predator and its prey

Just when Dante thought he might lose hope, her eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim light.

"Nana?" he whispered, his voice tight with relief. "Hey, you're awake."

She turned her head slowly, her expression distant. She didn't speak immediately, her eyes scanning the room with a confused, unfocused look. Then, her gaze landed on Dante, and a flicker of recognition crossed her features.

"…Where… where are we?" she murmured, her voice hoarse and weak.

"We found shelter," Dante replied quickly. "You were out for a while. We're safe for now. Just rest."

Nana blinked again, trying to sit up but faltering. Her body was stiff, still recovering from the cold. Dante moved quickly to support her, his hands steady as he helped her adjust. She didn't argue, but her eyes told a different story—she wasn't used to needing help, and the fact that she had collapsed like this gnawed at her pride.

"How bad is it?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Dante shook his head. "You're gonna be fine. Just rest. You've lost too much energy… you need to heal. I'll keep an eye on you."

She swallowed hard, then sighed. Her mechanical arms felt like an extra weight to her, as if they had become more of a curse than a blessing in this moment.

Nana's hand hovered over the screen as Max's name blinked back at her, the buzzing of her phone a sharp reminder of everything she was running from. She stared at it for a moment, her thumb frozen just above the answer button. The weight of the decision pressed on her chest—answer him, or ignore it and keep walking.

The wind howled outside, the storm only growing fiercer. Her thoughts were tangled, the world around her moving in a blur of snowflakes and chaos. She didn't have time for this, not now. The call was a distraction, and distractions were dangerous.

With a heavy sigh, she swiped the screen to the side, silencing it without a second glance. She couldn't afford to get pulled back into that life, the one where things made sense. Right now, all that mattered was finding the place she was searching for, the place buried deep in her mind.

She began walking again, her boots crunching against the snow, the chill biting into her skin. Every step felt like a step away from the life she knew, and every step felt like she was getting closer to something—something important, something she couldn't quite remember, but felt deep within her bones.

The past. That was all she wanted now. Something from her past. But she didn't remember where. It was like a dream she couldn't quite grasp, slipping just out of reach. It was a place she used to live, a place that held the fragments of a life before all of this—before the chaos, before the lies.

She could feel the snow gathering around her, the storm closing in. Dante was behind her, his footsteps a constant presence that she couldn't quite escape. She could sense him, but she didn't look back. She couldn't afford to.

The path ahead was unclear, but she didn't care. She had to keep moving. She had to find that place.

It's out there, she thought, her mind racing. It has to be.

As the storm picked up, her thoughts scattered, but one thing remained steady in her heart: the pull of that unknown place, the place from her past. She didn't know why it was so important, but she felt it. She needed to get there.

With each step, she felt closer to something—something she had lost, something she didn't even know was missing. But now, she had to find it. She had no choice. The call from Max, the worry in his voice, all of it was drowned out by the overwhelming need to remember.

I have to keep walking.

After what felt like an eternity of trudging through the relentless snow, Nana finally stumbled upon the village she had been searching for—the village from her past. But the sight before her didn't exactly match her memories. The village was deserted, quiet, and eerie, its houses buried under mounds of snow, the whole place seemingly frozen in time.

Nana stood at the entrance of the village, her heart racing. This was it, she was sure of it. The air felt familiar, but something was off. There was no sign of life, no movement, no sounds of people. Just the whistling wind and the biting cold that seemed to seep into her bones.

"Hello?" she shouted, her voice echoing across the silent village. Her breath fogged in the air, her words cutting through the heavy storm. "Is anyone here?"

She waited, eyes scanning the dark, snowy streets, but still, no response. The cold was growing unbearable, the storm howling louder with each passing second. Just as she was about to give up, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

A figure appeared in the doorway of one of the houses. At first, Nana thought it was a person, but as the figure stepped into the open, she realized it was anything but.

The figure's body was metallic, its movements stiff and jerky, the sound of gears grinding in sync with each step. It had the shape of a human, but there was no flesh, no warmth—just cold, shiny metal. Nana froze, staring in disbelief at the strange, mechanical being in front of her.

"Are you… real?" she whispered, a chill creeping down her spine.

The figure tilted its head as though processing the question, before speaking in a voice that sounded like it came from deep within a machine. "You are lost."

Nana's heart pounded, but she couldn't look away. "I need help," she said, her voice thick with desperation. "I've been looking for this place. Do you know where I am?"

Without a word, the mechanical figure motioned for her to follow, turning back into the house it had come from. Hesitant but with no other choice, Nana trudged after it, feeling her hope flicker, however faintly. If this place was real, if these beings could help her, maybe—just maybe—she could find the answers she was searching for.

The house was warm, the heat from a fire crackling in the hearth. But the warmth felt wrong, like it was trying to comfort her but couldn't quite reach her. Nana's eyes scanned the room. Inside, there were more of the mechanical beings, all moving about in perfect synchronization, performing tasks that looked like normal human activities—but with an eerie, unsettling precision.

The walls of the house were lined with strange objects, mechanical devices Nana didn't recognize, all humming softly with an energy she couldn't quite place. The air smelled faintly of oil, and the floor was polished to a sterile shine.

One of the mechanical beings brought forward a tray of food. Its hands, metal and smooth, placed it down in front of Nana, but she barely noticed the food. She couldn't take her eyes off the beings—each one moving so smoothly, yet so unnervingly lifeless.

"What is this place?" Nana asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Who are you?"

The figure that had led her inside turned toward her, its face expressionless, as though it were simply processing information. "We are the last," it said in its robotic voice. "We are the ones left behind. The storm keeps us here."

"The storm?" Nana echoed, confusion clouding her thoughts. "What do you mean? Why are you… like this?"

A slight whirring sound came from the figure, almost like it was adjusting itself before it responded. "The storm is not just the weather," it said. "It is our protector. It is our master."

Nana blinked, her mind racing. Protector? Master? What was this thing talking about? She could feel the cold creep into her thoughts as well as her skin, and she suddenly felt like she didn't belong here.

The village… this place… was it even real? Or had she stumbled into some kind of nightmare?

But before she could ask more, the door to the house creaked open again. Another mechanical figure stepped inside, this one larger and more intimidating than the others, its eyes glowing faintly red as it surveyed the room.

"We must prepare," it said, its voice sharp and unwavering. "The storm is growing stronger. It is time."

Nana's heart began to race again. "What's going on? What's coming?"

The first figure turned to her, its voice steady but tinged with something that almost sounded like caution. "The storm will come. It is the only thing that keeps us alive. We must wait."

Before Nana could ask any more questions, the mechanical beings moved with quick precision, closing the windows, sealing the doors, and blocking out the world beyond. The entire house felt like it was locking itself down in preparation for something.

Nana felt a shiver of unease crawl up her spine. What had she gotten herself into?

As the wind howled outside, she sat in the eerie silence of the house, surrounded by these strange beings. The storm outside was just the beginning, and deep down, Nana had a sinking feeling that the real storm—the one that would reveal the truth of this place—was yet to come.

The wind howled outside, rattling the metal walls of the small house as the storm raged on. Inside, the warmth from a flickering fire barely pushed back the chill that crept in through every crack. Nana sat quietly near the hearth, eyes fixed on the dancing flames, lost in thought. Dante slumped against the wall, arms crossed, exhaustion etched on his face.

A soft clinking noise pulled Dante's attention. One of the younger mechanical villagers approached him cautiously, its tiny metal hands clutching a steaming cup. The little bot's glowing eyes blinked unevenly as it held the drink out.

"For you," it said in a stuttering voice, gears clicking with every syllable.

Dante stared at the cup, then at the bot. "Uh… thanks?" He hesitated, sniffing the drink suspiciously. It smelled… metallic. He raised an eyebrow at Nana, silently asking if it was safe.

She didn't look up. "Drink it or don't. Won't kill you."

"Comforting," Dante muttered, setting the cup aside. The mechanical child watched him expectantly, then shuffled away, shoulders slumped as if disappointed.

Silence returned, broken only by the occasional creak of the old house. Then, without looking at him, Nana spoke.

"I grew up here."

Dante blinked, caught off guard. "Here? In this… scrapyard?"

Her eyes narrowed. "It wasn't always like this."

She leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. The firelight cast flickering shadows across her metallic limbs, making them glint like polished steel.

"These people… they were human once. Just like you."

Dante scoffed lightly, glancing at the mechanical beings moving around in perfect rhythm. "Doesn't look like it."

"That's because they aren't anymore." Her voice dropped, heavier now. "The U.S. made sure of that."

Dante's smirk faded. "What are you talking about?"

Nana exhaled slowly, the memories crawling back. "Years ago, when the war started, the government decided this region wasn't worth protecting. Too isolated. Too… inconvenient. So they ran their experiments here. They turned people—families, children—into this." She gestured toward the mechanical villagers. "Machines. Weapons."

Dante shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the walls as if they were listening. "Why? Why would they do that?"

"Control." Her tone sharpened. "Bodies that don't break. Soldiers that don't disobey. It started with volunteers… then it wasn't voluntary anymore."

Dante's throat tightened. "And you? You were part of this?"

Nana's gaze darkened. "My family tried to run. So did others. We built this village deep in the snow, hiding from them. But it was too late. Most of us were already… changing."

Her fingers unconsciously brushed the metal of her forearm, the coldness biting her skin.

Dante looked away, guilt gnawing at him. "And the U.S.? They just… let this happen?"

"They made it happen."

Silence swallowed the room again. The fire cracked and popped, its warmth now feeling distant.

Dante shifted uncomfortably. "So, what now? You just… stay here? Hide forever?"

Nana's eyes glimmered with something between exhaustion and defiance. "I didn't come back here to hide."

Outside, the storm screamed louder, but inside, the fire continued to burn.

Dante stared into the fire, the orange glow flickering in his eyes. Nana's words hung heavily in the air, pressing down on him.

"The U.S.?" he muttered, his voice uncertain. "They did this?"

Nana shook her head slowly, a bitter smirk curling on her lips.

"No." She leaned back, arms crossed. "It's easier to blame a nation, isn't it? But this… this wasn't the U.S. government."

Dante frowned. "Then who?"

Her eyes darkened. "A man. Someone who claimed to serve the U.S., but he was never loyal to anyone but himself. He built his own organization—deep, hidden. Twisting technology for his own satisfaction. Power, control… maybe even curiosity. Who knows?"

Dante's brows knitted together. The weight of her words gnawed at him.

Nana's voice softened but carried a razor's edge. "That organization still exists. They're the ones pulling strings from the shadows."

She glanced at him, sharp and knowing. "And nowadays… you're part of it."

The words struck him like a hammer.

"What?" Dante's eyes widened, his back straightening. "What the hell are you talking about? I—I don't even know what this is! I was—"

But Nana only let out a quiet, dry chuckle.

"Relax." Her smirk deepened. "I wasn't talking about you."

Dante's mouth opened, but nothing came out. His face twisted between confusion and annoyance.

"I knew someone once," she continued, her voice distant now. "Someone named Dante. He was part of them. Or maybe… he thought he wasn't."

Dante scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Great. So I share a name with some shady guy. Wonderful."

Nana didn't laugh this time. She just stared into the fire.

"Names have weight," she murmured. "Maybe it's not a coincidence."

The flames crackled, shadows dancing along the walls.

Dante leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Alright, fine. Let's say I believe you. What happened to your Dante?"

Nana's smirk faded.

"He made his choice."

Her words were quiet, but they sliced through the room like ice.

And then there was only the storm outside and the fire between them.

Dante shifted uncomfortably, still chewing on Nana's words. The fire crackled between them, casting long shadows on the walls.

Then, breaking the heavy silence, Nana tilted her head slightly, a sly smirk creeping onto her lips.

"So," she drawled, her tone suddenly lighter, "you got another name I can call you?"

Dante blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

She chuckled, leaning back against the wall. "I mean, Dante doesn't exactly have the best reputation right now." Her eyes glinted playfully. "Unless you want me to keep thinking you're some secret agent here to stab me in my sleep."

Dante scoffed. "Yeah, because that's exactly what I'm doing. Freezing my ass off in the snow with you."

She raised a brow. "Didn't answer the question."

He huffed, glancing away. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it."

Nana tapped her chin mockingly. "Hmm… how about Tiny? Or maybe Snowpants?"

Dante snapped his head toward her, face twisted in disbelief. "Snowpants? Are you serious?"

Nana grinned. "Dead serious."

He groaned, running a hand down his face. "You're impossible."

"Oh, come on." She leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Give me something better, or I'm sticking with Snowpants."

Dante opened his mouth, thought for a moment, then sighed in defeat.

"…Fine. Call me… Ash."

Nana raised an eyebrow. "Ash?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. It sounds cool. Mysterious. Like someone who doesn't freeze to death in a snowstorm."

Nana stared at him for a beat—then burst into laughter.

"Oh, wow! Yeah, so cool. So edgy." She wiped a tear from her eye. "Okay, Ash. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Dante grumbled, crossing his arms. "Better than Snowpants."

"Debatable," she teased, the warmth in her voice briefly chasing away the cold.

And for a moment, the storm outside didn't feel so loud.

The cold wind bit at Nana's face as she quietly moved to the back of the small house. The mechanical villagers inside were still murmuring among themselves, and Dante—or Ash, as he insisted—was probably still brooding by the fire.

Nana sighed, pushing herself off the creaky wooden chair. "I need something stronger than this," she muttered, eyeing the lukewarm drink in her hands. The mechanical villagers buzzed quietly in their corners, and Dante—Ash—was still brooding by the fire.

Without a word, Nana slipped on her boots and coat, heading toward the back door.

"Where are you going?" Dante called after her.

"Making my own drink," she tossed over her shoulder, letting the cold air swallow her words as the door creaked shut behind her.

The snow crunched beneath her boots as she ventured deeper into the frozen woods, the trees looming like silent sentinels. The storm had quieted into a slow, steady fall of snow, casting everything in a pale glow.

"I'll be back," she murmured to herself, though no one was around to hear.

She wasn't going to make a drink. Not really.

Her boots crunched softly in the snow as she moved deeper into the forest, the biting air slicing through the thin blouse under her coat. The trees thickened, towering and bare, branches clawing at the sky. Nana didn't waver. She knew where she was going.

The path twisted and stretched endlessly under the weight of the snowstorm, but eventually, the shadows parted to reveal an old iron gate, rusted and sagging. Its black bars stood crooked against the pale backdrop of snow.

The graveyard.

Nana's breath caught for a moment.

But she wasn't alone.

There, standing still before a lonely gravestone, was an old woman. Fragile but unyielding. The wind tugged at her thin shawl, yet she didn't move.

Nana froze behind the gate, gripping the icy bars.

Linda Sullivan.

The woman lingered in silence, staring down at the stone. Nana couldn't hear her words, only the faint rustle of wind between them.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer.

Then, slowly, Linda turned and began her quiet, deliberate walk away, vanishing into the trees without ever noticing Nana's shadow lingering behind the gate.

Only when Linda disappeared entirely did Nana move.

She stepped forward carefully, the snow crunching beneath her.

Andy's grave was simple, weathered by time.

Nana knelt before it, the cold bleeding into her bones.

"Andy…" Her voice trembled, barely more than a whisper.

Her metal fingers traced the worn letters of his name.

"I woke up. A long time ago… but you didn't know, did you?"

Her breath wavered in the frigid air.

"I didn't know either. Not about… what they did to you. About how he sabotaged you."

Nana's fists clenched, the metal of her joints creaking softly.

"I only got the report that you failed the mission. They told me you were gone. And then…" Her voice faltered. "They put me back under. Experimented again. Twisting my mind, tearing me apart piece by piece."

She let out a shaky breath.

"But you were there. Through all of it. You stayed with me. Even when I was nothing but a broken shell, you didn't leave."

Her throat tightened.

"And you… you saved me during the war. You pulled me out when no one else would."

The snow swirled around her, settling gently on the gravestone.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For staying. Even when you weren't here."

Silence hung between them, heavy and fragile.

Then, slowly, Nana rose to her feet.

"I swear to you," she said, steady now, "I'll stay alive. As long as I can. And I'll be happy. Even if it kills me."

She turned away, the wind catching in her coat as she took her first step back into the woods.

But for a moment, she thought she felt warmth behind her—as if someone was still there, quietly watching.

The sky darkened, swallowing the last pale light of day.

Nana hadn't made it far from Andy's grave when the first sound tore through the stillness—a low, distant rumble.

Then came the sharp crack of something breaking.

Her head snapped toward the village.

Smoke.

Thick, black smoke rising into the sky, twisting with the snow.

No.

Her legs moved before she could think, snow spraying beneath her boots as she sprinted back through the trees. Branches clawed at her coat, biting into her skin, but she didn't slow down.

Then—boom!

The ground shuddered beneath her.

She stumbled, catching herself against a tree. The air stank of burning metal and gunpowder.

Bursts of gunfire echoed in the distance.

Nana burst through the trees, her breath freezing in the air.

The village was in chaos.

Flames licked the rooftops of mechanical houses, casting jagged shadows across the snow. Mechanical villagers scrambled in all directions, their metal limbs glinting in the firelight. Sparks flew as some collapsed, riddled with bullets.

Armored soldiers swarmed the streets—bearing the insignia she knew all too well.

The Organization.

Her eyes darted wildly, searching for Dante.

"Nana!"

His voice cut through the noise. She turned sharply, spotting him across the wreckage, crouched behind an overturned cart. His arm was bleeding again.

They locked eyes.

But before she could move—whiz!

A bullet sliced past her cheek.

She dropped, rolling behind a pile of smoldering scrap.

"You can't hide forever!" a voice snarled behind her.

Heavy boots crunched through the snow.

They're hunting me.