Year 1929 — Location Unknown
The Great World War.
A lifeless woman lies on the floor, her throat slit, blood pooling beneath her in silence. Two small children rest beside her as though waiting for her to wake up and call them to dinner.
"Mama, please wake up. It's time for dinner."
The girl's voice trembles. Tears streak her face. She turns to Ilama, searching his eyes for something, an answer, a fix, anything. Then she collapses against the worn floorboards, too weak from starvation to hold herself upright.
"Sorry, Sasha. There's nothing I can do."
Ilama holds his sister in his lap, trying to offer her what little comfort he has. Slowly, the weight of it all, the hunger, the cold, the helplessness, pulls him under. He loses consciousness beside her.
Three Days Later
Rain falls over a sombre village blanketed in haze and dark clouds. Crumpled bodies are scattered across the ground. The pale blue of the rainwater slowly bleeds into brick red where it meets the dead.
Two investigators make their way into the village.
"Commander... this is hell."
Lubbock's voice is barely steady.
The Commander and his subordinate walk the main pathway through the village, stepping around bodies on both sides. The expressions frozen on the dead tell a story without words, anguish, desperation, the last moments of people who had no good options left.
"This could be an attack from the opposing force. Check the surrounding areas. Scatter!"
"Yes, sir!"
They split up.
The Commander reaches the village hall alone.
"No signs of enemy presence..."
He steps inside and stops.
"Jesus Christ, Lubbo. All of the elders have hanged themselves. What in God's name is going on?"
He walks slowly through the hall. On the floor, half-buried beneath debris, he finds a bloodstained photograph, a family portrait. He recognises the faces. They're the same people hanging from the rafters above him.
The realisation doesn't arrive gradually. It lands all at once, and it nearly breaks him. These weren't soldiers. These weren't combatants. They were people, and whatever drove them to this end had been total.
"What drove them to do this to themselves..."
He sets the photograph down carefully and walks back out into the rain.
After a thorough search, Lubbock and the Commander exhaust every reasonable possibility of finding a survivor. The village has nothing left to give.
Lubbock heads down a trail toward an isolated house at the far edge of the village. Before he reaches it, he notices something, a silhouette of a girl, covered in blood, pointing toward the house ahead.
Are my eyes playing tricks on me?
He blinks. The figure is gone. He steadies himself and keeps walking.
He opens the door.
Ilama is lying on the floor, completely still, but breathing.
"THE KID'S STILL BREATHING, COMMANDER!"
The Commander hears it and breaks into a run. Midway across the village, he stumbles, nearly trips over the body of a small girl lying in the mud. He looks at her. Something about the scene doesn't sit right. He can't make sense of it. He gets back up and keeps running.
[Commander and Lubbock's POV]
A boy sits in the corner of the house. His eyes are open but distant, not vacant exactly, more like something behind them has been forced very far inward.
The Commander steps over the debris and crouches down in front of him. The boy doesn't react to their presence. The Commander steadies him and looks at his face.
"What's your name, kid?"
"...Ilama."
"Full name."
The rain and thunder intensify outside, drumming against the roof.
"Ilama... Ren."
The Commander and Lubbock exchange a look. Something shifts in both of their expressions.
"Ilama. Can you tell us what happened here?"
The boy's voice comes out in pieces, barely above a whisper.
"Everyone... they, they..."
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
The Commander's radio crackles to life. He reaches for it.
"Commander, the enemy has taken over. There's nothing left." The voice on the other end is breaking. "May God be with you all. If you can, Commander, please avenge us—"
The transmission cuts out mid-scream.
Lubbock stares at the Commander, watching his composure begin to fracture.
"What happened, Commander?"
"Evil has taken over the world."
A long silence.
The Commander looks at the boy, then at the village outside the doorway, then back at the radio in his hand. Something settles in him, not peace, but resolution.
"Now that the world is in chaos, we'll liberate it in our own way. Lubbock, grab the kid. We're leaving."
Lubbock doesn't move. He's somewhere else entirely.
"LUBBOCK! Come to your senses. This is not the time."
"Commander, but—"
"I know. I know it'll be hard with no official support, no structure, nothing behind us. But we're going to build a world where peace and law exist again. Now grab the kid."
Lubbock snaps back. He lifts Ilama carefully onto his shoulder and follows the Commander out of the house and into the mist.
"Let me go. I'm nothing. I couldn't do anything. I'm no better than trash."
Ilama's voice is hoarse, stripped of everything.
"Kid, listen to me. The trash you're talking about can always be refined into something better."
Lubbock says it plainly, without theatre. Ilama goes quiet. He turns it over in his mind, and somewhere in the exhaustion and grief, he decides not to let go.
He passes out on Lubbock's shoulder.
Year 1951 — Dnipro, Ukraine
Sleuth Hounds Agency Headquarters
Ilama is draped across his chair like a man with no structural integrity, staring at the ceiling. He's been thinking about that village again, about the faces, about Sasha, about what it means to make sure it never happens to someone else. Then his expression shifts entirely.
"G Man. Go buy me some lollipops."
G Man looks up from his desk with the controlled patience of a man one request away from losing it.
"Ilama, you finished an entire box yesterday. A box I bought."
Ilama fixes him with the most plaintive expression in his arsenal, wide eyes, slightly tilted head.
"Come on. Just this once. Please."
"We're heading to the train station after this. We'll stop somewhere along the way. Happy?"
"...Thanks, G Man."
A few minutes later, Petrona walks in wearing a Yukata.
Conner looks up. His face goes red. His nose starts bleeding immediately.
"CONNER, YOU PERV!"
Petrona wheels on him, furious. Conner grabs a tissue, mortified. Petrona turns to the rest of the room.
"Anyway, is everyone ready to go?"
G Man sees the Yukata. Something behind his eyes snaps. He begins cracking his knuckles, lips pressed so tightly together they start to go white.
"Do you think we're going on a vacation?"
"Do you have a problem with me wearing a Yukata?"
"You, just, fine. Never mind."
Conner, still dabbing at his nose, nearly dozes off at his desk when the line beside him rings. He picks up.
Lubbock's voice.
"Lubbock! How's your wife?"
From the Boss's office, where Lubbock is sitting across from the Boss, who maintains a perfectly blank expression throughout, Lubbock's composure evaporates completely.
"SHUT UP. Your ride to the train station is outside. Tell the others."
"Alright, alright, relax. Say hi to your wife for me—"
"Mother—"
Conner hangs up.
Back in the Boss's office, Lubbock sits with steam practically coming out of his ears.
"I swear I'm going to kill that man one day."
The Boss says nothing. His expression remains unreadable.
"Who was it, Conner?"
"Heheh. Lubbock. Ride's here, everyone."
Ilama stands, picks up his long coat, and slings it over his shoulder in one motion. He moves toward the front door, then pauses and looks back at the team.
G Man still faintly furious. Petrona smoothing out her Yukata. Conner pocketing his tissues with the dignity of a man who has made peace with himself.
"Shall we go then."
It isn't really a question.
"Hell's Train is waiting."
[Authors Note: Hi everyone it been really hard for us to keep the storyline consistent, since 2 people are working on the plot of this novel. We hope you are enjoying this work of ours and if you do, make sure to share it with people as your way of showing us support! All love <3
Regards, Authors.]