Rustpunk

Prologue

The man tried desperately to save the meal he had made for himself, he was unable to stomach the concoction he ended up with, the texture was reminiscent of noodles but not quite and the taste resembled anchovies mixed with olives and scrambled eggs, he never was much of a cook.
In the next room a baby began to cry, the man sighed.
It had been excruciating the past three weeks, it was enough to drive a person insane.
He turned off the stove and absentmindedly licked a drop of dinner off his finger.
He was choking back a gag as he ran into the other room to attend to his child.
“What's wrong this time?” He asked her, but all he got as a response was the ear piercing scream from a set of lungs that seamed too small to have such power.
He groaned picking her up.
“I could sell you to the gypsies you know..”
He held her out in front of him.
The six month old stopped screaming but big crocodile tears were running down her cheeks and her tiny lips were quivering.

He looked into her eye's.
As young as she was they had already changed to an unusual green, and for a split second he thought he was looking into the eye's of her mother.
He put her head onto his shoulder and slowly swayed back and forth closing his eye's tight as they began to tear up.
It had been three weeks sense the funeral.
She was all he had left in the world and he was going to do everything within his power to keep her safe.
“You'll be OK..” He promised
“Don't worry, I'll be there for you Kris... You can count on that...”








Chapter 1


Kris lay on her bunk; a letter rested in her limp fingers. The writing was a standard form she had seen many times before. A carbon copy, no different than any of the other thousands sent out. Even the flourished General Terion’s signature seemed cold and unfeeling. ‘Had he even read it?’ she wondered. Most likely he had signed it along with a stack of others without giving it a passing thought.
Normally Kris was content with her residence at Fort Giles but recent events left her with a bitter feeling. Her mother had died when she was a child, so she lived on the base where her father was stationed from a young age. This had been her home for so long, she couldn’t even remember what had been ‘home’ before.
She glanced at the letter, the words blurring as she squinted her eyes and tried to picture where she had been before Fort Giles. Vague memories of high prairie grass flickering in a harsh wind flashed through her mind. Then there was a small cabin on the edge of a river that cut through the plains. Was that her home before the war began? With a heavy sigh, Kris pushed her head further into her pillow. ‘What does it matter now, anyway?’

Kris was from the Rose Nation. War had broke out when she was very young. The Rose Nation had been locked in a long,bloody conflict with the Nation of Lorebettan, which was lead by a pitiless dictator named, Pace. After suffering a crushing and brutal defeat in the most recent battle, Pace had surrendered. The Rose nation was victorious. Many were celebrating the success, but as usual in all wars, there were casualties. The father of Kristine Rustwood was among the ones who did not make it out; the letter she now possessed notified her of his death. The structured, sympathetic words seemed indifferent, somehow, no matter how much they were intended to be just the opposite.
General Terion had been a close friend of her father, Colonel Rustwood. He had personally made arrangements for Kris’s new life. She was to be relocated to a town she had never heard of, to live with a distant relative she never knew existed somewhere in the far northern highlands of the Rose Nation territories. It all sounded very safe, and though tout and dull to Kris, compared to the excitement of the military base she had always known. But General Terion was certain it was what her father would have wanted and had informed her by letter, not giving her the opportunity to argue on the matter.
The world as Kris knew it, was collapsing around her, all she could do now was wait for the Major, and the Cadet to escort her to the rest of her life. There was a heavy feeling in her chest and her eyes felt dry as she stared straight up at the drab, white ceiling. It had all come as such a shock, Kris couldn’t bring herself to accept it just yet. Her father was customarily gone for long months,or even a year at a time, but he always came back; why would this time be any different.
Folding the paper, she placed it in the pocket of her olive drab jacket and stood up. Swallowing hardly, she stared at her reflection in the square mirror opposite her bunk. She had pale skin with freckles. Her short, layered hair was ridiculously red and made her complexion seem all the paler. Her eyes were a sort of peculiar bronze-green, her mother’s eyes she’d been told. Kris couldn’t tell either way. The one still photograph she had of her parents was an antiqued brown color and try as she might, she couldn’t remember her mother.
Though Kris was not a soldier, she had long been a favorite of the soldiers on Fort Giles and wore her own version of the military uniform, consisting of a black tank top covered by her jacket,black fingerless gloves, with olive drab pants and combat boots with thick,heavy soles.
Kris was eighteen now,and was of legal age to make her own way, but even though their side had won there were still members of Pace's scattered army at large that had refused to accept defeat. It was because of this that General Terion was sending her into exile, as she saw it anyway; she would be far from any battlefield, safe, without any risk of even the most tedious thing happening to her.

Pulling her gaze from the mirror, Kris glanced out the dormitory window at the charming view of a nine foot fence which ran all the way around the compound. It was topped by a lovely spiral of barbed wire; sections of it were rusted out, adding to its grim look. Kris sighed, her shoulders slumping. She couldn’t imagine a horizon not being bordered by the familiar barrier.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Her stomach gave a dismayed wrench as she slowly opened the door, accentuating the creak from the stiff hinges for as long as possible.
It was the new cadet with short, cropped sandy hair and a boyish face which made him look far too young to be there, in Kris’s opinion. “Transport jet is ready for departure, Ms. Rustwood,” he informed her in an urgent tone.
“It’s Kris…” Kris informed him dryly as she turned around and picked up a small, worn, bag containing her few possessions. She slung the strap on her shoulder and took one last look at the room she had called home, taking a small amount of pleasure in the way her unhurried manner was making the cadet squirm. “Alright,” she sighed again. “Let’s go.” She turned and plodded after the cadet, leaving the door swinging shut and the creaking sound echoing through the hall behind her.


Fort Giles was a half way point of sorts; it was the only form of life in the barren land that separated the Rose Nation and the Lorbettan Nation. It would take several hours to reach their destination. Kris slumped into her seat, listening to the noise from her portable radio that was clipped to her belt. Her taste in music ranged from the oldies, to the old oldies; then there were the really old oldies as well as the incredibly old oldies, all jumbled up in static and periodic war update announcements. After two hours she grew tired of listening and switched it off.
She propped her thick-soled boots on the back of the seat in front of her and shoved her hands in her pockets as she listened to the hum of the jet engines instead. Her stomach still feeling tightened in bitter knots, Kris peered out the tiny window. The sky was a dark gray with puffy clouds of eerie green scattered throughout.
Kris pressed her head against the cold glass and squinted at the strange cloud forms. ‘What on earth?...’ she forgot her troubles for a brief moment, fixating on the strange phenomenon. Just for a moment, she thought she saw a form shifting behind the gloom. She held her breath, dropping her feet to the ground as she inched closer to the window, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary, aside from the odd coloring of the mist.
Kris shrugged, about to dismiss it. ‘Maybe it’s just stress-‘ A flash of light interrupted her thoughts. White smoke and a burst of air illuminated a sinister looking fighter jet; sleek and beautiful in its own way. It’s black paint was marred, but Kris instantly recognized the twisted lightning bolt of the enemy nation on its nose. “A Black Bullet!” she breathed, her heart jumping to her throat. And that was all she had time to think or say. The aircraft had unleashed one of its deadly missiles and it was heading straight for them. Kris dove to the floor, wedged herself between the two seats and clamped her arms over her head.
She felt a wave of heat as a fireball erupted on the fuselage. As both wings caught on fire, the bulky jet made a nose dive into the thick clouds.

Pieces of their jet were braking off in mid air as they spiraled out of control. Kris could hear shouts from the flight deck as the crew struggled to gain control. The pilot’s efforts seemed to have paid off as the nose jolted up ward, and she felt herself level once again. Then she was lifted roughly in the air as the jet crashed to the ground. Slamming against the seat, a sharp pain shot through Kris’s knees and elbows. A horrible groaning noise raked her ears as the aircraft skidded across the plains and finally stopped as it smashed into a cliff. The windshield blew in and everything went black.
When Kris came to, her vision was blurred,she could smell smoke, and a rumbling sound seamed to be getting closer. As her eyesight cleared she stumbled to her feet and looked around the rubble. The soldiers escorting her were slumped over the jumbled dashboard with no sign of movement. Kris felt dizzy, barely remembering the sight of the Black Bullet; the rumbling she heard now was most likely the adversary, coming to see if there were survivors, or anything worth salvaging from the wreckage.
Coughing she held her hand over her mouth. The smell of the burning iron made her sick. Her legs shaking, she stumbled,tripping across charred pieces of the jet as she made her way to the cockpit. Her fingers shaking, she reached for the pilot’s shoulder but stopped when she saw the pool of blood on the dash and the vacant look on the half of his face that was visible to her.
“Damn.” Kris, clenched her teeth. The others were dead as well; there was nothing she could do. The rumbling noise was growing closer. Shakily Kris maneuvered around the bodies and made her way to the exit. She took hold of the lever that opened the door and pulled down. Nothing happened.
“Come on!”she mumbled, raising herself up as she tried to use her weight to get it to move. The rumbling felt like it was just outside the tattered aircraft. Then it stopped. Kris held her breath in a panic.
“Open! Damn it!” she kicked the lever furiously with her boot. A pain shot through her leg, but the lever budged,letting the dented door open an inch.
Kris’s heart pounded. She knew the enemy was closing in. Wedging herself in the door frame, she pushed on the door with her boots. Inch by inch, the door creaked open until there was just enough space for her to squeeze through. Ignoring the pain in her ankle, Kris ran, and didn’t look back.

The only place to hide on the landscape were handfuls of trees, spread rather far from each other. Kris darted to the first bunch and ducked behind bushes which grew along the scraggly tree trunks just as two men emerged from the landed Black Bullet and started on foot towards the crash site. Kris’s father had taught her the basics of survival in warfare, in hopes she would never need such information. Now the things he had taught her kicked in, automatically taking over any other thoughts or fears.
She waited for the men to go inside and darted for the next cluster of brush. Luckily a layer of fog hovered thickly over the ground. It seemed to be growing thicker as the sun sank. Kris’s boots left prints on the thick, dry grass. Only ten yards away she cut through the fog completely and found herself in a clearing. Her mind began racing. She heard yelling, and the sound of footsteps. They would soon find her path. There had to be somewhere to take cover.
Her eyes scanned the land, desperately searching. Not far up ahead, she caught a glimpse of some kind of den cut into the flat earth. It did not look animal made from where she was, but whatever it was, it was her best shot.
Kris held her breathe as thunder rolled and periodically lightning would streak across the sky. Maybe it wasn’t as late as it seemed, she thought as she ran. When she reached the entrance, she was shocked to find metal stairs leading downward into the ground. ‘A bunker,maybe?’ She would have stood pondering the peculiar setting, but a bullet whizzing past her ear removed any curiosity for the moment. She clambered down the steps, disappearing from view.
Down, she kept going, the clank of her boots on the metal the only sound she could hear as the thunder faded from earshot, along with any sounds of the pursuing enemy. Right when she thought the dark would consume her, her movement triggered a mechanism which turned on a row of soft golden lamps that illuminated her path. She glanced up. There was no turning back now. She followed lights into a dimly lit room..
“What is this place?” She mumbled to herself. “What is it doing in the middle of no where?” A faint clicking noise caused her to quickly turn around. The entrance was gone. In fact it looked as if there never was an entrance.
Kris ran to where the doorway had been and pressed her bruised fingers on the wall, clenching her teeth as she felt for the exit, but the wall appeared to be seamless. She was trapped.
“Well that’s just swell,” frustrated, she bit her lip, tasting blood. She held her hand to her mouth, realizing for the first time the cuts and scrapes on her face from the crash. The blood was mostly dried scabs now. She could feel some had formed in the shape of a trickle down her cheek. Kris blinked, and brushed her sweaty hair behind her ear. Her head pounded with a horrible ache that made her sick to her stomach. Straining her eyes to where the light shone, she looked around the room for any way to escape.
Aside from a few disintegrating signs on the wall, the room was empty, except for a large,peculiar machine in the center. Kris moved closer to investigate. She ran her finger along some faded words painted on it; the only ones she could read clearly were the last three “MUST OBTAIN KEY”.
For a moment she tried to hear any movement above ground but it was dead silent, save for the soft buzzing of the lights.
Her hand rested on the surface of the machine as she pressed the palm of her hand against her aching for-head. Suddenly a compartment opened on the machine, and sucked her hand into it. “Ah! What the!” Kris, yelled in surprise and struggled to pull it out to no avail. Then, a searing pain shot into her palm, like a hot iron was being pressed against it. She yelled again, and fought to free herself until it finally let her go. Jerking her arm away, she backed away in one jump and jerked off her fingerless glove to examine her hand.
It had burned straight through the leather, and imbedded metal pieces into her skin forming a symbol she had never seen before. She cringed and flexed her fingers. The pain still lingered. From the corner of her eye she saw movement and jerked her head up sharply. There was a new entrance, leading in the opposite direction,further into the mysterious bunker. “What now!” She grumbled, stuffing her burned glove in her pocket with her uninjured hand.

This new path led straight. Florescent, yellow-green lamps welded to the wall, lit the passage. There was nowhere else for her to go, so she decided to see where it went. She left the room making sure to steer clear of the device she just encountered.
The complex was a maze of alloy corridors that ran every possible direction, yet not leading anywhere except to another set of corridors, she walked them for what felt like hours without making any progress. The fact that she had not eaten anything that day was starting to take its toll, she felt weak and groggy. She leaned her back against the wall and slid down, what she wouldn't do for something to settle her stomach.
Kris rubbed her eyes and sighed. She almost didn't notice the sound of footsteps in the distance. When she was sure that's what they were she jumped up, accidentally banging her head on the rounded hall. She muttered a swear before realizing that the strides had stopped, then she heard them resound closer.
‘Shit!’ She didn’t dare say it aloud. She barely dared to breath. Where exactly were they coming from? She tried to place their direction so that she could proceed in the opposite direction.
Kris was tired, and injured and not really in the mood for exchanging pleasantries with whoever the creepy footsteps belonged to. She turned the corner of the passageway, very slowly. She could hear whoever it was entering. Carefully she peered around.
Whoever it was had his back turned and seemed to be investigating the wall, then he crouched down and analyzed the floor. From the little Kris could see he was tall with black hair and was wearing a long battered coat. When he turned his head to where she could see his profile her heart skipped a beat.
There where various mechanical bits implanted into his face, as for the metal on metal noise, his legs were entirely replaced with a robotic ones, as was one of his arms. He stood up and turned around. She quickly slid back into her corner hoping he didn't see her. Once again everything was unnervingly quiet. Chills went down her spine, it felt like someone was staring her down. Daring to take another peek, she turned her head and found herself face to face with the cyborg.
Kris ducked as he swung his robotic arm at her, making a hole in the wall instead. “What do you want?” She tried to ask,but he didn't seem to want to answer. She missed a few of his lunges which only seemed to fuel his temper. Her luck ran out as he struck a blow to her stomach,she caught his organic fist before it impacted her already battered face. He grabbed the collar of her jacket, raising her off of her feet and hurled her across the corridor.
Kris rolled into a chamber against a railing that stopped her from a forty foot drop. She sat up and wiped some blood off her lip. Her attacker followed, cornering her.
Before she had a chance to react he shoved her over the railing.
“Aw hell!” she said, beginning her decent. She closed her eyes and waited for a bright light, but oddly enough her fall was lasting longer then it should have. She opened her eyes. Now she was sliding down a large winding pipe, there must have been an opening in the floor she didn't see. All the endless turning started making her nauseous, and the musty, damp smell in the air didn’t help. Finally she slipped out onto another cold floor and landed roughly in a heap. Kris had had enough. All she had time to take note of was the vague outline of someone standing to the side before she slowly slipped from consciousness.