JULY 5TH, 2133
She woke up.
Breathing heavy.
Lungs weighed down.
A white light stabbed her eyes.
She tried to move.
Arms.
Legs.
Nothing.
Nanometal shackled her bloody body,
aching all over.
Cuts.
Bruises.
Pain in places she didn't even remember having flesh.
What the fuck happened?
"Eighth day:
Subject 86 is awake.
Vitals stable."
The voice cut through the air—
firm, professional, distant.
"We'll begin the EY-Link implant procedure."
Footsteps echoed.
A doctor paced the space,
dark hair tied in a tight bun,
features rigid,
cold.
"The ocular nanotech contains one billion nanites,
linked to all nano-weapons.
It's updated daily by the Una AI."
An android recorded everything.
"We will remove the biochip from Subject 86.
Configure the EY-Link for full climate adaptability,
regardless of extremity.
The patient will be integrated with bionanotechnological applications."
Rurik emerged from the shadows,
his merciless eyes locked on her.
"How long until she's ready?"
"Estimated recovery: three weeks."
"How do we know it'll work this time?"
The doctor smiled.
"Her compatibility with the prototype—
based on Hedeon's genetics—
is at 98%.
She's perfect because she's blood of his blood.
She will be the weapon that makes them all kneel."
"Perfect."
Rurik stepped closer.
Gripped her jaw.
Lifted her face.
She spat blood on him.
"Didn't think you guys did that to your own."
He wiped his face with a cloth.
"I've never considered you one of us.
Hedeon might think you're valuable to the Bratva,
but you're nothing but a sukin syn.
You'll never have the balls a Pakhan needs."
The punch hit like a shot—
fast,
precise,
merciless.
Her jaw cracked.
Her neck snapped back.
Something tore inside.
She choked on her own blood.
"Mraz'nik!
Asshole!
Hedeon konchalka!—"
"Aww, learning to curse, little bitch?
Here's a gift for that."
The holoscreen lit up in front of her.
Suddenly, the image appeared—
Swollen eyes.
Trembling lips begging for a help
Trix couldn't give.
Filthy clothes.
Platinum hair falling over a bruised,
flushed face.
Beaten.
Suffocating.
Tears and blood streaming down.
Knees pressed into a filthy floor.
Arms bound behind her back with nanocords.
Darya.
"P-please… let me go…"
Her voice faltered.
A hand appeared on the holoscreen—
thick fingers gripping her face,
stroking her cheek.
"I'll let you go…"
Rurik's voice—
for the first time—
sounded friendly.
"Soon… real soon…"
Another hand appeared,
holding a silver dagger.
It grazed her neck.
"P-please, I'll do whatev—"
Her mother closed her eyes.
The blade slid.
A clean cut.
Blood sprayed red across the lens.
The air vanished from Trix's lungs.
An invisible hand clutched her throat.
Each heartbeat a hammer in her skull.
Muscles locked.
Legs turned to stone.
Fever exploded inside her.
Her eyes burned.
Tears spilled uncontrollably.
Her mouth opened—
but nothing came out.
No words.
No sound.
Just broken gasps.
Dizziness.
The floor dissolving.
The scene etched into her soul,
shattering her spirit.
Darya still writhed.
Still tried to breathe.
But the blood swallowed her life.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!"
Trix's scream shredded her vocal cords.
A guttural roar.
Primal.
Savage.
It tore reality to pieces.
A desperation that lit her up from the inside.
Everything spun in slow motion.
Unthinkable horror.
Loss tearing her chest open.
Bile scorched her throat.
Her whole body trembled.
This couldn't be happening.
It was real.
It was real.
It was real.
Rurik turned to the doctor.
"Give us five minutes.
I've got one last lesson for her."
Trix blinked,
still trying to process what she'd seen.
"You're gonna see, fucking trash heap!"
She clenched her teeth.
Clung to the last ounce of strength she had.
"I will—"
The pain ripped through.
Rurik's fists slammed into her ribs.
Her face: a target.
Her stomach: a punching bag.
Her essence: torn out.
"Been dying to shut that filthy little mouth, ungrateful brat."
Honestly?
She didn't care anymore.