toward Uzi, chuckling briefly. Uzi gasped, pressing herself against the tree trunk, as if hoping it would save her. Her teeth were clenched, her lips pressed tightly together, and an animalistic fear flickered in her eyes. And then the weapon was so close to her chest.
Strike!
At the last moment, Doorman realized what she was doing and aimed the railgun. She closed her eyes and cringed, feeling a tingling sensation in her fingers and a soft cracking sound. Opening her eyes, not too optimistically, she saw her fingers twitching from the force of the blow.
It was a damn stun gun! And the dismantler seemed a little confused. Uzi, realizing she had to run, quickly slipped out from under the figure, leaving her precious weapon to fall into the snow.
Oh, if only it had survived... She ran toward the house, hoping he was there. After all, there was no particular reason for that—wandering through the woods when she was just a child was simply ridiculous.
Doorman smiled to herself: her mother had saved her. Even though she was far away, she had built the railgun! She was always close...
Looking back, Uzi almost squealed when she saw hunter aiming a pistol at her, the sight lit up by one of the many yellow lights on her head.
Trying to swerve or otherwise avoid a collision, Doorman slipped with a scream on the ice, hidden by a thin layer of snow. She landed face down and tried to get up, but fell again, like a fawn on ice. Her nose stung terribly, and when she briefly lifted her head above the ground, she saw black drops of blood streaming down her face.
Uzi realized the monster was close, and so, barely coming to her senses, she began desperately making last-ditch efforts to fight it off. Only by a miracle did she manage to crawl to a snow-covered spot and stand.
Having barely straightened up, she tried to jump away from the invisible threat, but pain pierced her stomach.
For a moment, it seemed as if all those vile insides of her body were about to burst out. A roaring sounded in her ears, and consciousness slowly began to leave her body.
A guttural scream erupted from her throat, and she began to shudder unconsciously, like hunted prey. Feeling as if something steel had been ripped out of her, Doorman fell to her knees. Every now and then, her eyes would open and see blood, lots of blood, mixing with her own tears.
"It's time to put an end to this," she heard the dismantler's voice somewhere on the edge of her consciousness.
Something touched her shoulder, and she felt herself slipping into... sleep? No, not sleep, sleep=death, sleep=death!!!! But it's so tempting... Nice... Hmm, maybe a little...
V winced as the wounded victim suddenly straightened with a loud, distinctive crunch. Something about the movements seemed familiar.
Without knowing why, the dismantler involuntarily retreated, an unknown fear compelling her to stay away from the inhuman. Something inside her clenched; she wanted the victim to scream, to fall, or simply do anything, so she could feel its essence. To understand that it was alive, and not standing with its back to her like a cold corpse.
And yet, at first, she was reluctant to simply abandon her prey. It wasn't so much hunger as the principle—she wanted to subdue this supposedly "unusual" rebel, to make it scream, to force it to eat her.
Forgotten instincts in the depths of the hunter's mind told her to devour it, but at the same time, they screamed at the top of their lungs: "Run." Run as fast as you can, seek shelter, hide.
She didn't understand what exactly was happening to her, but she could hear her own heartbeat—it knew and remembered. When the victim jerked sharply, turning his head in her direction, a chill ran down V's spine.
In the nonhuman's eyes, instead of pupils, a perfectly symmetrical figure appeared, from which three lines extended, like a triangle. The ends of the lines were like arrowheads.
No, this wasn't the victim anymore, this wasn't her...
This is it.
Memories flooded back, and she, nearly screaming from a new wave of overwhelming emotions, turned sharply and broke into a run—flying here was useless, she couldn't fly as fast as...
No matter! The Sorter raced through the snowdrifts like a tank, demolishing everything in its path, knowing exactly where she was going—this wasn't her first day here, and it wouldn't be her last. From time to time, she glanced back to check if anyone was following her, but not once did her two sensitive eyes and six other ever-living ones notice anything.
Perhaps It was still standing there? Perhaps It had gone home? V would have been only too glad to let It go home, even considering the loss of a potential meal. She would have choked on the little creature anyway.
Nevertheless, the Destroyer decided to run to the ship—just in case. She could lock herself in there; It might not get through the sturdy metal doors.
V felt a shuddering sigh of relief rise in her throat, escaping as a pleasant steam. She froze for a moment—a bare, treeless clearing was visible nearby. The Destroyers had cut everything down! She remembered how D...
The Destroyer jumped up abruptly, hearing a quiet chuckle somewhere above her, which began and died away. It was somewhere here, and It wasn't retreating.
Spitting and running, she kept running – stopping was a very bad idea, even considering there hadn't been anyone behind her before. The wind suddenly blew in her ears, but it felt wrong.
Turning around, V watched with growing horror as It was already inches away. The creature's newfound wings spread wide, allowing it to glide through the air.
The blow knocked the Destroyer off its feet, and she immediately tried to use her weapon – not so fast! It landed on her stomach and, with one merciless jerk, ripped the stinger from its tail. After a few deft turns, it sank into her neck with all its might, driving it deep.
V screamed gutturally and finally summoned her pistol, opening fire. The bullets flew in a furious stream, missing their target due to a lack of focus. Her vision blurred, and her pulse pounded wildly in her head.
Gathering her courage, the dismantler thrashed with all her might, like a wounded bird, emitting hoarse, incoherent sounds of despair. She barely understood what was happening, but primal fear was the last thing she could shake off.
Through the fog of her consciousness, having already stopped shooting, V saw the long claws on the entity's fingers unfurl, growing longer and sharper. Something was happening.
The nanite continued to spread across her neck, agonizingly slowly destroying the tissue, when she felt the clothing on her chest tear under the weight of the thinnest metal blades. V clenched her teeth and wheezed, her claws digging into the thin skin, leaving scratches on her chest, right there, near her heart, seeing no obstacles in their path.
They quickly exited, only to return just as quickly and move through the same area, gradually attempting to "dig" their way to the meat. The creature worked briskly, but the dismantler could clearly feel every ounce of pain as it sank deeper inside. She grimaced, still struggling feebly.
Her strength was leaving her body, breathing was becoming harder, she saw blood, lots of blood. V was slowly losing consciousness, barely seeing anything and unaware of what was happening, the line between reality and thought blurred, just like her life.
The dismantler didn't immediately realize she was no longer being tormented. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the muffled cries of a familiar voice, causing her body to jerk involuntarily, without really understanding why.
***
Khan straightened up, looking around, and saw her—she was flying toward him, clearly out of control. But it wasn't that that bothered him so much as the amount of dark liquid on her.
Uzi raced toward the man at record speed, but he didn't even blink, catching only the glint of her claws, barely visible against the blood. Even as she attempted to knock him down with a single lunge, he didn't lose his composure.
Slightly swaying but not giving in, Khan calmly grabbed his daughter by both arms, instantly immobilizing her and shaking her lightly.
“Uzi...” he said dispassionately, pressing the flashlight to his chest.
The doorman's wildly pounding heart began to gradually come to its senses, her trembling limbs dropped.
"Daddy...?" Uzi croaked, her whole body aching as if she'd been driving all night. She raised her head briefly, but then, exhausted, lowered it and asked in a choked voice, "What... happened?"
“It doesn’t matter now,” Khan replied sullenly, but deep down he was kind and did not look down on his daughter.
The doormen muttered something unintelligible and allowed her father to carry her, until she finally went limp and surrendered to the all-consuming embrace of darkness.