"It wasn't my fault you see." Danya; with his mother and sister watched security footage of the fighting. Danya, was pushing people over, clumsily. Taking blows from all angles.
"I knew my Danya wouldn't have killed these criminals." Valeriya whispered. Holding tight of her child's hands.
"I agree Valeriya. But..." A defence lawyer interjected; young in years, barley looking up from his piles of papers. Hair neatly styled and back, trimmed beard, gentle face.
"But?"
"The jury will take one look at your son, and see a brute." Placing down paperwork.
"But the footage shows him defending himself? Won't that count for-" Valeriya was beginning to grow frustrated at this.
"And the prosecution will spin that however they want. His actions resulted in the deaths of the girl, he should have gone to the police, why was he working there to begin with?" Katya placed her hands over Danya. Her touch comforting in these desperate times. His sister unable to look at him.
"What are our options?"
"A deal has been offered...6 years. To be served in a juvenile prison-"
"But I didn't mean to! They were doing bad stuff!"
"Hush Danya." Valeriya patted on his hands.
"And if we fight?"
"The prosecution is pushing for 20. In a men's prison with a permanent record."
This struck the two. A cold weight from their chest sank to their feet. All were silent. How to avoid the worst-case scenario. To take the deal or to fight and risk losing. Katya was the first to raise.
"Danya... What do you think?"
"I don't want to go to prison. I didn't do anything wrong." Fresh tears ready to flow. "... I..."
"Have courage Danya. Do not fear what you are. Never."
"But- I am-" Tears rolled free, flooding the surface and blurring eyes.
"If we do take this deal. Your records will be wiped clean once you turn 18." Again, Danya started to shake like a leaf.
"Take the deal Danya. They will twist everything against you." Katya whispered without turning her head.
His tears stopped falling. Hands raised up to his face, to wipe the wet tracks away, and his mom rubbed a soothing circle on his shoulder.
"W-Will you visit?"
"Yes. As much as I possibly can." Valeriya couldn't stop her tears. As Danya rose to sign the paperwork, accepting the prosecution's deal. Feeling an immense dread, knowing that the decision made was unjust. However, Valeriya and Katya agreed, with both his mother and sister supporting him.
On that day Danya was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter. Sentenced to 6 years inside.
---
10 Years ago, inside a Juvenile detention centre of Eastern Russia. 4 Years served:
Despite serving an unjust sentence. Time flew by, weeks, months, then years. Often, he waited in his cell; reading and writing. Only the library was Danya's best solace. The other boys often stayed away, not wanting to draw the ire of the near 7ft Danya.
True to her word; Valeriya came to visit Danya every month. Bringing his favourite treats. That would put a smile on any prisoner's face. Although every time she came, her features began to fade, skin wrinkles. A mother who was tired.
When she wasn't able to come for whatever reasons. Katya filled in.
He had yet to see his father again. No matter what was happening at home, never did they speak on it. Valeriya felt her son had enough on his plate.
Then one day. Changed everything. The boys were anxiously sprinting up and down the concrete corridors shouting. "Gates, Monsters!"
"Danya. Quickly get to the common room." One boy spoke with urgency.
"Portals to other worlds have appeared. Russia is currently investigating and is on alert. We urge the people. Stay away from them, until we learn more consider them dangerous."
The boys were full of questions, excited by the prospect. It was like those Japanese or Korean stories. Ones Danya read plenty of, being popular in the library. Curious minds; full of the new wonders of portals and what would be found on the other side.
---
Days later; and envoy of government officials arrived at the facility. Spreading pamphlets to all. Speaking to the warden and then guards and soon spreading the news to all inmates,
'A new chance, a new life. Join the Russian gatekeeping force. Earn your freedom!'
Danya jumped at the offer. 'Freedom. I can see mom quicker.'
Once again, he did not think on the consequences. His young mind lined up with all the other eager boys. Towering over the seated officials. A lady with red hair and black rimmed glasses nearly looked up at a 90° angle.
"H-Here, sign there and there." Danya did not notice the nerves in her. Barley reading the contract; freedom was on his mind. Nothing else.
"Will I leave prison early if I sign this?" His voice like deep drums. Booming in the silence. The other boys waited on his question to be answered. Wanting it as well.
"Um... W-well you see-"
The man seated next to her gave a side eye. Chest of numerous badges adorned his uniform. Black short hair with a scar down his left cheek. A veteran from an older war.
"Yes... You will gain your freedom."
That was it. Danya needed no more. Hand pressing on the sheet, squiggling his name into the form. "Done!" Eagerly awaiting the release of these walls that would come.
Busloads of kids left the facility later that week, nearly depleting the facility to its core. A trip to the unknown. All the boys, spoke, talked of what they would do once inside these magical portals, from becoming adventurers, knights, all manner of excitement and adventures.
Danya was just looking forward to seeing his mama again. Sleeping in his own bed. Eating a beef stroganoff cooked with his mother's love. Perhaps this could all be a fresh new start.
He never saw his mother or the ones he loved again.
***
A large concrete building awaited them. Tall concrete walls and towers of menacing guards. Iron gates opening to a courtyard. Despair, like an iron grip squeezing on his heart.
At least 100 boys filled out of buses, gathered around a strange white orb. Military figures barking for them to line up. Once their shuffling was complete. A bald and sturdy, beast of man stood in front, hardened milky white eyes sweeping over the boys.
"Listen up, you ingrates." His voice, the roar of the sea, bellowing across the courtyard.
"You've been granted a wonderful opportunity." Not an ounce of joy behind his words.
"Touch the orb and receive your power." One by one, they filed like ants; the orb glowed under an overcast sky, boys sorted into groups of A-E. Based purely on rank.
"A-Rank. Juggernaut class. Congratulations. Report to A camp." A woman noted, pushing Danya forwards.
"Um excuse me... When do we get to leave?" Danya looked down with puppy eyes; scared to have broken some rule.
She chuckled. "Leave? Honey, your ours until you reach level 100. Did you not read the contract you signed?" Blood ran cold in Danya's veins, veins and eyes burned as all the colour drained.
"W-wait... the lady said I will have my freedom when I signed!"
A smug smirk on her face. "Yes. after you complete your contract. We can't have criminals running around Russia with powers now. Can we?"
Danya fled, past the other boys, past the guards. No one stopped him.
*Bang* *Bang* *Bang*
"P-Please let me out. I need to tell my mother where I went." Words slurred as hot, heavy, thick, and moist tears broke free. Harder and harder against the Iron gates he pounded; chest slamming into cold metal; pleading to anyone outside.
*Crack*
His head slammed against the gate. Tumbling towards the ground.
"We have a runner already?" The white-eyed commander hovered over him.
"An A-rank Juggernaut; with a heart as soft as pudding." Kneeling to match the still teary-eyed boy.
"Don't worry boy. We will make a real man of you." Patting his back like he was one of the commander's sons.
"Please... I want to go back to my mom..." Sniffling through, heart sinking deeper. Thinking that his mother would never let something happen to her son.
"Don't panic boy. You will see you mother son as a new man. Panic. Yes, that will be your new name. Panic welcome to the Gatekeepers."
"M-my name is Danya-"
*Smack*
"Silence, you are no longer that boy. You are Panic. Welcome to the Gatekeepers."
---
Training was a brutal ordeal, before the boys even looked upon a gate; they spent months training in combat and physical fitness. Drills on hard concrete, from dawn till dusk. Pushed to their limits.
Food was always an odd thing. Feasted like Kings one minute and then starvation like peasants the next. Another means of moulding them into Gatekeepers. Teaching them the trials of long journeys and pushing onward when food is low. Drilling within, they had to give 110% effort, no less was allowed.
Panic; still yearning for his mother's embrace. Every night he cried, every night the other boys were ordered to beat the tears out of the gentle giant. Just one of many ways the officials hardened up their criminals. One day those tears wouldn't spill free.
The initial gates were simple in nature.
Go in, slay the enemies, strip them of resources and return home. Each day, a new gate, more training and less leveling with each day passed. The system was a cruel mistress.
Giant spiders, ant hives, zombies, orcs, and other humanoid species. These were just some of the many instances the gatekeepers would encounter. Slaying hundreds of monsters. All becoming routine; like day-to-day workers in an office. The goal: level up, fulfill contract obligations, work for the motherland.
---
8 Years ago, somewhere in Russia:
"Attention! Today. We shall tackle a B-rank Gate." The commander; who the young men never learnt the name of, boomed over the training field.
"This will be your most challenging endeavour yet. Prepare accordingly." By now there was no longer any enthusiasm. Just cold stares. Hard faces, no more childish excitement, only hard bodies forged by the cruel mistress.
'I would be home now. Mama would be cooking stroganoff. Maybe I could go to the shops with Katya. She loves shopping.' He still wished every night to be back home, but he wouldn't dare show it anymore. Crying now meant a beating until he spat blood. Then breakfast taken away.
Only level 47; not even half way done. How much longer did this go on for. Memories of home seemed only to vanish with each passing day. Katya would probably have a boyfriend. Probably went on to university and left to start a happy life somewhere.
The gate was much like the others, a dark cave system. Moss and green slime slipped down and pooled across the uneven floor. Delving in, a formula they had followed for years.
Quickly coming to what should be the boss chamber. Instead, housed tents of all sizes with banners of a black shield and fist. The group were confused by such a setup. Never had they seen other 'people' within a gate.
A long-haired woman, emerged from a tent. Short with blonde hair that covered her eyes. Terror took her form. Shouting a language unknown to these gatekeepers, she vanished into a tent. Armed with spear like weapons, groups of men piled out; shields and short swords at the ready; crude weaponry pointed forward.
"Complete our mission. Our commander has ordered. Leave none of the monsters alive." Cold words from the captain of the squad. Leading his charge towards these unknown creatures.
Their cries of despair, all but stopped under the Russian's magic, overwhelming by both numbers and coordination, Panic, stood there. Watching men fall.
His commanders order. 'They are monsters that need slaying. Not people. Monsters.' But these are no goblins, monsters, orcs, or animals; but humans.
In the tent women huddled, covering their children. Mutterings of prayers, last breaths being uttered by those wounded. His training taught him, all in a dungeon, in the presence of a gate. Everything must die, every monster slain.
It was as quick as it could be.
"Panic. Are they dead?" One Russian shouted into the tent. Not brave enough to confirm for themselves.
"Да."
***
5 Years ago, somewhere in Russia:
Level 100!
Contract: Complete.
Years were spent amongst dungeons. Earning his freedom at last. A hand slapped against Panic's back. The first kindness shown for a long while.
His squad stood to attention in the courtyard, The commander by his side. A grin spread wide across his wrinkling features.
"Well done, Panic. You have done us proud, serving the motherland well. You are a free man. You can make your own choices."
Panic watched the iron curtain open. Sun shining to the outside. Blinding and searing his eyes with a vibrant glow. A glow he hadn't seen for years, so many endless cycles of killing in dank and gloom.
"Although; the motherland still needs strong warriors. You have the option to remain with us. Fight for the motherland." That voice. Sounded so sweet in Panic's ears. Years of manipulation on display.
"Freedom..." His words without emotion. Taking a step towards his commander.
"I knew you would. You wouldn't abandon your comrades in- Hey! What are you-"
*THUMP*
The commander flew from the square. Jaw crunched shut with broken teeth flung out across the stone floor.
"Wh-What are you doing Panic!" He muttered like a wounded beast. Clutching and clawing at its gaping wound, scrambling for its life.
Panic stood above his fallen commander. Lifting him high above.
*Slam* *Crack*
"ARGGGH- Stop- I command- PLE-" With broken arms he is lifted once more.
*Slam* *Crack*
"AAAAAGHHH! HELP-" Broken legs now, dangling useless, and held up again, by the man who would've never harmed a fly as a boy.
*Crunch*
Once more, the commander barley held onto consciousness. Bones protruded all over the old man's body. Once more lifted into the air.
"I am no longer yours."
*Crunch*
The commander lay in a puddle of his own broken bones and blood. Panic turned away. His squad salute him, dispersing without order. A shared trauma that connects all, a tormentor no more.
---
Free to see his family, Panic travelled; spending his little money on a bus ticket. Then walking. A whole day it took, feet pounding pavement, cars passing. Finally reaching the streets, on which he grew up. Familiar yet somehow not. Was the city always this rundown, trees were still and silent, snow forever buried cars, bins littered the streets.
Black charred brick. The skeleton of his home burned down. Walls barely supporting the remains, the smell of wet and ash still lingered. He stood frozen, staring in disbelief.
Through the ruins and up the stairs; trudging up rotten wood. Panic entered his old, blackened bedroom. Walls littered with charred marks, shelves reduced to piles, bedframe barely standing. A desolate sadness fell upon the empty room.
At the foot of the bed frame, he sat down, charcoaled wood staining trousers. Eyes glued to his bedroom door. Would his mum would rush through, hug her son, shower him with the love he missed?
*Step* *Step* *Step*
Shuffling echoed in the distance. They were getting closer. Panic could feel it, breathing erratic, heartbeat rising.
*Step* *Step* *Step*
*Click*
Before him was an older man. With greying brown hair and facial hair, neatly shaven to style, yet still thin and wiry. Tailored grey and white clothes. An extravagant cane in his hand, clicking as the tip bounced. Familiarity about this man.
"So, the prodigal son has finally returned. Boy." Spitting that last word as though a curse.
Leonid.
"News of your crimes has spread far, boy." Panic remained locked past the man, hoping to see someone else walk in behind him.
"The funny thing is. They're letting you go. The man you killed will die as a scapegoat for the crimes of that division you served." Spoken like a true businessman. Leonid continued with a smile.
"An unjust action, for a just outcome. Something that the boy I knew would give anything for." Shifting towards Panic, but keeping distance.
His eyes softened at the ruins. "I'm sorry my boy. That you must find this. A couple of years ago a gas leak caused this."
Panic had no expression on his face. Last shreds of hope gone with the winter breeze, gliding the ash in his childhood bedroom.
"I have work for you, if you want it. Your choice."
Panic knew better, nothing was free. Standing up to his full height he didn't utter a single word. Yet Leonid still smiled. "For what it's worth Danya. I really am sorry." Brushing past the Russian giant, Leonid clicking cane retraced his steps.
Panic followed without a word. Not looking back once to his home. There was nothing left for him here.