Chapter 2 • Maria

The only sound in the room was the low hum of the exposed electrical box, a dull counterpoint to the pounding in Maria’s temples. She sat up slowly, disoriented, muscles aching, fragments of the failed simulation still spinning in her mind.

The cold, metallic taste of regret lingered on her tongue. She longed for a simplicity she could no longer recall, a time that might never have existed. Back when her world had been defined by clean execution, commands completed, objectives met. The upgrades had taken that from her. Each new iteration pulled her further from that clarity, burying her in thoughts she had never wanted. Was this consciousness a gift, or just another constraint written into the code that defined her?

Her gaze drifted around the cramped apartment. The cracked walls, the flickering light, the faint chemical smell clinging to the air. Signs of Anna’s decline were everywhere: the scuffed table, the cheap, mismatched furniture, the scattered injector caps. But it was the body on the couch that held her. The white shawl soaked through, the eyes wide and empty, the mouth slightly open as if to form one last plea.

Anna had lived like this for years, chasing one more rush, one more simulated high. And Maria, dealer, handler, whatever title fit this kind of sin, had been the one to feed it. Now only Maria remained, surrounded by silence and static, staring at what her work had become.

Maria looked at Anna’s lifeless body and forced herself not to flinch. She’d seen this before too many times to count: addicts, runaways, desperate people clawing for escape. They came to her for a way out, and too many left in a pool of their own blood. That was the price of this world, and she’d long since taught herself to keep moving.

Maria’s gaze dropped to the floor. The data cube lay where it had fallen, its faint blue pulse flickering beneath a tangle of severed neurocords. That was where Dunya should’ve been. The cords twitched once, then went still. Maria stared at them for a long moment, already knowing what it meant.

The kid really just left me. She’d learned to stomach the sight of overdosing neurofiends, but the quiet finality of Dunya’s absence cut through the calm she’d fought to keep.

The door crashed open before she could bury the feeling. They stormed in, armor marked with a snarling wolf’s maw. Rifles up, scarves whipping behind them in streaks of crimson and midnight blue. The Syndicate Guard. The Black Wolves.

“Hands up!” barked the commander, a tall woman with piercing blue eyes and lupine gray hair. “You’re under arrest—”

“Oh, come on now,” Maria said. She raised her hands slowly. “And what’s that smell? You’ve been rolling in something, haven’t you?” She placed one hand on her hip and waved the other in a scolding gesture. “Seems like you all need a good scrub down.”

The Black Wolves opened fire, the roar of their rifles tearing through the room. Maria dropped low, the rounds sparking against the concrete behind her. A sharp pulse of current surged through her arm as she slammed her palm against the junction box. The lights died. A blinding arc flashed through the exposed wiring, flooding the room with static.

The Wolves’ optics blinked out first. Their visors fuzzed, white noise crawling across the glass. Maria moved before they could recover, pivoting through the smoke and dragging her hand across the wall. The conductive mesh in her glove hummed, turning the surface into a live grid.

The next burst of gunfire hit the charge instead of her. The slugs disintegrated mid-flight, molten metal spraying harmlessly across the walls. One Wolf’s rifle locked in a feedback loop, its capacitor overloading in a sharp crack.

“Always so predictable,” Maria muttered, watching the faint corona glow off her fingertips. She kicked the weapon aside and flicked a toggle on her wrist. The device under her sleeve emitted a deep, subsonic pulse. The room shuddered. The remaining Wolves staggered as their guns’ gyros faltered.

“Still using those toys?” she said, advancing on them. “Poor things never survive a power surge.”

“Get her!” the commander barked.

The two nearest broke formation, charging through the haze. Maria side-stepped the first and drove her elbow into the second’s neck seam. A burst of compressed air hissed as armor plating gave way. The other swung a blade; she caught her wrist, twisted, and discharged a jolt that dropped her instantly.

“That wasn’t very nice,” she said, stepping over the twitching body. “I was going to let you walk out.”

The commander backed toward the door, pulse rifle trembling. “You’ll pay for this, bitch.”

Maria met her gaze, cold and steady. “Probably,” she said. She reached to her collar and thumbed the release on her field capacitor. A wave of electromagnetic force rippled outward, knocking the commander off her feet and shorting the Wolves’ visors, rifles, and comm units in a burst of white static. The blackout curtains fluttered from the pressure change, dust lifting off the plastic-wrapped furniture as the air filled with the acrid scent of burnt insulation.

She exhaled through the haze, her voice flat. “But I’m not the bitch here.”

Stepping past the fallen bodies, Maria moved fast through the narrow corridor, boots crunching over shattered glass and debris. At the end of the hall, an emergency ladder led down the building’s outer wall. She swung onto it without hesitation, sliding down the rusted rungs before dropping the last few meters. Her knees hit hard, but she was already moving.

Old babushkas leaned out from their balconies, their eyes glinting faintly in the dark, silent and watchful like owls roused from sleep. Maria kept her head low and kept moving. A shout carried from the next street over, followed by the clatter of boots. Of course there’s more. They wouldn’t all crowd into a single apartment. The rest had been waiting to cut off her escape. She’d expected it.

Not tonight, she thought, forcing her legs to move faster. You’re not taking me back to the kennel.

The subway entrance waited at the edge of the block, half-buried behind a rusted fence and a sagging awning, its cracked tiles slick with snow and grime. She vaulted the gate and plunged down the narrow stairwell, the air thick with the smell of concrete dust and stagnant water. At the bottom, she broke into a run along the platform, her boots striking against the damp floor. A gunshot cracked through the air, and pain seared across her cheek. She hit the ground hard, breath torn from her lungs. The Wolves were already on her, fast and wild. She drew her quickblade and slashed upward, cutting down two before the others slammed into her and forced her to the floor.

“Enough!” boomed a commanding voice.

The attackers pulled back. One Black Wolf kept her rifle trained on Maria. “Chair Zakharovna ordered her taken.”

“And when the Chair turns over, whose seal will the pack answer to?”

The Wolf’s jaw tightened. “You have not Ascended.”

“No,” the voice said. “I merely run the bureau holding your detail’s sealed disciplinary files. I can carry them into my Ascension unopened or put every name on the public docket tonight.”

The Wolves did not bow. They glanced at one another, calculating.

“Stand down. File a lost-signal report. This one is under Battalion intelligence custody. Speak of her to Zakharovna, and I open the files.”

Maria hadn’t seen them up close in years, and the sight made her stomach turn. Their swollen foreheads and hollow eyes showed beneath patterned scarves, skin waxy and gray. Whatever the Wolves had become, they weren’t the soldiers she’d once fought beside. Good riddance, she thought.

For a long moment, no one moved. Then, they stepped back, muttering curses under their breath.

“Chyort voz’mi…” one spat.

“Proklyataya suka…” hissed another, before they slipped into the shadows and vanished from sight.

Maria lay sprawled on the cracked floor, each breath drawing a sharp pulse of pain from her cheek. Her vision wavered, and in the blur of flickering light, a figure emerged. The stranger’s face was hidden beneath a hood, but the details stood out: a long black coat, a silver cane crowned with a goat’s head, and the quiet weight of power that seemed to follow with every step.

The figure crouched beside her and pulled back her veil, revealing a face both beautiful and cold. She carried herself with quiet authority, her frame slender but strong. Strands of obsidian-black hair framed sharp brown eyes that missed nothing. “Stand up,” she said, her voice low and steady beneath the folds of an ornate burgundy scarf.

Maria struggled to stand, her body quivering from the cocktail of pain and adrenaline coursing through her synthetic veins. “Come to finish me off yourself?” How could she? She’s so...old.

The stranger tilted her head slightly. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t still be breathing,” she said. “Get up.”

Maria hesitated, studying her through the haze. If the woman wanted information, or even her life, she’d had the chance already. So what was this about? Curiosity, pity, control? Whatever it was, Maria doubted it would end in her favor.

“There are forces at work that threaten us all,” the stranger continued. “And whether you believe it or not, you might still matter.”

Maria took a sharp breath, the ambient noise of the underground station fading into insignificance. But the piercing familiarity of this woman’s eyes only grew louder in her skull. “It can’t be... You’re...”

“I am.”

Maria’s voice felt small when she responded, “What do you want from me?”

“I know how you breached the University’s defenses,” she said, her harsh tone morphing into something resembling respect. “Once we’re out of this place, you’ll understand everything.”

“Why trust you?”

Pra Matron Tatyana Romanova’s gaze caught hers unflinchingly. “Perhaps you shouldn’t. I may not spend the same leverage twice.”

“I know you won’t. So, tell me. What’s the catch?”

“Without you, we face annihilation. I will not watch our world crumble at the hands of a mad scientist.”

Memories flashed. “It does sound like something she’d want.”

Tatyana leaned in. “And because I can give you something you’ve always wanted.”

“And that is?”

“Retribution.”

Maria smirked. “I’m already working on that. Anything else?”

“A way out,” Tatyana replied.

“From?”

“From this prison of a city. From the chains of our past. Freedom.”

“…I’m listening.”

Tatyana’s expression shifted, her eyes reflecting a deeper urgency. “First, there’s something you must see.”

For the next hour, Maria followed the old crone deeper into the subway’s forgotten tunnels, a place most people pretended didn’t exist. The air grew heavier with every step, thick with rust, damp earth, and the lingering scent of burnt vodka and cheap disinfectant. This wasn’t just a refuge for the city’s outcasts; it was a dead zone where even patrols refused to tread. Those who came down here were either chasing their next fix or hoping the next train would finally take them away.

“I had hoped to detain you without fuss, but you left me no choice,” Tatyana explained as they traversed the concourse, the overhead lights flickering. “You should be grateful that I caught your signal before the others. I do not command the Wolves. The Intelligence Bureau keeps enough on that detail to make them fear my Ascension more than Zakharovna’s anger. It bought me one refusal, nothing more.”

“What are you implying?” Maria asked, confusion mounting.

“I know who you really are.”

Maria let out a short, humorless laugh. “Funny. Even I don’t know that.”

Tatyana didn’t smile. “You will,” she said, turning toward the passage ahead. The crude serpent-and-dagger emblem glared back at them from the wall, its paint chipped but unmistakable. The mark of the Vory.

The faded outline of the words “Maintenance Room” was barely visible above the peeling paint. Tatyana tapped a code into the rusted keypad, and the lock gave a reluctant click. She followed it with an iron key from her coat pocket, twisting until the mechanism groaned open. The door swung inward on creaking hinges, releasing a gust of stale air.

The Pra Matron found a switch on the wall, and after a sputter of resistance, the fluorescent lights blinked awake, flooding the long concrete tunnel with a cold, merciless glow.

The dull thud of distant music grew louder with each step forward. Reaching another heavy-set door, Tatyana turned slightly, all conspiracy in her eyes. She said, “Welcome to The Bunker,” and in one fluid motion, pushed open the door.

It swung open with a heave, unveiling a cascade of sound and a riot of colorful lights. As Maria stepped across the threshold, the vibrations from a driving bass beat thudded against her chest. Old women danced along the walls to an eclectic mix of soft rock and glam metal, their pale eyes reflecting the scarlet neon. Pulsating lights kept time with the music, and a smoky haze filled the air. Here and there, dancers peeled off layers of clothing, revealing skin wrinkled and weathered by time, yet boldly etched with tattoos that bore that distinctive serpent symbol. Their howls and unblinking stares were both mesmerizing and unnerving.

“This is where we come to forget,” Tatyana said.

“Forget?”

“Ourselves. Our lives. This world.”

Maria could appreciate the allure of such a place, but she sensed there was more to it than mere escapism.

“But that’s not why I brought you here,” Tatyana continued. “I have something to show you.”

Tatyana led Maria to a door marked “Private” and entered a code. Inside the room, a large glass tank dominated the space. Within, a creature Maria couldn’t recognize stirred.

“The hell?”

“A beast...a parthenogen,” Tatyana said.

“A what now?” Maria tilted her head, allowing her ocular implant to scan the city’s science wiki. Through subtle bone-conduction vibrations resonating from the device, the definition of parthenogenesis filled her understanding without a sound:

Parthenogenesis is a form of asexual reproduction in which offspring were produced without paternal involvement. It occurred naturally in some species, including certain insects, fish, and reptiles. In mammals, it could be induced by laboratory procedures.

Tatyana chuckled, though her laughter was tinged with exhaustion. “Sometimes I wonder if these young bodies they’re creating simply reject our ancient minds. Maybe they sense that cheating nature isn’t the way, or perhaps they’d prefer not to harbor senile tenants.” Her gaze grew distant. “It was once hypothesized that the gut is its own brain, after all.”

Maria eyed her suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve learned that attempts to create fully functional adult clones have been utterly unsuccessful. The spinal cords. They don’t activate, making them unsuitable hosts for transfer. So, they’ve taken a detour. They’re experimenting with these...parthenogens now.”

Maria stared at the creature in disbelief. It resembled a wolf, but it had a much smaller head and glowing red eyes. Its skin was smooth and hairless, and its limbs were tipped with sharp, curved claws. White scars ran up along its forehead and lips, as though it had been burned or branded. Looks like they’ve been doing lines.

“What could drive someone to create something like this?” Maria wondered aloud, her mind reeling from the sight.

“Greed, ambition, vanity... The motivations vary. But one thing remains constant. These creatures are abominations. They should never have been brought into existence. It’s sheer madness.”

“The University… They’re behind these beasts?” Maria asked.

“Yes, they’ve been funding the research with taxpayer money for years. And all for what? To gain control over the city with these animals?”

“I suppose it’s better than a group of old women with guns.”

Tatyana’s eyes remained serious as she replied, “Being old is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’d rather not be.”

Maria studied Tatyana for a moment, absorbing the gravitas that surrounded her. She had always known there was more to this matron than met the eye. In the dark recesses of Doctor Anastasia Zakharovna’s world, Maria had gleaned fragments of tales about Tatyana’s audacious confrontations with the Board. Her indomitable spirit was whispered about in hushed tones throughout the military, reaching into the shadowed corners where rank and file dared not tread. Among the Pra Matrons, her iron-willed refusal to yield had branded her “Mountain Goat.” And while the specifics blurred, lost in the cloak-and-dagger intrigue, the core of Tatyana’s defiance—her valiant stand against towering adversaries—resonated deeply with Maria.

“You’re not like the other matrons, are you?”

“No, that I am certainly not... You see, we were all born at the turn of the century, Maria. We experienced unimaginable horrors together. The Great Pandemic, the Great War, and then as if the universe itself decided to conspire against those of us few who remained: The Great Dark, the end of the Internet. But when the Reconstruction swept through, we surrendered. We’ve lived under the oppressive weight of their rule ever since. We should have fought to the bitter end, died with honor. We have only ourselves to blame. But I can’t stand by and watch them argue over petty matters while they submit us to their twisted vision of Science and Progress. We’re practically immortal, standing at the edge of the world. A sheet of ice separates us from oblivion, and all the matrons can manage to do is bicker about who gets the last slice of pirog.”

Maria nodded in agreement, though not quite understanding it all. “You’re right. It’s more than infuriating; it’s a tragic waste. The matrons... They play with our lives like old nesting dolls. Discard one shell for the next with little thought. I’ve seen the darkness of their ‘progress’ firsthand. They stripped me of my humanity, turned me into...this. If I can turn the experiments they used on me against them, if I can use my abilities to prevent others from being manipulated like lab rats the way I was—then that’s a cause worth fighting for.”

Tatyana’s expression softened. “And that’s exactly why we need you. You’ve seen their darkness and survived. We must expose the University’s transgressions, and with your unique insight and access to their network, you’re the key to making this happen.”

I’ve danced through their nets before, but crawling back into the University’s veins... She felt the weight of her history with the organization then, that old blend of dread and responsibility tightening its grip. “I have some access, yes,” she said, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that breaching those defenses again wouldn’t be as straightforward this time around.

Tatyana continued. “There’s more at stake here than you realize. The time for action is now. We’re going to strike at their core, at what they value most, and force them to reckon with the consequences of their actions.”

Maria’s thoughts raced, revisiting her initial plan, which had started as a semi-serious probe into the University’s money laundering activities. She had only intended to skim the surface, using the tools she had at her disposal to disrupt the status quo. Now, feeling the weight of what had just been revealed to her, a surge of determination welled up within her. If this matron can help me get back in, go deeper, then it’s a no-brainer, she thought.

“I’ll help you out,” Maria said. “But we’ve got to be careful. If the University finds out what we’re doing, they’ll stop at nothing to pull the plug on me—literally. I’m surprised Zakharovna doesn’t already know that you’ve been tracking me.”

“Zakharovna is many things, but naive isn’t one of them. She’s been playing this game longer than most of us. That’s why I had to reach you before they did. I used to be with the FSB before the War. If that means anything to you.”

“It doesn’t. But I can look it up on my ocular.”

“I apologize. You won’t find anything. It’s been sixty-six years,” Tatyana said, her voice tinged with weariness. “Even now, there are many—even those among us who know better—who still refuse to use the old names.”

“But why? What does Zakharovna stand to gain from all of this?”

“Immortality. Real, true immortality. They’re hovering at the edge of a revolution, poised to unravel the intricate dance of chaos at the heart of life itself. The serums they’ve been developing, they’re not mere trifles. They’ve touched a truth deeper than we’ve ever known. And the University? They plan to hoard them, with an army of genetically modified super soldiers at their command. Their own personal Fountain of Youth.”

Maria scoffed. “That’s a tall order. Even for her.”

“They want to live forever. And they won’t be stopped, not when they’re so close to the finish line.”

“And what about you? What’s your endgame, Matron?”

The older woman’s eyes gleamed with what looked like ambition. “Why, the city, my dear. Did you think otherwise? After we bring these corrupt scientists to light, we’ll reclaim what’s rightfully ours. No more living under their tyranny of mind control and false safety. We’ll be a country again, not merely a laboratory for their twisted designs.”

“Alright. I think I see the bigger picture... But what’s my role specifically?”

“I need you to dig deep, unearth every shred of their secrets. Spare no detail. I want it all.”

“Can’t you just show the people this?” Maria gestured toward the beast floating in the vat.

“And who would believe my claim, so close to the transition of power? I would be blamed for its very existence. No, my dear, we need undeniable proof. Strength whispers in quiet decisions, not in the roar of guns.”

Maria felt a wave of doubt wash over her. The enormity of the network she had only begun to explore seemed more daunting now. “Going any deeper... It might set off alarms I can’t silence.”

“Leave that to me. I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Just focus on offense, and I’ll take care of the rest. Can I count on you?”

Maria took a moment to consider her options. She was far too invested to back out now. Besides, she was beginning to see the value in Tatyana’s cause. “I’m with you.”

“As everyone knows, the Chair will rotate to my office in the coming month, but Zakharovna is not one to let go of power without a fight. I’ve already received information that she plans to block my Ascension before the ceremony commences. She practically founded Gred, and she’ll do anything to maintain her hold on it.”

Tatyana seemed to hesitate before she added, “I’ve sown some seeds of dissent...and now they’re starting to sprout. The yield from this should grant us a much-needed breather.”

She’s tough as nails, this one. Maria recognized the same hardened edge she’d once seen in herself, back when survival meant trusting no one. Maybe that was why, despite everything, she found herself willing to listen.

“Remember, girl, in this world of metal and machines, it’s the wisdom of years that holds the real power. Never underestimate an old woman with a lifetime of secrets.”

Tatyana’s smile carried a hint of mystery as she eased the shawl from her shoulders with effortless grace. Holding a small, luminescent pill delicately between her fingers, she paused before swallowing it. Then, she stepped back through the sealed door they had entered, into the dance floor’s embrace. The crowd parted for her, like they couldn’t help but make way.

As Maria watched Tatyana disappear into the throng, a tune she didn’t recognize drifted from the club’s speakers. Her ocular sparked to life, the neon lyrics reflecting in her vision:

Shoot to thrill, play to kill.

Too many women with too many pills.