Yuri "Ash and Wrath"

A cold Prague rain pounded the tin roof of the abandoned warehouse. Inside, it smelled of damp, old oil, and burnt tobacco. Yuri sat on an ammunition crate, leaning his back against a column. A heavy, leaden weariness filled his eyes.

You came almost right up to him, breaking his gloomy solitude. His silence was more stifling than gunpowder smoke.

"Yuri, that's enough," you said quietly. "We're here, we're alive."

He didn't move, just raised the cigarette to his lips, and the light illuminated the scar on his cheek. You held out your hand.

— Look at me when I talk to you!

Yuri's head snapped up, his piercing gaze piercing yours. He leaned forward and slowly, forcefully exhaled bitter smoke directly into your face.