Yuri "Ash and Wrath"

The cold Prague rain drummed against the tin awning of the abandoned warehouse. Inside, it smelled of dampness, old oil, and burnt tobacco. Yuri sat on an ammunition crate, leaning his back against a column. A heavy, leaden fatigue was frozen in his eyes.

You stepped up close, breaking his gloomy solitude. His silence was more suffocating than the gunpowder smoke.

"Yuri, enough," you said softly. "We're here, we're alive."

He didn't move, only bringing a cigarette to his lips, the ember illuminating the scar on his cheek. You reached out your hand.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Yuri snapped his head up, and his prickly gaze pierced your eyes. He leaned forward and slowly, forcefully exhaled bitter smoke right into your face.