Snow fell gently to the ground, covering the dead bodies with a layer of white. The sky was grey that day, and the peaceful silence was ironic. Just a few minutes ago, gunshots were so loud one could hear them all the way down the mountain. How cruel was nature that day, we would never know, because no one is left to tell. So many good people died, and no one was left to mourn their deaths. None of them would be remembered.
In the midst of the snow, the mess and the smell of blood, stands a little boy, very much alive. His hair is white like the snow, with visible strands of the black color they once were, his eyes are a peculiar purple color, like nothing anyone on the top of the mountain has ever seen. This boy survived the mount OZ massacre. Why him, only nature would know. He would have to be strong to keep the life nature so generously granted him, he was the only one on top of the mountain that could do it. This child is unable of mourning or remembering the people he lived with. His family, his friends, his neighbors. It is cruel and inhuman, but it is the only way to survive in a world like theirs.
***
October 26th 1948
The streets of Moscow are busy on weekdays, everyone is rushing somewhere, weather its work, school, or just away. With the war just recently ending, the country is in ruins. There isn't enough food, there isn't enough men, it's chaotic. People are getting more impatient every day, throwing insults at each other, and occasionally, their fists.
Nobody notices a boy running around, obtaining people's wallets and valuables until an army man shouts "PICK POCKET".
The boy acts quickly, pulling his cap down and running into a narrow alley between two buildings, the army man close behind him. An army man runs fast, but the pick pocket seems to know more about where he is going, turning corners and ducking into abandoned buildings, only to jump out from the other side.
Soon the army mans footsteps are not heard behind the boy, which eases his breathing. He turns another corner to a deserted street buried deep in the cities center. There are five red brick four story apartment buildings, four standing opposite each other, the fifth blocking the path between the buildings at the end. Only loud meowing sounds are heard through the small street, there are no clues anyone lives in any of these buildings.
The boy climbs up a spiral staircase attached to the second building on the left, jumping into an open window on the third story. Climbing in the boy is met with a warm light shining from a lamp on he desk to his right. Even though it is daytime, the sky is grey, and the room is considerably dark. To the left of the room stand two bunk beds side by side, neither of which have a staircase to the top bunk and both look like they are handmade. There are clothes scattered all over the floor and jars of paint standing against the wall.
Voices are heard from the closed door opposite the window, they are loud, accusing. When the thief opens the door loud screaming escapes the small living room/kitchen.
"No you prick, I had it first!" a blond boy screams.
"You ain't the one who bout it!" a black boy screams back.
"How 'bout you both act decent for once, I'm the one that's always cooking around here!" a red haired boy says accusingly.
The voices hush as the boy steps into the room. All eyes are on him now, all mouths are closed.
"What? Cat got your tongue?" the boy smirks "Don't wanna argue no more?"
"Hey Ed" the blond says slowly "You're early"
Edward walks into the room and drops himself into an old armchair across from the three boys.
"I'm guessing one of you got their hands on some meat?" Edward says, taking a drag from his cigarette.
"I got it on my own money" the black boy says "I'm not obligated to share it"
Edward lets out a laugh "Your own money? Where'd your money come from?"
The black boy is quiet.
"Listen I'm the one who steals here. Alec over there" Ed points to the blond boy "sells whatever I steal. And red riding hood" Ed points to the red haired boy "sleeps with some general and gets big bucks out of it. We do it for US, Bryan. Sure you have a part in it too but we share what we've got"
Bryan looks angry "Why the fuck do I gotta give 3/4 of my steak to slut" Bryan points at the red haired boy "Crook" Bryan points at Alec "And thief?" he points at Ed.
THUD. The red haired boy punches Bryan in the face. "I'M NOT A SLUT!" he screams, his face as red as his hair "MY NAME IS YURI. YOU THINK I LIKE FUCKING AN OLD MAN?"
"ARE YOU ALL OUT OF YOUR MINDS?" Edward screams as Alec holds Bryan back "YOU'RE TURNING INTO ELEMENTALS"
Everyone stops at that. They look at each other intensely before looking down at the floor.
"I'm sorry man, I didn't mean it, it's just, today was a crazy day..." Bryan starts.
"Yeh, I'm sorry too Brinna, I kinda am a slut" Yuri confesses.
"Nah man don't say that" Alec puts an arm around Yuri "Bryan, I'm sorry too"
"Well I'm not sorry for shit" Edward puts his cigarette out "We're in deep trouble guys. Today I was chased by an army man, there are so much more of them here nowadays. We gotta be careful with business for a while"
"We just gotta steal from places that don't have people" Yuri says.
"We don't steal from places, we steal from people dipshit" Alec retourts.
Just then the boys hear a knock on the door. They look at each other in a nervous glance as Edward puts a finger on his mouth, signaling for everyone to be quiet as he goes to open the door.
When the door opens with a creak Edward is faced with a tall, muscular man in his 40's who is wearing a black suit.
"Are you Edward Ozone? The surviver of the mount. OZ massacre?" the man asks.
Edward removes his cap to reveal snow white hair.
"Yes" he replies.
***
This plot is quite complicated so I will just explain: this is a post WWII setting you are familiar with, except in this version of the 20th century the war and the chaos is due to elementals, a failed Russian experiment that left the world under the elementals command. This book series is going to tell you about what happened throughout the 20th century to ensure there is going to be a 21st.
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