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THE MONSTER OF EALING
Last night, several people reported the sighting of a "screaming red monster" in a quiet neighbourhood of Ealing. After a power shortage in the area, a building caught fire. It was then when, what was described as a "man shaped, footless creature" emerged from the flames, leaping, running, and screaming. One woman has told our reporters that the man had "teeth like a wolf, and the face of the devil". Police officers are still trying to get to the bottom of this; neither the power shortage nor the fire have still been explained. A spokesperson from Scotland Yard has stated that the "so called monster" might be a wounded person, escaping the fire.

TRAGEDY IN TOOLEY STREET
The police has found the bodies of three TFL workers in the construction site at Tooley Street. One of their colleagues raised the alarms last week, when the three workers didn't attend their shifts. The bodies of the men have been found in a deep hole, uncovered by the refurbishment works that are taking place in the area. According to the Police, the bodies were horribly mutilated, which has led to the wildest speculations. The names of the three workers are being kept anonymous, following the wishes of their families.

HOROSCOPE
MARCH 8 - PISCES
You are used to making sacrifices, to prioritising the happiness of others before yours. Even though that is a noble attitude, there are times in life where the only healthy alternative is to embrace your own selfishness and allow yourself some enjoyment. Reserve one hour per day to do something you really like. Treat yourself! Your colour for this month is blue.
Echoes from the past ring back into London. Their intensity increases until they are deafening. What once was a faded memory of a glorious time, now becomes a shocking reality. The consequences of actions taken decades ago ripple into the present, altering the lives of everybody in the City. Unguided and blind, Kindred wander around, trying to make profit out of the reigning chaos.


The appearance of four mysterious figures turned the city upside down. Mistrust and jealousy became the official currency of London. Serpents and fiends rise to power, misdirecting the blaming eyes of the Camarilla towards imaginary enemies. Only those with clear vision and the ability to trust each other strive, while the rest run towards a shallow grave.



Across The Board
Current Chronicle: Dragons and Lions; Pride and Fire
Current Season: Spring
Controlling Sect: Camarilla



Index
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South London
Miscellaneous
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Population: 31

Camarilla
Anarchs
Other
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 5 (6)
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 7
Tremere: 2
Nosferatu: 3
Gangrel: 1
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 0
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 0
Nosferatu: 1
Gangrel: 1
Setites: 5
Sabbat: ???


THE CAMARILLA

Prince

Nobody

Sheriff
Meredith Furlong
Hounds
Robyne Sheridan
Rosella Marie Allain


Keeper of Elysium
Davvad Bisset

Grand Harpy
Catherine Wilke

Primogen
Ventrue: Marcus Antonio Russo
Brujah: Thomas Krusen
Gangrel: Alexa Mallik
Malkavian: Ellora Reese
Tremere: Hannah Sundling
Toreador: Arsenio Pozzi
Nosferatu: Dogan Khojak



ANARCHS

Baron

Khoza

Baronets
Enfield: Leslie
Haringey & Barnet: Clarice Harris
Harrow: Jelena Korolenko

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Welcome To The Night

You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality.

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Accommodation and food provided...; Attn: Ilya (NSFW) (Completed)
Topic Started: Saturday, 10. January 2015, 08:05 (2,640 Views)
Rui
Yuri's machine no. 3
*
THE HALLS OF MEMORY
RAGS FOR SOCKS

Fallout...

It was cold. So cold. But it was not from the cold, that his body shook.

When they fell against the wall, Rui looked at Yuri; like his friend, he checked his riffle, his trembling hands imitating the other's movements. There was no getting out of there. Sooner or later, it would be them. How many bullets could you avoid? Or they'd get sick. It was already a miracle that he didn't have a pneumonia yet.

The shell-shocked eyes, of someone who'd seen too much, watched as more fell nearby: blood splashing in the rain as parts of bodies burst from the impacts of the bullets, the living coming to a halt and contorting in a last, sinister dance, the next moment lying in the mud with fixed expressions on their faces.

A shadow blocked the view...

"Survive. Whatever happens, survive. Be adaptable; whatever you believe, whatever you think... that's not important. If you don't survive, my death will be meaningless."

Rui raised his head, his empty eyes which could shed no more tears affixed on his Mentor. "Yes... but you won't die, Yuri," he said, feeling that survival to this insanity was suddenly, not only possible, but imperative.

I won't let you...

"You cannot remain here, Rui, your father--

"Father's not here. He's in heaven now, and we need money."

A sense of dread at the sound of footsteps approaching. The bodies had to be searched for anything that could be salvaged. Socks?

Pulling out his mother's handkerchief, Rui shoved it in one of Yuri's pockets. "Survive," he echoed, in a murmur, before following that one step for step, as they ran from the enemy, meandering in between a destruction that they'd come to be familiar with. They needed to find a shelter, and food for the night. They needed to survive.

He needed to survive.


THE HALLS OF MEMORY
ROOMS WITHIN ROOMS

Under the dark, stormy sky, as he looked down on the warehouses, and upon what lied within, Rui understood that this was the other world. That of Yuri. The first one. Where the machines were made. In the transparent boxes were the freshly created ones; new machines whose fates had not yet been decided. The boys watching them had grown, just like the girls watching the boys. This was where it all started.

This was under what was under the glass. The world under the world. What no one saw. What the machines didn't remember when they were let out into the world. It was the land of Yuri. Their God. His Mentor. One day they would all have doors and stairs, from which pick, to cross and climb. They would all have a part to play. The ones that survived.

Rui must be getting closer to having his, because he was now in one of the high towers. He had eyes, and looked like a finished machine. He had clothes, and even a gun... and sox.

All of a sudden, a jeep took on some speed, making for one of the lines; Rui adjusted the sniper rifle, closing one eye as his aim came upon the malfunctioning machine's head...

He hesitated to shoot; closed his eye; heard the vehicle gaining more speed; thought of the explosives...

"Survive. Whatever happens, survive. Be adaptable; whatever you believe, whatever you think... that's not important. If you don't survive, my death will be meaningless."

The right eye shot open; a small last adjustment; he fired, sending the jeep crashing in the closest warehouse.; another cloud of smoke coming up above the warehouses in the distance.

Ever aware of it, Rui lowered his rifle and turned to stare at the camera, deep within the lens... lovingly.

Are you there? Did you see?


REALITY
SOUP LAYER

"I want that"

Rui ate his soup quietly, as slowly as he could despite the fact that he'd been starving, hidden behind curtains of hair, hearing the girl every now and then. He'd not slept in so long that he had trouble getting his mind to work, the feel of normalcy coming from the television screen creating an entrancing effect which pulled at him as well.

However, he remained silent, enjoying his meal as he wolfed down the comforting soup...

It reminding him of something.

He was still shaking, but feeling warmer now. When the 'I want that' stopped, feeling her eyes on him, he turned to look at her.

"You have pretty hair. I like it. I Olga. You?"

His lips parted for a reply - but she wasn't done...

" ...Let's play. You wash my feet with your hair, and then I wash your feet with my hair. Fun. Come."

He blinked, watched as she bolted - and suddenly something snapped in him. She made good soup, like mamãe; she'd lost her mind like mamãe; she liked his hair, just like mamãe - but mamãe was dead...

A series of flashes: a priest at a funeral service; a strange room in a hotel; a golf course...

Rui tried to put his now empty bowl on the sofa, but it fell to the floor, and he to the ground as he made to stand, violently emptying the content of his stomach...

She was coming back! He could hear the water running...

Grabbing onto the sofa, he managed to make it up and, once more, dashed for the exit, as best he could, eyes filled with tears - as much from the pain in his body, as the fear which now griped his heart. Open, open, open! he ordered the door, as he again tried to open it.

And it did.

"Survive. Whatever happens, survive. Be adaptable; whatever you believe, whatever you think... that's not important. If you don't survive, my death will be meaningless."

The water stopped in the distance.

Shaking form exhaustion, Rui stepped out into the sunset, saw the warehouses, and his tears fell low on his cheeks as he instinctively looked up for the towers.

No...

He couldn't see them, but he knew they were there. He had to find Yuri. His bare feet on the hard ground, the cold air seizing his weak body, he moved with his back to the wall, to try and avoid the shooters. He didn't even have rags for his feet, he reflected keeping his ears open for jeeps.

"Survive. Whatever happens, survive. Be adaptable; whatever you believe, whatever you think... that's not important. If you don't survive, my death will be meaningless."

His heart now pounding in his chest, he made a run for it... he didn't know where he was going, but made for the noise in the distance, uncaring of the cold that was now biting at his feet as he stepped in puddles, the leash which dangled form his collar, or the pain from his now empty stomach, the desperation of his situation giving him the courage to brave the jeeps in the distance...

And finally, they came into view: jeeps, machines...

"Survive."

He raised his hands, trying to reach for one of the machines. "Help..."

He tried to reach for others. They all moved away, looking at him as if he was about to be shot and they didn't want to die with him...

He ran some more, in the noise of the second world, the one where machines had doors and stairs... he had to find the right ones. He had a choice... He had to find the ones that lead to Yuri.

Yuri would help him.


UNDER THE GLASS
IN ONE OF THE BOXES

Rui's body had stopped shaking. The sound of the siren was fading now, as he was being rolled on something. He was in one of the boxes, so Yuri would see him. He'd survived. He'd know.

"John doe; early twenties we estimate; heart rate elevated; body temp. at 32°C falling; lesions at wrists; no ID..."

His eyelids were forced opened, light blinded him; a burning pain in his left arm...

Another voice, deeper: "Sir, can you hear me? What is your name please?"

Dry lips parted. "Yuri..."

A warm blanket...

"You'll be alright, Yuri. What's your last name, please?"

"Chandler..."

More orders were given, as he was being handled, eyes remaining closed as machines moved around him; his collar was removed; there was a burning sensation around his right wrist...

He was so tied.


REALITY
IN MORPHEUS' EMBRACE

The young man was restrained to an operating table, in a red room. The deep cuts at his wrists and ankles were painful. He was cold, and completely drenched, wearing nothing but a Russian uniform, and rags around his feet.

"Where did you find him?"

He'd been caught by the enemy. Shot from one of the towers. He'd promised that he'd survive, but he'd failed. He hoped that Yuri had made it out, and that he'd found some sox. He couldn't move; they'd drugged him; they would open his head up to change his circuits; machines operating on machines; they didn't understand that all he needed was some blood. He just needed some blood. Yuri's blood.

He should have played golf. He should have helped Mr. Khoza to learn. He should have saved Olga from the rat. He should have shot the rat. He needed to go back and shoot the rat. And save Olga. And get her some warm clothes. And buy her what she wanted from the tele.

But first he needed to find Yuri. He missed his Mentor. He needed to see him. He needed his blood or he would die. Yuri could change his circuits back. After all he was his God. No one else had the right to keep him. He should have stayed in the grotto. But it was alright. Yuri could see him. He was probably looking down on him now, with his strict, benevolent gaze...


REALITY
ALFIE and ELEANOR CHANDLER LAYER

"You know me. We've been here before. Remember? You know me. You owe me. I own you. Remember."

Rui woke up with a start, and opened his eyes. He felt dazed, as if drugged. His eyes slowly moving left, to a seating area where an elderly couple sat before a fire; and he listened, from the bed, as they spoke in hushed tones...

"But Alfie, they said he didn't have drugs in his body, and he was wearing a collar. And he's wounded..."

The boy's grandfather raised a brow. "The boy was never right, you know that. It's that bloody mother if his! Would she only have gone sooner we could have raised him right!" And he certainly blamed the Brazilian beauty for everything: not merely Rui's situation, but his son's early death as well. Everything was her fault.

In fact, when the hospital had called to tell him that they thought they had his grand-son, he'd not been surprised. The Baronet had pulled on every strings he'd had to get the boy to his townhouse, and to tidy up any concerns that the police might have had, lying as much as he'd had to. Three hours later, when Rui's condition had stabilized, he'd been taken 'home'.

"Not so loud, dearest," Eleanor sighed, turning her head towards the bed.

The young man hurried to close his eyes, listening on...

"I still don't think it was right to lie to the police... But I suppose it's better than a scandal," she allowed, picking up her tea cup on the coffee table between them. "Do you suppose we should go back to the country now?"

When he tried to move, Rui found himself unable to do much. Under the blankets were hospital straps, keeping him comfortable, but restrained.

What the hell...

A nurse came in, and made her way to the bed; a hand ran under the covers, and she pressed an index to his right wrist... There was a needle in his arm, he could feel it. Bandages around his wrists and ankles. And he was hungry... but not for food. It was something else, eating at him, making him salivate...

Alfie Chandler Senior turned to look at the nurse. "We'll leave in the morning. It's too late now," he said, bringing his attention back on his wife.

"Yuri..."

Everyone turned to look at Rui, the nurse with a start, Alfie Senior standing and turning towards the bed, Eleanor nearly dropping her cup.
Edited by Rui, Sunday, 12. April 2015, 21:35.
Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B
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Tsar Ilya the First
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Claiming Tsar
* * * *
REALITY
ME MINUS X

Alfie and Elleanor received the visit of the Doctor, that night. They were very concerned about Rui escaping again, and about his mental condition, so they had made some calls to some friends. This Doctor had helped their friends correcting the rebelliousness of their kids. At first, Alfie and Elleanor were very concerned; they didn't want the Doctor to mess with Rui's head, as they did in the old times, with the ice pick and the hammer... they just wanted the kid to learn the lesson, and to have control over his movements, nothing else. Just innocent control.

The Doctor had left in the table several Army leaflets, things the Chandlers did not understand well, until he started explaining his plan. It was monstrous, but it accomplished all that the Chandlers wanted for Rui. Not only they would have full control over his life and his whereabouts, but he would also be still articulate and able to entertain the visits. On top of that, they were going to provide him with a glorious background, something to boast about. Nobility. Courage. Rui, the feeble rebellious kid, transformed into a proper war hero. All by the magical hands of this saintly man: the Doctor.

They needed five minutes to make a decision. After two minutes, they knew what they wanted. They signed the documents, and pointed at the door where Rui was resting. The Doctor, with his beatific smile, grabbed his case and went inside, reassuring them that everything was going to be alright, in the long run. The door closed.

The Chandlers heard the screaming, but they didn't dare crossing the door, or stopping the Doctor. They knew what he was doing, with all the beautiful terms he had used to explain it to them, and yet they were fine with it... somehow. Removing the temptation to do evil. Removing the temptation to disobey. Removing the temptation to go where evil lies. Removing the temptation of running away. Removing the temptation of ending his own life. Removing his arms. Removing his legs. Only his head and his manhood remaining as appendages protruding from that thin torso. The head to ensure his survival, and his ability to tell his fantastic war stories. The manhood to ensure his ability to preserve his lineage, and as a last line of defence against temptation. Should the new Rui disobey the voice of his kind and loving grand parents, he would see his last bit of 'himself' being removed from his body as well. After turning him into a torso, Rui would surely believe the threat. No doubts about it. In compensation, they would make sure his pleasure urges were satisfied at all times, by weekly calling the services of professionals of Rui's choice. Wasn't that a dream come true?

After some gruelling hours of horrifying screaming, the door opened. The Doctor was covered in blood, but smiling. The operation had been a success. Rui had been transformed into the obedient child the Chandlers wanted to take care of. He would need a few months to recover, out of the public eye. During that period, the old couple would have the chance to live the fantastic and fascinating experience of re educating the child, of letting him understand that his best chances at happiness lied within the war stories they had prepared for him, the stories about him stepping in a landmine to save his commanding officer, and losing his limbs in the process. He would be so happy, if he obeyed them...

Hours after the terrible operation, Rui was waken up, and placed in front of a mirror. That was a part of the process: letting him understand what has he turned into. His head hurt like crazy, hungover by all the brandy the Doctor had used as anaesthetic. What an old school gentleman, this Doctor! Lying in a rubbish black bag beside him, Rui could see his old arms and his old legs, barely covered. They were left there on purpose, so he understood that his former impulses were just that: rubbish. Now that he was in the deep end, rebuilding his personality would be much easier for the loving Chandlers.

They were indeed an adorable family.
Languages:

Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German

Oleg's Voice

You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza.
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Rui
Yuri's machine no. 3
*
REALITY
ME MINUS X

He'd asked politely, and again; and then he'd gotten upset, which came down to asking politely, but more insistently.

But they had not let him free. He'd said that he needed to use the restroom, thinking that he'd get a chance to make a run for it; but he'd ended up with the nurse bringing a metal container so that he could urinate - and thoroughly humiliated.

Then some servant had come to get them, saying that there was a visitor; and he'd been left with Annie, his nurse who kept on smiling at him, and made him think of Olga.

"Now you come with me, and you be good. Don't run away. Yes? I give you soup."

Gathering his courage, he smiled back, shyly. "Annie, could you just loosen the strap at my right arm, it's a bit tight," he said in his soft voice. "I think it's cutting off the blood," he lied in the same British accent.

The red headed haired girl moved closer, lifted the covers, and checked with a small frown. "No, Mr. Chandler, it's right as rain," she said, her hand remaining on Rui's a bit longer.

"Untie me please. Just for a minute. I won't go anywhere, I promise," he murmured in a tone of confidence, looking up at her with some pleading in his eyes. "This is illegal, you know."

"But I'll lose my job, I will, if I set you free. You're not well, Mr. Chandler," she informed him with the most adorable Irish accent.

"I'm an adult, Annie. My grandparents--

But suddenly, the door was opened and Annie was called out as well.

Left alone, the young man began pulling at his restraints to try and free himself, teeth clenched as he struggled with all of is might - but nothing gave. He had to...

Rui laid his back on the pillow and sighed deeply.

He had to find Yuri... his Mentor. He'd made it, he'd survived, Yuri would be proud of him. But he'd not found him... maybe he was on the beach... Or in the grotto, where it was safe. Where Yuri would give him some blood; because without the blood, he'd die. Looking up at the ceiling, he wondered if his God could see him.

"I want that."


He closed his eyes, and tried to remember the last thing that Yuri had said so him...

"Thank you, my friend. You have given me the strength to complete this journey. Now we both have purpose, and a reason to be in this world. I promise you that, if you ever lose your way, I will be there to remind you that your life has a meaning. I owe you that much."

The door opened again, but the young man didn't open his eyes. He was trying to piece things together. He'd been in Brazil, with his friend and Mentor; Yuri had made him see what he was... probably; he'd made him see the world as it was really; they'd been at war together; he'd killed for him; and there was some dream about a golf course... Because he couldn't have met Yuri there, he'd known him for much longer... Mr. Khoza was...

When he felt something falling on the bed beside him, he finally opened his eyes - and his shock was so great that, for a moment, he said nothing. He smiled then, as Yuri did something. It didn't matter, he was there now. "I survived, Yuri," he said, his voice low and filled with love.

Yuri brought something to his lips; hoping for blood, Rui chocked on the brandy, but was made to drink the whole flask.

But all was well because Yuri was smiling. He was not angry with him. He was giving him brandy; he was rummaging through his bag; he was holding a saw. He was removing the covers. He was bringing the blade of the saw to just under his shoulder...

HE WAS CUTTING!!!

HE WAS CUTTING HIS ARM OFF!!!

The bloodcurdling screams echoed throughout the house, intertwined with heartbreaking lamentations and bouts of "No Yuri!' "Please Yuri" Please stop Yuri!" "I'm Sorry, Yuri!" "I didn't mean it, Yuri!" "I'll never run again, Yuri!" "Oh God, stop Yuri!" "I beg you, Yuri!"

Flashes of the past came to him, in the midst of his agony, as he watched skin, muscle, viscera, blood, bone, being detached form his body, his head dazed with the brandy, and so even weaker at enduring the terrible pain...

" ...Yesterday I took a walk through the harbour, late at night. I just couldn't sleep, and I decided to walk. After half an hour, some beggar came to me, asking me for money."


"Machines have no free will, and yet they are programmed to believe they do. If you want to put it this way, they don't have a soul. But they are still useful. They even have their own identities, and their own ideas. They can even be creative. Are you creative, Rui?"





When he was awoken, there were no more straps; but then, there was no more need of them.

He began shaking as he was lifted up and placed before the mirror - and the trembling redoubled as he watched himself, tears falling on his face, as he began to weep silently, in complete despair...

"I promise you that, if you ever lose your way, I will be there to remind you that your life has a meaning."

He'd come to remind him.

"Don't despair, child. The road to acceptance is long and complicated. You can find support in me, as much as I find support in you."

He should have washed her feet with his hair...

"Do you see it now? True freedom is the prerogative of a few. The world is not organized around the idea of freedom, but around the idea of functionality. The ground is there to support your weight, and the sky is there to give you perspective. They are functional. They are not free. A prey is a prey because it serves the predator, and a predator is a predator because it serves the prey. They are nothing without each other. They are not free. Each corner of this world is filled with purpose. Why is it so bad to have a reason to exist? Machines have a justification for their whole existence, and that is a good thing.

Lowering his head, unable to wipe the tears form his face, or even move from where he was, suffering from the pains of his phantom limbs, pain radiating in his head, his eyes fell on the bag, and on what he could make out of his arms and legs...

"Put me back together, Yuri," he said choking on a sob, his breathing uneven. "Please, I'll be a good machine, I swear... Functional... Not free, just functional... I understand now...I swear," he went on, looking up as his Mentor, some of his long hair stuck to his face, trying in vain to control his sobbing. "I know you. I remember now. I know you. I owe you. You own me. I remember, Yuri...

I remember..."
Edited by Rui, Saturday, 18. April 2015, 00:27.
Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B
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Tsar Ilya the First
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* * * *
ANGLE SWITCH

How the hell did that happen? The two terrified ghouls were shaking, staring at the floor. They had tried to blame it all on each other, but it was no use. Ilya didn't care about finding who was to blame, he just wanted solutions. So far, he had gathered that Rostik had gone out to buy some groceries and, as he was exhausted, had forgotten to lock the main door. Olga, on her side, had let the new servant free, while she cooked him soup. No surprise, the new project had escaped. With a leash to his neck. He was a massive risk now, as he could direct any of his enemies to his fortress. It was a disaster. And it all had happened while he was sleeping, just a few meters away, underground.

Ilya felt ashamed for his lack of control over the situation. And his two servants... He really didn't know what to do with them. A punishment could teach them a lesson, but it also could terrify them further, paralyzing them and making them even more incompetent. Talking to them... that was out of the question. Reprogramming them would require a lot of work, and it could fail. They had thrown each other under the bus, and made a very big effort to make sure he punished the other one. He decided.

"You two: fight. Whoever hurts the other one first, will not be punished."

Rostik's face lightened up, as Olga's twitched in terror. Ilya tried to decipher the facial expressions. He walked to the kitchen area, grabbed a large knife, and put it in Olga's hand. Now it should be balanced. Olga smiled wildly, while Rostik went pale. In less than one minute, Olga had a bruise on her face, and Rostik had a knife plunging out of his shoulder. Ilya fed them both simultaneously while his mind moved on.

He made both of them go out, and find the new guy. They had his wallet with his ID, so it was just a matter of time before something came up. Meanwhile, he went to his room, and studied the footage of his escape. He could see him walking the streets through the security cameras. Rui collapsing, and an ambulance stopping beside him. The ambulance was lost in the traffic. North Middlesex University Hospital was the safest bet. He switched the cameras on his screen to check out the recordings of the hospital. After a few minutes, he saw the same ambulance entering the building. He texted both Rostik and Olga to make sure they knew where they were going.

An hour went by without news, and then another hour. After a long wait, Olga called him with some information. Rui was gone. Her poor command of English didn't make her job any easier, but some night shift nurse was all for helping out the pretty damsel in distress. According to the nurse, Rui had been taken by some family members. This could be a dead end.

The rest of the night proved to be unsuccessful. Just before going to sleep, he made it clear that he didn't want Rostik to sleep in a whole week, as a punishment for letting Rui escape.

The day after, they started the search again. First without Ilya, then under his supervision. They tried to find any information available on Rui and his family. Rostik was put in a plane to Brazil, while Olga visited the family's properties. Three days went by in the bat of an eye, and Rostik had nothing to show for. His face looked more and more gaunt in the screen, and his voice was breaking, but he had no results to yield. Olga, on the other hand, had a new lead.

She had somehow managed to pinpoint the location of Rui's grandparents' residence in London. They usually lived in the countryside, but they were coincidentally visiting London these days. She went to their house, pretending to be a charity worker, but she was promptly dismissed by the servants of the family. This meant that Ilya's direct intervention was needed.

He pondered if a suit was better than a tracksuit for this situation. After all, Rui's grandparents were apparently rich and powerful. But he chose the classic red tracksuit. He was not playing visits, but fixing a broken piece of machinery.

A cab took him to the rich house in Primrose Hill. He knocked on the door, and made sure the servant opening let him in and followed him around. His majestic aura facilitated the whole process. He walked through the halls and the corridors of the house, looking for his lost servant. Behind him, an ever growing army of fanatics, willing to help him in any way imaginable. He found the grandparents, already in bed, and made them get out and point him to the room where Rui was resting. He left the whole army, everybody in the house, in the living room, while he crossed the door that separated him from his new tool.

He was not ready for what he saw. The show in front of him was unnatural, beastly. Rui transformed into a sad torso, staring at a rubbish bag on the floor. The rubbish bag filled with his lost limbs. All of that happening while his grandparents were peacefully asleep. It didn't make any sense. Why blunting a tool that way? Why depriving it of its natural functions so brutally? Rui stared at him, terrified. Somehow, in his half cooked brain, he had grown to imagine that Ilya had been the one amputating his arms and legs. That didn't make any sense.

Ilya had to make a decision. Either he destroyed this tool, and everything around him, or he saved it, and helped it recover from the savagery that had been imposed upon it. He had already invested a great deal of effort, and his two current servants had proven to be not so competent lately. But helping this tool regrow all his limbs would take a lot of blood. That was a complicated decision. The economics of heroism were piling up against Rui's survival quite fast. Ilya walked out, into the room where all the people in the house were waiting for him. They were seven people; the two grand parents, and five servants. He stared at the women, hoping any of them was pregnant. Luck seemed to escape him that night. He decided to make them work for him. One by one, he stared at them, right in their eyes, and made them understand that they needed to go out and bring home a pregnant lady, as part of a very fun game. They liked the idea of playing a game with him, of all people. He only spared the two grand parents... they still needed to explain him what had happened there.

After the servants left, Ilya went back to Rui's room. He had made his decision. He would save this machine. There was some part of him that was revolted upon the savagery imposed on that tool, disgusted by the stupidity of such an act. He needed to correct that event, and to make sure the people responsible for it were also corrected. A massive amount of reprogramming was necessary, at that point. He opened a wound in his own wrist, and put it in front of Rui's mouth, letting blood flow. Thus, under the most unexpected circumstances, away from all the fireworks of Ilya's implanted memories, the blood bond was fully established. The Senkin could feel the connection getting stronger, and the sensation of dependence becoming a reality he could touch and taste.

Convincing Rui that he had not been the one doing the butchery was no use. It would only confuse him further. The only thing he could do was healing him, and letting him understand what was going on in the most realistic and brutal terms possible.

He sat down with Rui's grandparents, and had a short chat with them. They were eager to confess, still under the effect of Ilya's Majesty. The talked about that mysterious Doctor, and about the plan to turn Rui into a DIY war veteran. Ilya understood. They were trying to sacrifice the physical usefulness of Rui as a tool, in exchange for the potential of a social advantage. A simple shift in their resources pool. In the process, however, they were depriving their grandson of his freedom and his pride. Not that Ilya cared much about that, but he couldn't help feeling a pang of despise. Family was, at the end of the day, the most valuable concept for him. These grandparents made him think about his own sire, Roman, under a light that was slightly more positive than usual. Roman had never tortured him in such a way. He had nearly destroyed his mind, and he had sent him to die alone against a whole Sabbat Pack, but he had never denied his own cruelty. That sort of honesty was very valuable. And it was totally missing in the Chandler's story. These two benevolent old aristocrats were absolutely convinced that they were doing the right thing. There was no shadow of a doubt about it. They even assumed that Rui would end up thanking them for that. Their blindness was making him feel sick.

He wrote down the contact details of the Doctor, and made the couple walk into Rui's room. He instructed them to look at their grandson, to appreciate the beauty of their creation. The machine was staring at them back, tears still flowing from his eyes. He walked behind the grandfather, and plunged his eyes out. The grandmother tried to scream, but Ilya hold her mouth in a swift movement. Using his spare hand, he ripped her eyes, one by one, off her face. Rui's parody of a body was the last thing they were going to see. He would make sure of that. During this whole process, Ilya was staring at Rui's eyes, looking for reactions he could understand. He grabbed the eyes, and fed them to the old couple. He could not Dominate them now, but there was no need for that. He dragged their bodies to a corner, and fed them a bit of his blood, just enough to keep them alive.

The first servant arrived, followed by a confused pregnant woman who had been told she would be given money if she came. She was obviously from a lower social status, which made Ilya wonder where had this servant gone to fetch her. It didn't matter. He fed Rui with nearly all his blood, and then dragged the lady to the room. In front of his him, without saying a word, Ilya bore his fangs and bit his dinner. He drank her dry, and let the corpse collapse in the floor. Then he fed Rui a bit more of blood.

This process was repeated five times during the night. The pile of corpses was growing, and Ilya was not speaking. He only used his voice when instructing any of the flesh machines to do something he needed, such as following him, or closing their eyes. The rest, was silence. After the last one, Ilya checked the time. He still had a couple of hours before sunrise. Good enough. He went to the servants and, one by one, he snapped their necks. They were going to die anyway, so it was better to make it quick and hassle free. He called one of his cabs, and instructed the driver to park inside of the house's parking. Then he checked the video security system. Deactivating it was a matter of minutes. His next step was to distribute the bodies, staging them to make it all look like something the flesh machines would do. He loaded Rui's body in the trunk of the cab, and the blind grandparents on the back seat with rags stuffed in their mouths to stop their annoying whining. He told the driver to wait while he went in and finished staging the house. The only thing missing was a spark, and he was not going to be around to see that. A simple call to Olga, and the problem was solved. He boarded the cab, and went to his fortress, with three mutilated Chandlers travelling with him.

45 minutes later, the Chandler's house in Primrose Hill was on fire. That area was not like most of the rest of London; firemen were actually involved in making it safe for the residents, and their response time was exemplary. Still, they could not put out the fire before it consumed most of the essential clues to determine what happened there that night. The police investigation concluded that the servants of the house were all involved in some sort of satanic ritual that involved draining the blood of young pregnant ladies. The pentagrams drawn in the walls, the blood chalices, the ritual daggers, the bodies of the poor victims hanging head down from the ceiling... For the policemen involved, it all had strong similarities with the recent case of Rebecca Callahan, and the mass grave at London's Zoo. The owners of the house, the Chandlers, were missing from the scene, which made them at the same time suspects, and potential kidnapping victims. Among the remains, there were also two unidentified arms, and two unidentified legs, probably pertaining to the same owner. The detective in charge was unsure if putting an order to find a man with no arms and legs was a smart move, or just a very stupid idea. Nobody was looking for Rui there; the Chandlers had made sure nobody knew where the kid was, as they were working on making his fake war veteran past as believable as possible. The few people who could have known about him were all silent, thanks to the money that had been given to them by the Chandlers.

Once in the fortress, the Chandlers were tied down and fed again. Ilya put a thick block of wood in each of their eye sockets, to stop them from regenerating. Their wounds would heal, though, but not the eyes. Olga was left in charge of taking care of the reduced version of Rui. She was as kind and caring as possible, although she could not wash his feet now. Ilya went to sleep, slightly tired, but satisfied after sorting out his problem. His tool's limbs would eventually regrow, even if that required time, and now that the bond was completed, all he needed was to finish his reprogramming, and that involved calling the Doctor and dealing with him. But not today. That part could wait until Rui was whole again. He totally forgot about Rostik, who was still looking for Rui in Brazil, awake, weakened and shaking.
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You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza.
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Rui
Yuri's machine no. 3
*
ANGLE SWITCH

Rui didn't understand. One moment, Yuri was wearing a dark brown tweed suit with a bow tie, a large plastic apron with long gloves, round glasses; and the next, he was coming back dressed in a red tracksuit. How had he changed so fast? wondered his heavily drugged mind.

But he didn't care. Because the short moment that Yuri had been gone, he'd been left alone in front of that mirror, naked and in pain. He could have fallen off the chair had his leg stumps not been buried in the cushion of the seat, fallen flat on his face, on the polished marble floor, and he'd have been unable to do anything about it. That's why Yuri had done that to him. His legs and arms had been chained for days, and he'd stayed in his box - but then Olga had let him free, and he'd run.

He wasn't supposed to run. She'd told him to be good.

Those minutes were the longest of his life, for he thought that Yuri had abandoned him. In fact, they seemed to last days. He'd survived, but he'd run. He'd thought he'd had to run to survive, but running had only made things worse. He'd not been squashed, or shot, but mutilated. The machine had been taken apart, as only his God could do. He'd lost his way, and his Mentor had reminded him that his life had a meaning. He didn't know what that was, only that he was supposed to support Yuri, that he owed him, and that Yuri owned him. He was a prey, not free, and needed the Predator that was his Mentor as much as Yuri needed him.

Only free machines ran. But that didn't exist; it was a contradiction in terms, and he'd been made to see that.

Yuri's red suit was comforting, as it reminded him of the red light that was on when they talked; and of his Mentor's blood. Rui wanted some. He needed it to be saved. And he needed to be put back together.

And he wanted for his body to stop hurting.

When Yuri turned to leave, Rui's eyes grew wide with terror and urgency. "No... Yuri, don't go... Please don't go!" he called, in complete despair. He tried to wiggle himself out of the cushion, with what velocity he could get going with his torso, neck and head; and just as the door was closed, Rui managed to hop enough to dislodge himself, but fell face down on the bag. The limbs broke his fall, but he was shocked by the foot that ended up in front of his face - his left foot -, and chocked on a sob, as he wiggled to get away from his cut off limps.

He was lying on his back, in excruciating pain, as the door opened once more, and Yuri came into view. So tall above Rui, the light behind him creating a halo, he appeared as the saviour that the young man saw in him. As if in slow motion, his Mentor crouched, and brought something to his lips. His wrist, open, pouring some of himself down into his machine.

The times before, Rui had not wanted to feed on that blood; but tonight, he wanted nothing more. And, as his tears ran into his hairline, he looked into his Mentor's eyes; and, with a soulful expression in his, closed his lips on the wrist and drank willingly. The cold, dank, sweet familiar taste; the abandon as his body and mind drifted away to a better world; one where there was no pain, nor any other concern; a place where only one thing existed: Yuri.

However, this time, his willingness was not the only difference. For as the Vitae spread through his veins, pumped by an already swiftly beating heart, and Rui rode the high that his Mentor's blood never failed to produce; as he lost all consciousness of where and what he was; as euphoria took over, so did Yury's will... Rui found himself pulling more Vitae, feeding from the wrist as if his life depended on it, taking in more of his Mentor's essence, his entire being suddenly expanding with a deep sense of serenity, his heart filling with love; his mind; with purpose; his soul abandoning itself to the embrace of its creator...

You know me. We've been here before. Remember? You know me. You owe me. I own you. Remember.

More tears fell when he opened his eyes, as he was picked up by Yuri, and placed back on the chair. But it was no longer form pain or fear. Rui had seen. Finally, he understood all that his mentor had been trying to teach him, for all of those years. Nothing mattered anymore, so long as Yuri was there. How could he not have felt it before, the bond so intense that he could think of nothing else?

It didn't matter. Now he did. And his Mentor had not abandoned him. His Master, he reflected. Yuri owned him; he was his machine. But the circuits in his head had been defective, that's why he'd not felt the link like that before... It was the blood. The blood had fixed him, and it would fix his arms and legs too...

This time, when his master left the room, the newly created ghoul didn't fear. He continued to sense Yuri, as that one walked out, and closed his eyes to find comfort in the the feeling as much as he could. He would be back, Rui was sure of it. Yuri needed his machine.

Though there were tears that fell from his eyes, the machine said nothing as his grandparents were disfigured. He'd never liked them; they had hated his beloved mother; they had wanted to take him away form her when he was little; they had now taken him away from Yuri; they were nothing to him. And if Yuri thought that they didn't deserve eyes, then they didn't. They were only machines, and bad ones at that. And so, apart from a slight look of disgust in his eyes, at the sight of the blood and empty eye sockets... apart from his near empty stomach feeling ill at the sight of them eating their own eyes, there was no perceptible reaction from Rui, other than seeking his master's eyes when all was done, his filled with trust, devotion and love.

The only thing that bothered the young man was that they were fed his master's blood once they'd been dragged away. That blood was precious, and they didn't deserve it... that was until Yuri came back to him and, again, offered him to drink. Rui looked up at him, wondering how much of it he had... he'd already taken a lot. But he wouldn't dare deny his master, no more than he could refuse the offering. He wanted it. As much as he could have. And he fed... and fed, eyes closed, a small whimper escaping him as his head began to turn from the intensity of the overwhelming storm of emotions which stirred the young ghoul.

Confident in the knowledge that Yuri was fixing him, the machine fed when instructed, and felt himself healing. He watched in the respectful silence that his master inspired by his own, as the machines fed Yuri.

They are functional. They are not free. A prey is a prey because it serves the predator, and a predator is a predator because it serves the prey. They are nothing without each other. They are not free. Each corner of this world is filled with purpose. Why is it so bad to have a reason to exist? Machines have a justification for their whole existence, and that is a good thing.

Yes, it was a good thing, Rui thought, as he once more opened his lips to receive his master's gift. The machines were terminated. But not him. He was lucky. He was special. He belonged to Yuri. And he shivered with trepidation and contentment as he heard the necks cracking, It was frightening to think that he could have his neck cracked like that too, but heartening to know that Yuri was doing this for him.

When his master finally picked him up to bring him outside, Rui felt deeply ashamed of his mutilated form, and lowered his head, hiding behind his hair as he was carried off to the cab, unable to look at Yuri. Such closeness made him feel the full horror of what he'd been made into. He tried to tell himself that it's what his master wanted, and that he'd be fixed; but the shock of what had happened to him was still there. And to be carried like this brought on more tears in his eyes.

Rui did find the courage to look up into his God's eyes as he was placed in the trunk. "Thank you, Master," he murmured lovingly, and kept his eyes in Yuri's, until the truck was closed; left alone in the dark, the ghoul then gave way to all of the emotions that this night, and the ones before, had brought. For strength, he concentrated on the essence of his master, which he could still feel. His head still dizzy with his consumption of Vitae, Rui could no longer feel any pain. His limbs were growing, he could feel it... it was like having ants at the end of each. It didn't show, but Rui knew that something was happening with his body.


HOME

Olga had a bruise on her face.

It's the first thing that Rui noticed when she came to stand over him, beside his bed, where he'd been left.

"You're hurt," he said with a frown of concern.

She nodded, and brought her hands to his neck, the cold chain of his leash falling on his chest as she tied his collar around his neck.

"Now you be good. Yes?"

Rui's eyes watered up, he couldn't help it. But he nodded all the same, and offered Olga as best a smile as he could. "Yes, Olga. I'll be good."

He didn't see what more the collar could do to keep him form running, this time, nor how she'd managed to find it; but the girl seemed happy with his reply. She went on to tell him, from what he understood, that he smelled bad, and needed a bath.

And so followed a day of the likes that Rui had never known. Despite his pleas, Olga took charge of what was left of him, holding his overly sensitive body, as it shivered in her hands while she went on washing him in the tub, leaning over him in her sheer, laced dishabille; the male ghoul timidly trying to keep his eyes away from her enticing body, his desire abnormally uncontrollable, as her hand moved lower on his body; moans escaping him suddenly as, realizing the state that he was in, she took it upon herself to 'care for him' and bring about a long overdue release.

Rui was as mortified as he was relieved; but before he could recuperate, she was letting him slide in the tub, his reduced body completely covered in water as she rinsed him thoroughly, her small hands running over him gently, Rui taking in deep gulps or air when he was finally brought back to the surface.

She rolled him up in a thick towel and carried him over to the sofa, where the infomercials were playing. Her eyes on the T.V. she put his collar back on - as she'd removed it for his bath - dried him and dressed him in a clean t-shirt and a pair of briefs. Then, as if she were manipulating a doll, she sat him up facing the T.V. took a hairbrush, and her attention on is long hair, began to comb it attentively.

"You have pretty hair. I like it.

Helpless to do anything, Rui looked at her bruise, and then at her beautiful blue eyes.

"I'm sorry, Olga."

After having fed him soup, she bundled him up in a warm blanket, and laid him down on the sofa near her, one hand holding his leash, having placed his head on her lap comfortably; and, as he began to fall asleep from his long night, and morning, Olga became once again mesmerized by the T.V., every now and then pointing at the screen.

"I want that."
Edited by Rui, Saturday, 25. April 2015, 14:27.
Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B
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Tsar Ilya the First
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Claiming Tsar
* * * *
TIME FLIES

Days and weeks passed. Not months; but enough time for the fortress to go back to its old pace. Now, with three new souls under its roof. Two of them were downstairs, in the basement where no living creature generally went. The other one, the torso, was upstairs, generally being taken care by Olga.

Rostik had eventually returned from his nonsensical trip to Brazil, and had slept for three days in a row. After that, he had started demonstrating his new unwanted brother that he could be as cruel as necessary, if only to reaffirm his own dominance. Olga needed to keep Rui hidden most of the time; should the other slaves even lay their eyes upon Rui, that could be terrible for their training process. Their minds were sacred temples that should only be filled with obedience, submissiveness, humiliation, and misdirected ambition, not the sight of a talking torso with little pinkish fingers growing off his stumps.

Ilya on his side, started spending more and more time downstairs. He was forced to hunt more than ever, now that he had so many mouths to feed -quite literally-, and his work with his fellow Anarchs was becoming increasingly demanding for him. But there was something else that was grabbing his attention in a way that he could not escape. The old couple. Rui's grandparents. They were among the most broken machines he had ever stumbled upon; and Ilya had seen plenty of broken machines in the battle of Stalingrad.

These two, their programming was all wrong. It was even possible that there was no chance of reprogramming them to become useful. That idea was just haunting. He could not influence their minds in a way that would make them back useful members of this society, parts of the great machine. The feeling of impotence regarding his reprogramming abilities made him thing of Doctor Pauk, the priest of his old pack. He made miracles with the bodies of the machines, he repurposed them without the need to change them from the inside. He turned the machines into works of art. Maybe Ilya could do the same...

So far, he had removed their eyes, inserted blocks of wood in their sockets, removed their tongues and lower jaws to stop them from shouting, and he kept on feeding them his blood straight in their throats. He had also cut the tendons in their arms and legs, but he needed to keep on doing that all the time, or they would regenerate fast. With that idea in mind, he requested Rostik to bring him a long list of items from a hardware store; from barbed wire, to chunks of wood and long nails. He was determined to become as much of a flesh sculptor as Doctor Pauk was.

He wanted to get his hands on that Doctor, too, but he had decided to wait until his new servant had his arms and legs working fine. So far, Rostik was teaching him the basics, just by talking to him, and Olga was behaving like a well trained nurse. The three made him think about his family; Maxim, Valera, and himself. They were like a toy robot replica of his family, in fact. Heart softening thoughts indeed. Rui was taught about the family business, and explained what sort of responsibilities he would have in the future. He was to learn the tricks of the trade from Rostik. He was forced to watch the live feeds of the webcam sessions of the slaves upstairs, and even study Rostik's technique. Olga helped him out by pointing out which tricks were more efficient, and which ones were more counter productive. At the end of the day, she suggested, it was all a matter of chemistry and empathy. He needed to learn how to love the girls in order to efficiently break them and transform them into high end products.

Olga's relationship with Rui made her English improve quite fast. As it turned out, she was indeed a smart -and quite unbalanced- girl. She had grown to understand that freedom was not a choice for them, but the curse of the others, and that they needed to be thankful they had their leashes. Otherwise, they would be products to be transformed and sold, too. At least, now they were higher in the chain of abuse... and what was life but a trip through that chain?

Two full months passed, and Rui had developed small baby like arms and legs. He was grotesque. Ilya did not talk to him in all that time. He appeared every day to feed him, but he never talked. Olga and Rostik received Ilya's gift only once a week. Rui could see both of them looking at him with something that could qualify as hatred, every time he was fed. Rui could see how Ilya gave some instructions to Rostik and to Olga in Russian, every now and then, and they would always obey. After the two months, Olga and himself moved upstairs, to a better room. Apparently, the girl who lived there before had been sold already. Good news. In fact, all of the batch was being sold quite fast. A new group of 10 untrained slaves was going to come to the fortress soon, and Rui needed to make his presence scarce. Not that he could walk, or do anything by himself, but the idea of not being able to spend so much time in the sofa, watching TV with Olga, was not comforting. During all this time, Olga had been the one caring for him, changing his diapers, making sure he was well fed, and that all his bodily functions were properly satisfied. Now, he was going to spend some time alone, with a laptop in front of him, barely able to type with his baby hands, and with an internet connection that was obviously capped in every sense of the word. At least he had access to some movies.

Four months. His juvenile legs looked proportional to his body now, and his arms, even if they looked a bit too thin, were the right size. He was weak, and he would never forget the pain of the bones regenerating... but he was whole again. He was ready. He was perfectly programmed to become Ilya's new loyal machine. Now, it was time to face the next step in his personal evolution; it was time to call the Doctor. For the first time in four months, Ilya spoke. He came out from his basement, wearing only a plastic apron splattered with blood. He gave Rui the old card with the Doctor's phone number, and a black credit card. The credit card had a post it with the security code in it.

"Take care of this. Use as much money as you need. Just do it somewhere away from here. In Camden, if you can. Make it count. Make it reach the front pages. Don't leave any evidence behind. And get one of the other two to film the whole thing. Ah! One more thing: Bring me his head. I need a skull... for an art project."

The Master turned around, and went back to his basement.
Languages:

Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German

Oleg's Voice

You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza.
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Rui
Yuri's machine no. 3
*
TIME FLIES

The first few days had been the worse.

He was always in pain, where his limbs had been cut off. They were growing, slowly, but it hurt so bad that he had trouble sleeping for more than half an hour, without waking up in sweats.

One time, Rui had awakened, bundled up in his blanket, to find Olga all happy with herself as she'd dropped a pack of diapers on the bed beside him. She didn't have time to take him to the restroom - not that that had been better, but at least, he'd kept what little dignity he had left. The diapers had little printed teddy bears on them, blue, some pink...

Another time, not too long after his arrival, was when he'd been in his room. Olga was sleeping and the rat had come to see him. His name was Rostik, and he hated Rui. There was no limit to his cruelty, and the new machine had been quick to understand that he was way under Rostik. And that if he knew what was good for him, he'd shut up about what the older machine did to him. But that was fine because what he'd done to the torso that he was, defied any descriptions that the Rui could have given of the events.

His existence had been a series of days in pain, one way or another, entertwined with Olga's gentle presence and care, and brought to an apotheosis of joy from the blood offered by his beloved Master, under the hateful looks of this brother and sister machines. That moment was eagerly awaited, as most of Rui's time was spent thinking about Yuri. No matter if he was just lying there in pain, or using his frightefully ugly mini hands to type on the keyboard of the laptop, or being taught important things, his Master was always there, with him, in him, his presence missed every minute that Rui was physically away from him. There was nothing, in his world, more important than his Master, and that one's blood. It was divine, not only the taste, to which Rui was completely addicted - but the overwhelming rush, when it coursed through his body, that told him that everything was alright, despite the shame and horror of his body; that he was where he should be, and that nothing that his Master could asked would be too much. Rui needed Yuri, and Yuri needed him. They were bonded together: predator and prey. And he was a lucky prey, as Olga had explained, to be so valued and not sold, or put apart in pieces.

Rui had understood, soon after he'd been brought back, that it was the drugs that had confused him; it had not been Yuri who'd hurt him at his grandparents' house. His Master had saved him, and Rui owed him more than ever. Forever actually, because there was no freedom. That was an illusion, every machine and God had a purpose, and they needed one another.

Rostik had taught him many things, and Rui had been a good student. Not only because Rostik was just looking for a reason to be cruel to him - not that he ever needed one -, but because Rui was someone who had a sharp mind, and took in information like a sponge, learning at a rate higher than most. It was one of his gifts, that his maker had bestowed onto the machine that he was. And now it would serve his Master.

Olga had also helped him understand better how to train the girls, following more of Rostik's lessons. Rui understood all that the other machines knew of the family business, now, and what his purpose was to be in that family. He even came, with time, to appreciate Rostik's cruelty, as much as Olga's gentleness. It was all part of him now, and he was a part of it. Every machine had its purpose, and Rostik's was in charge of ruling over them, when the Master wasn't there, to insure that Yuri was pleased. All for their Master, the miracle of his growing limps reinforcing Rui's conviction that Yuri was his God.

And so the machine, after four month of pain and enlightenment, was back to being a complete being. He'd been fixed, and was ready for use. His arms and legs were still thin, there was still the pain and weakeness, as he was still being rebuilt; but he was functional. He no longer needed to be hidden, and could at last serve his purpose. Olga was an angel to him, Rostik, a demon - but both essential to what he'd become: a useful machine. One that could finally walk in the home, and sit with Olga sometimes, or cook to help her, or do whatever Rostik told him to do.

Rostik still hated him, but Rui didn't mind because it was what the older loyal machine was programmed for by their Master. And it was not for him to try and understand why Gods did what they did.

That night, when the Master came up to see them, Rui stood as soon a he saw him and lowered his head, his heart beating faster in his chest from his presence, and also at the idea that he'd get more blood...

But what he'd gotten was ...well not even better exactly, but just as good - and something that he'd waited four long months for: Yuri spoke to him.

At last.

"Take care of this. Use as much money as you need. Just do it somewhere away from here. In Camden, if you can. Make it count. Make it reach the front pages. Don't leave any evidence behind. And get one of the other two to film the whole thing. Ah! One more thing: Bring me his head. I need a skull... for an art project."

Rui took what his Master offered, as the gifts from his God that Yuri was, and looked up at him timidly. "Yes, Master," he replied in his soft voice, tears welling in his eyes as Yuri turned and went back to his work, downstairs.

For the next moment, he stared at the spot where his Master had last been seen, holding his treasure, and was lost in the wonder that Yuri was: his voice, the tone, so perfect. Each spoken word having reverberated in his heart and soul, with the flawlessness of truth and righteousness. He'd heard it during the last months, when Yuri had addressed the others... sometimes in Russian. And each time, he'd been filled with happiness, and dread too, at times, depending on the mood of the Master; but now, He'd addressed him, and given him a task.

It was time to pick doors, and stairs again.

This time, for Yuri.
Edited by Rui, Wednesday, 29. April 2015, 01:17.
Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B
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