Koldan, Sin and the Doomed Ship

(This is a continuation of a previous post: Arrival)

Ascension

Wrath climbed the ladder, leaving the unconscious creature in the corridor, looking for something that would help her lift its enormous mass up the vent. She was obviously not aware of the dangers of this place...

A few long minutes passed, where nothing happened. One could only hear the nearest fans turning painfully, giving the place a creepy atmosphere. The walls quietly cracked from time to time, as if they were in movement. Then, after a time that would be considered irresponsible by any doctor, the end of a rope fell on the floor, after bouncing on the wolf's head. Wrath reappeared after a long descent. She had enough rope to solidly attach the creature to it, so she made sure it would not strangle it, even if at this point... it would have probably not changed anything.

  "I didn't see anyone up there. Are you the only survivor?" She talked, knowing the wolf would not respond. "Besides the Surgeons, obviously."

She quickly finished making the last knots.

Krof lolled his shaggy head to the side as he was slowly and painstakingly winched up the shaft, blood still pouring from his snout. He coughed and choked occasionally, clearing his breathing passage, as his head seemed to strike every pipe and protrusion on the way up. He barely responded to the impacts, and certainly did not answer the questioning verbally. She did see his ears twitch and pivot weakly in her direction as she speaked, however.

Wrath climbed the ladder for the second time, her hooves marking each step she made towards the top with a thump. The sound faded out progressively from the corridor, until it couldn't be heard anymore, back to the sad blowing of the ventilation. Even if she was largely capable of transporting such a weight, she did not seem to care too much about the well being of her shipment. The poor creature's head made funny noises as it hit the pipes running along the wall. After reaching the top, she put the wolf on the floor, loosening the knots and then grabbing him by the hands, as she did downstairs, pulling him out of the dark room towards the interior of the strange stronghold.


Krof would have been impressed by the demon's strength, were he awake to see it, his bulk scraping across the deck as she pulled him by the arms. His nose dragged along the floor and was caught in the gaps in the deck repeatedly, making a comical thump as his head bobbled around. But despite her abuse he was still clinging to life. Whoever his designers were, they built him to endure. He left a minor trail of blood that marked the spot where she brought him to rest, dropping his arms in front of him as if he'd been reaching out to her in supplication. Wrath made a pause, catching her breath. She took the time to look around her, trying to find a sign that would help her figure out where the next destination was. She looked back at the thin trail of blood.

Wrath: "May I be damned! He is so empty he is not even spilling blood anymore. Where can I find some of it?!" She looked almost desperately at the end of the only other corridor connecting this room, lost. Then she saw the map. Obvious, in the middle of the room, glowing in a yellow color, detailing the main parts of the... "Persephone. What a poor choice for a name." She squinted, trying to find a medical room or something similar.

The medical room

Krof stubbornly refused to fit onto the medical bench, instead draping half off of it, arms and legs splayed awkwardly and dragging on the floor. When activated, the spider-limbed autosurgeon above him diligently started its diagnosis, paused, and flashed a stream of errors to the controller station. "Species recognized: Type 73 Bioform, "Skoll". Manufactured by Sikarsky-Balanchine Laboratories. Minimal template found - please update software for optimal care."

  Wrath looked at the... spider (that's the only thing she could think about) with incredulity.
  "Update soft ware? What does it mean?!"
  She walked angrily around the operation table.
  "All of this to be blocked by a FREAKING ROBOT?!!"
  She got even madder, her very personality resonating in an obvious manner.
  "It can't BE!"
  She slammed her fist on the table with rage, not noticing she validated the start of the operation, but shattering the glass of the controller at the same time. The machine emitted three long beeps.
  "Please step aside until the surgery is complete."
  Wrath moved back, looking at the mechanical arms doing their job.
  "Will this work... ?" Her eyes glowed of a stronger gray.
  "You are really lucky, Skoll." She repeated what she had just heard. "Lucky that I need you."

The autosurgeon unfurled a laser burner and moved it to the collar of the Skoll's armor. Nothing happened for a long pause, and then the atonal voice of the program controlling it stated: "Insufficient solid fuel for extraction cutter. Remove patient's protective armature manually." While waiting for compliance, it deployed syringes from other limbs and began injecting anti-shock drugs directly into the bioform's neck. The ones it had verified as being compatible with his metabolism, at any rate.

  Wrath facepalmed. "Why is it always so complicated with non-demonic beings?"

She approached the Skoll, trying to open his armor, not finding how at first, removing the protective shoulders, the belt, the boots, the knee protectors, the box-that-looked-like-a-watch, failed at removing his left arm protection, so simply opened up the military grade cloth, revealing the Skoll's godly built body. Her eyes lit up again, but this time she said nothing, instead she smiled. Then removed his pants, leaving him in his underwear. As she passed behind the creature's head, his moving ears tingled her belly and she couldn't refrain from giggling a little. As the armor bounced on the lower part of the table, she heard a little beep. Investigating it, she saw a little device with a red screen. She pressed it.

  "Personnel File - SbSGT Zhukov" "What is this...?"

Before she moved back to read it, she pressed on the other controller, activating the sequence, and she carelessly leaned against the wall to read her new finding.

Zhukov

In the personnel file, she found out several things about the creature's past and present. Wrath didn't have knowledge of some notions written in it, so she tried to picture in her own words what each of them could be.

First, his name was seemingly Zhukov. He was a transgenic creature of class (or race, as she interpreted it) "Skoll". He had been bred inside the Sikarsky-Balanchine Laboratories in a land called NeoSoviet. He was made to have a superior strength and endurance, have an incredible capacity to survive (his heart was rerouteable with redundant chambers; he could stay awaken 96 hours straight) and he had a high developed olfactory sense, too.

Skolls genes were a mix of Creodonta (extinct order of pre-history Earth fauna), as well as canine, human and synthetic DNA (she ignored that last acronym). They were made to not be able to survive on their own without an enzyme that was provided by their human handlers. If not provided with this enzyme, they would die in a short time. They also had few personal rights.

Zhukov was part of a team designed for hazardous armed boarding and narcotics interdiction (whatever that could mean).

He was basically a soldier, and it would perfectly fit her needs.

A well trained soldier

The experience was similar to undressing a corpse at this point, even his previous sluggish movement had stilled due to the sedatives the machine had injected into his carotid. His jaws hinged open and his tongue lolled free, streaming saliva, before the autosurgeon produced a set of blunt clamps and closed his maw again. Muzzling him, treating him like a potentially dangerous animal. It cut through his remaining clothing with a rotary scalpel and began its search. Sensors roved over the bulky body, red telltales showing up on the x-ray as they detected trauma. "Left lung, punctured and collapsed due to stab wound. Fracture, ribs nine, ten, eleven. Concussion. Hydrostatic brain trauma consistent with fall." An analysis completed. "Unidentified toxin complex. Initiating toxicology." A large-bore needle plunged into his forearm and his remaining blood supply was siphoned out, routing through filters.

Wrath's ear slightly moved as the machine started speaking. She listened closely to the enumeration of the wounds, getting more worried at each new announcement. At least, the Skoll was being taken care of, but she had no idea how much time it would take. She thought about the wounds... and realized the Skoll may actually have fallen from the top of the shaft she had brought him back up from. She gave another look at the tubes connecting the creature's arm to the machines. The stream of blood was very, very thin. Thin enough she was starting to think he would not make it, even with the metabolism he had. Surely she had an idea, but...

As if on cue, Krof's eye nearest the demon snapped open, the pupil dilating wide and adjusting as it darted about seekingly. It settled on her, and his eye narrowed suspiciously. With a speed that echoed the quickness she displayed when kicking his rifle aside earlier, his arm flinged out to the side, paw wrapping around her thigh and gripping it. Retractable claws slid out and poised at her dark flesh, ready to plunge in and draw blood. The sedatives apparently wore off with alarming speed. And now that the venom was being strained from his blood, his strength was returning. He kept his viselike grip on her leg as he spared a glance around the room, taking in his surroundings. His brow furrowed in confusion.

Awakening

  Wrath gasped as the Skoll grabed her thigh, surprised by its swiftness, dropping the device she was holding. She didn't expect the creature to recover so quickly. "I'm not here to hurt you." She didn't mention her attempt to slay him less than an hour ago. "Be at rest. You're being healed as I speak." She slowly moved her hand down, gently attempting to lay it down on the furry arm. "You are very weak. Almost dead."
  Krof moved his eye to see the robotic spider-limbs tending to him, jaws still locked in the surgeon's clamps and possibly too weak to turn his head now after that one explosive movement of his arm. Recognizing where he was, he gritted his fangs and, slurred by his immobile jaws, growled out to the computer: "Zhivyye korrektsii . Udalit eto dermo ." The machine apparently understood, the clambs retracting and releasing his muzzle. His grip loosened and he let his arm drop, releasing her leg without so much as a single puncture. He had never seen her threaten him. And he now found himself in the one place where he could recover. Keeping his head straight, as if afraid he could not move his head again if he looked at her, he continued in the language again: "Zachem ty menya syuda?" It seemed to take him a moment to realize she did not understand, so he changed tongues. "Why did you bring me here?"
 Wrath let her arm fall along her body, not able to catch the Skoll's wrist. "I found you in a vent, far from here. There was blood everywhere." She said these words calmly, as if she was reading a shopping list. "I thought you were going to die, but then I realized there was maybe a way to save you. And, as strange as it sounds, I need someone to guide me in the Persephone." She gave a third look at the blood still moving in the tubes connected to the Skoll's body. "But I fear you might not go far. You likely lost more blood than the reason would allow you to."

  Krof stared at the ceiling as she explained, awake but far too weak to move again. He still had only one eye open, and that fluttered as she watched. "Who are you?" he asked, finally, pronouncing the words carefully. Whatever other language was native to him only provided half his accent, the rest was due to speaking around a maw full of fangs. The bridge of his nose wrinkled as he drew in air through his nostrils, taking in her scent. She wasn't trying to hide her nature, that was obvious. "I know *what* you are. Why do you need me for anything? Your kind are..." He coughed, webs of red-tinged spittle dangling from the fur under his chin. "...all over the ship."
  Wrath raised one eyebrow, curious as what the Skoll had just said. "All over the ship? I have seen none on the way here." She assumed that the Skoll was conscious of the long walk from the ventilation shaft to the medical lab. "You mentioned Surgeons... and I have seen none." Her senses were also capable of detecting demons around her pretty precisely, so she knew none was around. She made one step towards the surgery table. "I am Wrath. Duchess of Anhetas. In Hell." She felt the need to precise the location, as if it was not obvious. "And I need you. As much as you need me now." She wasn't sure he would inevitably die at this point, but it felt very likely. So she bluffed. A little bit.
  Krof laughed, deep in his throat, which seemed to cause him pain. He grimaced and gritted his teeth. "Is big ship." He looked back at her, now a presence in his peripheral vision, staring at her upside-down. "Maybe they are afraid of you." As if suddenly thinking of something, he began looking around the room as best he could, seeking something. "Is not first time I have spoken to one of you. Does not end well. And what is it you need from me, hnnn?"
  Wrath slowly raised the hand in a reassuring way. "You don't have to worry. There is no one here besides you and me." She came closer, her head taking more place in the wolf's reversed vision. "If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead a long time ago, Zhukov." She wrongly called him by his last name, thinking it was his first. She put her hand on his forehead, looking at him, sincerely worried, not scared at his potential reaction. He could feel her at a couple inches from the top of his head. "How do you feel?"

Bond

Krof closed his eyes as she patted him on his thick forehead, letting his head fall back and rest against her stomach for a moment. Then he flinched away, as if realizing what he was doing. With visible effort, he rolled over, slowly sitting upright on the side of the surgical bench. He reached up and placed a paw against the trunk of the autosurgeon, shoving it aside on its overhead track. He faced her, and even sitting down he still towered over her. His head sagged, looking at the floor.

  "Hell. So humans, they were right. It is a place." He raised his head, looking at her almost eye to eye. "I do not feel good at all. But is better than before." His punctured lung did not seem to be slowing him down as much as it should. Despite his obvious distrust of her, his voice had calmed, and become almost conversational. Maybe despite his best efforts.

Wrath smiled at the Skoll, impressed by his size now that he was sitting. She was glad she had not gotten rid of him. He looked like a formidable adversary against any danger on this ship.

  "You didn't figure out it was after seeing all the demons you mentioned?" She asked this question with a little bit of suspicion, unclear if he was pulling her leg or if he was a bit... naive. She opened her arms, surprisingly offering herself at the stranger; in contrast with the ship, she looked like a wonderful option, a peace haven, a soft and comfortable reward for someone who had almost died. "Not all of us have a lust to kill." A dark shadow passed in her eyes. "Not me, at least." She smiled again at the Skoll. "I am unarmed. Don't you want some comfort?"

Krof stared down at her, swaying slightly on his taloned feet, looking at the offered embrace as if it was full of snakes. So many seducers, corrupters, and slayers on board this ship. So many dead allies. So many days and months and years of nightmare, horrors that the demons had tried and refined and retried until they could claw at even his sanity. But stronger than that, stronger than Hell's serrated gifts, was the loneliness. His team long gone. The humans he had known and survived with gone after that. Year after year of mind-numbing routine and little sleep and little food. Until he met her, he could not recall when the last time he'd spoken to another being was. He was a pack creature, bred to work cooperatively with others of his kind. And he had been without any of that for a very long time. His nostrils fileld with the scent of her, very female despite her otherworldly smell. With the same explosiveness with which he had seized her leg, he now hunched forward, tossing arms about her and drawing her close to his furred chest. His nose snuffled at her hair, reveling in her smell. It might be from another place, one called Hell, but she was still...someone else. Someone to speak with. He held her closely, and felt strange relief.

Wrath hold the Skoll by the hips, pressing her body against his fur, breathing his... strong smell --- he obviously did spend quite some time in these clothes --- but that wasn't a concern for the demoness. While burying her head in his fur, she discretely bit her own tongue. Hard enough to make it bleed significantly; but the furry creature could not see it. She reached out for his neck, as a vampire would, but she wasn't one so she kissed him tenderly. At least, that's how it felt. She acted this whole diversion to be able to bite into his skin with her pointed teeth; he could not possible notice, so soft it was. The demoness transfered some of her own blood into the Skoll's body. She would move her lips regularly on the creature's body, to avoid bringing the attention on the process, but she would find the excuse of another kiss to bite in the flesh again. This had a double advantage: first, it would guarantee the creature not to die. Second, it would give her some powers on the Skoll, even if she couldn't determine exactly which ones. He would never know about it, obviously. Was it also important to mention that her demonic blood could be mixed with any other? ... As she stopped the embrace, she almost fainted, falling backwards, feeling weak, a drop of blood flowing down her chin.

Embrace

The looming bioform was solid as she pressed against him, not yielding to her weight, in fact he leaned in closer to meet her. Large paws cupped her shoulder blades, massaging her musculature with surprisingly gentle hands, the claws he had used on her thigh earlier now nowhere to be seen. He had expected to find the cold of the grave when he touched her, but she was warm. He actually shuddered when she parted his fur with her tongue and bit into his hide, a paw slipping to the back of her head and pulling her face in closer, enjoying the sensation...the pain was minimal, to him, and the sensation thrilling. When she bit him a second time, he welcomed it. His eyes snapped open when she stopped, and he caught her, rubbing at the trickle of blood with his thumb. As something warm and unyielding pressed into her leg, it became obvious that he was responding to her femininity...he made no apolgies for the prodigious erection tenting the front of the underclothes she had left on him, pulsing with a life of its own. He moved to pursue her touch, to let their intimacy descend into lust, but picked up on her decision to break the embrace. He found himself sensitive to her will, almost smelling it, and wishing to obey despite his attraction to her.

  "What is wrong?" he asked, meaning both her mood and  her sudden swooning. He reached behind her, cradling her by her bottom, tail draping over his forearm as he turned to sit her down upon the bench.
  Wrath recovered slowly from her almost black out, knowing what just happened as it was not the first time, but somewhat surprised of the intensity of it. Maybe she did not measure well how much the Skoll would take from her. "Nothing..." She was lost in her thoughts. "I had a rough day too, actually... Some treason in my hierarchy. I lost everything I had, even my... land." She had almost mentioned the sword. "I guess it's the sum of all of it. This... you... the confusion..." She looked at Zhukov with sleepy eyes, sincerely tired but also very certain that she had the upper hand in the situation. "I think I could use some rest."

In space

Wrath got thrown out of the portal and appeared on the Persephone in a gloomy corridor that was a radical change from where she was just a second ago. She stared at it, petrified, hardly realizing what had just happened. She had just got banned. From her own home. Her blood was boiling in her veins.

The corridor was shaped in a L, one side ended by a medium size squared door glowing in an orange light, while the other one led to a shaft going up, a ladder attached on one of its walls. She was standing right in the middle, at the corner of the passageway.

Wrath: I CAN'T BELIEVE HE DID THAT TO ME.

Wrath thundered in the corridor she just appeared into.

Wrath: Not even with a fight... what a coward.

She seemed to be lost in her mind, angry at an unknown person.

Wrath: I will have my revenge. I WILL come back. And he WILL die.

The eyes of the demoness glowed deeply as she said those words, expressing her inner rage in a far better way than her words. She finally took control back of her mind.

Wrath: "And what in Hell is this disgusting place...?"

Wrath looked around, suddenly realizing where she was.

Wrath: "A ship...?"
Wrath: AH!

Wrath gasped as she saw the huge sized wolf creature next to her.

Awakening

  Krof dragged himself laboriously and noisily, legs trailing, hauling his bulk down the corridor inch by inch by grasping the walls with his claws for traction and pulling. His breathing could be heard through the respirator at the front of his helmet, wet and rasping, as if he was breathing fluid...he seemed lost in his own struggles and agony, not aware there was another being here, speaking to open air, as he slowly rounded the corner.
  Wrath: What is happening here... ?!
  Krof apparently did not hear the tall, dark, unexpected form standing in the access tunnel...but he certainly saw it, when his helmet shakily turned to face down the ninety-degree turn. He recoiled backward, slamming his armored back against the wall, unlimbering the ugly and snub-nosed weapon from his back and pointing it at her one-handed. The barrel wavered shakily, as if his strength was ebbing. As the cluster of optics on his faceplate stared at her, his free paw clawed at his neck, unlatching seals with a hiss of vented oxygen. It became apparent that he was taking his helmet off, still pointing the oversized rifle in her direction.

  Wrath looked at the weapon being pointed at her and reached for her sword by reflex. But she quickly realized how shakily the gun was, so she put her hand down. Looking at the creature and the state of its equipment, she even started doubting of the working state of the weapon. "You're weak." She said those words in a condescendent way. "Why are you pointing this at me?" She looked at the fingers of the creature trying to open its helmet, wondering why the need for it as she was able to breathe in this place.
  Krof wrenched the helmet off his head...giving the sight of blood-matted fur, triangular ears, a canine snout...the face of a beast. A sheet of blood cascaded out of the front of the helmet as soon as he removed it, dropping it on the deck. His nose was shattered, blood pouring from his muzzle. With his helmet on, he'd have been drowning in it. Now free, he breathed loudly, raggedly. He propped himself up against the wall as best he could, eyes focusing and meeting her gaze. Blue eyes, the color of a pup's. And when she spoke, he understood. He laughed convulsively, causing a bloody bubble to emerge from one nostril, and lowered the weapon until it hit the deck heavily. He turned it over, to check the ammunition readout, which was flashing '001' in angry red. "Good...question..." he rumbled, spitting out a mouthful of blood onto his chestplate. "This one, it is for me." He tapped the readout with a claw.

Confrontation 

  Wrath was capable of having pity for such a poor creature, but not right now. She stared at the wolf in disgust with her gray eyes. "You wouldn't stand a chance in Hell. Have you fled a battle? Are you a coward, too?" Saying these words made her anger come back. She walked straight to the weapon and kicked it away from the Wolf with her hoof. "WHY DON'T YOU DIE LIKE ONE?" She was clearly upset. She kneeled down and looked at the wolf straight in the eyes. More blood was dripping from his muzzle. "You didn't have the courage to do it, did you."
  Krof grimaced as she lashed out with astonishing quickness, speed he wasn't certain he could have seen coming, even were he not half-dead. An ear twitched in frustration as he glared over at his cast-aside weapon, then slang his eyes back to look into hers. He'd had his suspicions about her nature, and the glimpse of her hoof had confirmed them. And now that she was close, her smell as well. Something otherworldly beneath the smell of his own blood. He glowered at her, then suddenly peeled his lips back, grinning at her with a mouth full of bloody fangs. "Not in my nature. My training. My...programming." he spat out the last word like an admission he found distasteful. "Been fighting Surgeons. Always more of those, just stitch bodies together, make more...Persephone has plenty of bodies." Another hacking episode of laughter. "At least you are better looking than them. Better to fight you, than them."

Wrath knew what the creature was talking about. Surgeons. A type of demon that were basically made of corpses stitched together. They saw limbs and pieces off of people to add to themselves, and make surgical stitching with spinnerets like a spider. Nothing very unusual in Hell. But somewhat unexpected in this unknown place.

  Wrath looked at the badly hurt creature, realizing it was in a worse shape than she thought. Her face was hesitant, as if she was trying to figure out if that was just a pile of lies or the truth. What would Surgeons do in such a weird place? On the other hand, hadn't she arrived here herself? She frowned, which slightly reduced the glow of her eyes. "Who would program someone to kill himself, anyway?" She shook her head from side to side, looking at the ground, still kneeling in front of the wolf-looking creature. "I don't understand most of what you are saying, but I can tell you are not going to make it far." She put her finger in a puddle of blood and then licked it. Then nodded, lost in her thoughts for a second. "You're in a pretty bad shape."
  Krof shrugged bitterly, even that movement caused him to clench his teeth in pain. "Combat robots, they self-terminate. Why not pile of meat and bone too." His voice became a rumbling whisper as his eyelids droop, and the membranes covering his eyes like a dog's slid halfway into place. By the looks of the crimson trail winding down the tunnel in his wake, he'd left over half his blood supply behind. "Bad. Yes." Impaired brain function. He looked wearily into her cold, grey eyes, and seemed unafraid in his delirious state. He was vaguely aware that he was fascinated by her dark beauty, letting himself become lost in those eyes. He wondered fleetingly if that knowledge would disgust her. The thought caused him to laugh again, bitterly, but it was weak and sputtering. "Dying."
  Wrath didn't seem to be willing to help, focused on her only goal: getting back to Hell. A drop of blood spurted on her cheek as the wolf laughed. She removed it with her black nailed fingers, almost without noticing. "You're not the same as a rob... whatever." She didn't hide her impatience. "Where is the portal to Hell? There must be one in this ship." She realized it was probably not clear enough. "Where do the Surgeons come from?" She knew what she was going to do next, but she needed some information first. "And don't die on me yet."

 Confusion

  Krof was disctracted momentarily, his eyes unfocusing, as the microbots swarming in his bloodstream tripped several alarms. Flashing medical icons appeared in his entopics, warning him to seek a transfusion immediately. As if there were any others of his species on board. "Portal?" he asked drowsily, head snapping upright repeatedly as he fought to stay awake. "They come from fucking Hell," he snapped, as if disgusted that she didn't know. "This is what humans tell me. Is their word, 'Hell'. " His tone became disoriented and tinged with anger, as if she was trying to wake someone from deep sleep. "Portal...is reactor." He nodded listlessly, as if satisfied at arriving at the right answer. "Reactor, Persephone's rotting bitch heart." He managed to open one eye, looking up at her from his awkward angle on the floor, as if he did not want to look away from her.
  Wrath looked around, trying to find a sign of where the reactor could be, ignoring the wolf's stare at her, much more preoccupied to get out of here as soon as possible. Seeing only two corridors, she muttered. "It shouldn't be difficult to find..." She went back to looking at the wolf. "Well, thank you for coming here exactly at the right time." She unsheathed her sword. "I usually don't kill innocents to craft my spells, but here it's an emergency." She was confident she could gather enough souls on the ship to revert the curse she had been inflicted. She approached the blade from the wolf's throat. "Farewell, wolf." She pushed it in his neck.

Wrath's sword got violently pushed backwards as she tried to slay him, flying into the corridor behind her and slipping between two metal parts forming the ground. The sound of the blade hitting several objects deep below indicated it was likely lost forever. Surprised, but also brutally frustrated by what happened, she threw herself forward, trying to suffocate the almost paralyzed wolf. As she did so, a sudden ray of light emitted from the wolf's chest, throwing her several feet backwards. The demoness landed harshly on the floor, confused at first but quickly realizing what happened.

  "What kind of magic is this?"

She had felt a very powerful artifact repelling her, but she could not figure out what it was exactly. Wrath grabbed the weapon next to her that had been kicked away earlier at this precise location, pointing it to the wolf.

  "I don't care if I can't steal your soul anymore. YOU WILL DIE."

She pulled the trigger. The red counter on the side of the weapon switched from "01" to "00". She was excited at the thought of getting rid of such an unexpected issue quickly... until the bullet bounced on an invisible shield a few inches from the wolf's snout, nullifying the murder attempt. The demoness stared at the creature, dazzled, then angrily threw the weapon on the side.

  "Well, I guess I won't be able to get rid of you."
  Krof had not witnessed any of the miracles that saved him, already faded into a comatose state. An ear twitched when she shifted the massive rifle into position and fired, the 15mm chemically propelled round roaring as it left the barrel. The range was too short for it to prime itself and fragment, and so it simply clanged off the far wall as it ricocheted. With his last shallow breath before he slipped toward oblivion, he muttered something in a different human tongue. So faint that only her demonic senses picked it up. "Mne ne udalos."
  Wrath tried to repeat what she had just heard. "Me nudlos... Me... nudlos... is that related to that artifact?" She looked at the unconscious wolf. "I guess it just wasn't his day..." She got up and moved forward, walking over the seemingly dead body, in direction of the ladder. She reached it, started climbing it (the confined space not allowing her to deploy her wings). One step, two steps... then she stopped.
  Wrath looked back at the end of the corridor, her eyes enlightened by an idea. "What if..." She climbed the ladder down and walked back to the wolf. "You've been living on this thing for quite a long time haven't you... you could be very helpful at giving me directions. And now that I am disarmed..." She winced unhappily at the idea of her lost sword. "...being together might actually give us more chances to survive."
  Wrath grabbed both of the wolf's arms and pulled him with an extraordinary strength in the corridor. Reaching the ladder, she looked where it went. A pretty long way. "Let me see if I find something that can help you up there..."

 She looked down at the wolf, completely blacked out.

  "And since I cannot hurt you physically, maybe I could use you to reach my goal... in some other way."

If you have read A beginning..., you should already know how Koldan and Sin met and why their relationship isn't normal. As I didn't want to introduce too many things at the same time, I have not explained how it actually happened. The two friends — are they still just friends actually, who knows? — had been seeing each other regularly at the Shemales Hideout, randomly at first but more like a rendez vous when they found out that they, in fact, really appreciated the company of each other.

One evening however, they could not be present in person at the same place at the same time, so the demoness contacted him directly in his mind. What happened afterwards was unexpected, even if you should already know the conclusion (but not in that amount of detail).

Reunion

  Sin whispered in Koldan's head with the excited voice of someone who meets a dear friend. "Hello Koldan, I hope you're having a great moment tonight."
  Koldan Illarion mentally flinched in reaction to the surprisingly intimate presence of the mental voice, then relaxed, his defenses lowering and his mind welcoming her. "Well. This is a great moment right now."
  Koldan Illarion: First time for me, anyway.
  Sin: It is for me too, and I apologize if I surprised you.
  Sin talked with a reassuring tone, conscious that the intrusion could have been surprising for the wolf. "Please tell me if it bothers you. I could not wait talking with you."
  Koldan Illarion: Heh. No worries, Sin. I'm sure you have many things you like to do on here. I'm not going to demand every moment of your time.
  Koldan Illarion nods, then realized she couldn't see it. His thoughts were in English, but somehow he knew they were communicating on some more primal level than that, thought without the need for clumsy verbal wrappings. He thought for a moment, then said earnestly, "No. It's good. It feels right to have you in my mind."
  Sin: I'm happy if it feels this way for you, as it does for me. It's strange, this connection that we have together... But I like it.
  Koldan Illarion: We have met before. Not sure where. Or when. But I feel it. Like I knew your scent before I was even born. We...haven't always been friends. But we are now. If this makes sense.
  Sin: I... don't know. My memories are completely black since that day I told you about when we met...
  Sin: I hope we were not enemies. You're such an important person to me... why would we have ever been in conflict?
  Sin had a sad face for a moment, thankful that Koldan could not see it. But her voice betrayed her mood. "I would like to know more about what happened to me before that day. Don't you?"
  Koldan Illarion: "I don't know. But we don't have to be enemies again." He pictured her face. The physical response to the image could be perceived through the fabric of his thoughts, pulse quickening and a surge of protective instincts. His own peculiar, nonhuman form of love. There was really no hiding one's true thoughts in telepathy.
  Sin didn't reply, but could understand exactly what Koldan was feeling. Again, she didn't know how nor why, but she had the impression she had known this kind of feelings since she was born. Where was she born again, anyway? Was she crazy? Why would the person she felt she knew the most was so far away from her own kind? What could link a wolf to a demoness?
  Sin suddenly realized she was thinking openly in Koldan's mind. "I am sorry. I didn't mean I was uncomfortable. I love our relationship, Koldan."
  Sin blushed, shy and a little anxious at what just happened. She had more questions than answers, but in a way she liked it.

Split 

  Koldan Illarion tried to recall his past, as he had so many times before, a rapid-fire series of images forming in response, plain for her to see too in his unshielded thoughts. Impossibly small, a whelp, looking up at a towering cadre instructor as the adult clouted him across the snout. An electronic klaxon sounding and red medical alerts flashing in his heads-up display, looking down at his armor as his blood fountained out into space, the cold of the interstellar void seeping intot he wound. Day after mind-numbing day of barest survival, alone in a jungle where green light filtered through trees. And finally - hands reaching out from a glaring nuclear furnace, so bright it stung the eyes even as a thought. A malevolent, somehow female presence that whispered, "Persephone" like a death threat. He withdrew, mentally, the images stopping. "Sorry."
  Sin assimilated the images, in shock, taken in the sudden and intense sensations that went through Koldan's mind. She took some time to recover, trying to understand what she had just seen. She had no knowledge of any of it, except maybe a weird sensation when hearing that electronic klaxon. A deep, dark sensation she had never felt... at least not to her knowledge.
  Sin: What... what just happened? You never talked about all of this to me. I recall you saying you lived in a jungle at some point but... not in this circumstance.
  Koldan Illarion: "I don't know," he answered sullenly. It was an embarrassment, somehow. Pitiable to not understand your own memories, like trying to walk and crawling instead. "Always the same. Always...she stops me." Persephone, whoever she was. "I was...am...afraid of her." It was not an easy admission. He was afraid of little, but Persephone filled him with a cold dread she could feel in his thoughts.
  Sin sensations showed surprise, but no reproach or distrust. Actually, the opposite: a serious concern about you, concern that some dark memories may hunt you and destroy you. And she was starting to be concerned about her, too, as this had triggered a dark sensation she didn't know she had ever felt.
  Sin: Persephone... I am wondering who that may be.
  Sin: Maybe finding her and confronting her would be useful... but maybe we want to know more first. But where should we start looking?
  Sin sends reassuring thoughts to the wolf. "I wish I could do more right now to comfort you..."

Reinforcement 

  Koldan Illarion: "I don't know, Sin." Ever since he had met her, he used her name reluctantly. To him, the word did not seem to fit her. "I am not sure I want to find her. She wants to kill me. And you." His paws clenched, gripping weapons he had trained with that were no longer in his possession. A strong, automatic reflex. "And she's not a she. An it." He accepted the comfort, wrapping her up in his calming thoughts.
  Sin smiled in a subtle mix of comfort and fear. "I don't know how you take it so calmly. I definitely want to learn more about all of this, especially now that I know she is after you... and me."
  Koldan Illarion: "What about you?" he asked, waiting for the question to sink in before continuing, in case she had a chain reaction of memories like he had. "Do you remember anything?" Here inside his mind, his vaguely Russian accent was gone, since thought had no dialects.
  Sin thought about it for a long moment. "Not really... I obviously always questioned my origins, especially since I have a home in Hell, but I never doubted more than now..."
  Sin: Could we have known each other before we met? ... In which context?
  Sin: ...and how could this Persephone know me?