Chapter Text
After the First World War, the land that he knew became unrecognizable. Leon had been on his own for as long as he could remember. The cities he grew up near and the family and friends he’d been raised with had long since perished. In the height of the war, air raids were frequent in his village. He remembered the sounds of the sirens every morning before remembering his own name.
“Leonidas, run! Take whatever you can, and run!” His mother yelled.
Airships were hovering over the city. Primitive houses that had become their roots were targeted, urging those who inhabited them to flee. His parents had him pack an emergency bag years ago, ensuring that he regularly checked it every couple of weeks or so.
The main structure of their house was collapsing. Flames were licking at the walls with hunger as the cries of their neighbors pierced the silence of the night.
“Mother, I-,” Leon tried to protest.
Veronika placed her hands on his shoulders firmly, in an act of bravery.
“I’m needed here, my son. I was never meant to leave our home,” she started, urging him to escape. “But you have to survive. I love you, Leonidas.”
He took off into the night with a poorly-manufactured rucksack over his shoulder and adrenaline pushing him to the limits of his body. That was the last time he saw his mother, his home, and everything that he considered to be familiar.
The year was unknown anymore.
It was somewhere in the mid-1920s, but after the world went into complete chaos, the last thing on humanity’s mind was keeping track of what year it was.
The Allied Powers had managed to build weapons that were far too great for humanity to handle. The prototype of nuclear weapons had been brought to the table, and those on the opposing side faced the brunt of it. However, everyone involved felt the impact of these weapons. The Earth as they knew it had been destroyed.
Modern power grids were non-operational and energy sources were found few and far in-between. In short, society had been set back by decades as far as technology was concerned. Most machinery had resorted back to being powered by crude oil, which was an incredibly rare find these days. Looters were regularly hunting for it, bulldozing through anyone and anything in their way.
There were plenty of groups that had managed to get creative and form new ‘mini societies’ – they were almost recognized as tribes, some were large enough to be recognized as country-esque entities, and plenty of them were just rounded-up groups of thugs.
Leon had been walking for what felt like days. He was grateful that the sun gave him an inkling of time, knowing that nighttime was the easiest for him to travel, being protected under the cloak of the dark sky. He watched as the sun began to rise, golden rays and orange hues started peaking out from behind the treelines, waking up the rest of the world. As he kept on, the remnants of a former society caught his eye.
A large, aluminum rune stuck out, with rust and lichen covering its letters. If he had to guess, it was a city name sign.
Not wanting to tarnish his own supplies, which were already limited, he searched his immediate surroundings for some kind of fabric. After a moment of looking around, he spotted a bundle of dirtied rags laid next to a shallow puddle. He picked one up, dampening it in the puddle of what appeared to be stagnant water, and scrubbed it across the metal sign.
Ankara.
The capital of what was previously known as Türkiye. Leon had never been, but his mother had painted a vivid picture in his mind of the cultures and traditions of the late-country’s mecca, ever since he was a child.
“It was one of the most colorful cities I’ve ever seen, Leonidas,” she said.
The young boy was in awe.
“You’ve been there?” He asked, envisioning the tales his mother must have experienced.
The dark-haired woman nodded as she proceeded to go into further detail, describing the handcrafted rugs and textiles within the city, artisans brewing the most flavorful coffee, and wool that had been spun into the finest of lush garments.
“This kind of city is fit for a king,” he decided. “I hope I get to see it some day.”
His mother chuckled, holding her son close.
“I hope I get to bring you there myself, Leon.”
Her words echoed in his head. The irony of the situation was not lost upon him. The whole reason that he was here, standing before an outdated sign pointing to Ankara was because of his mother’s guidance. In a way, she did bring him to the lost city.
He decided to keep moving, feeling his exhaustion catch up to him. Surely, a safe and secure location for a quick rest would await him in the city.
As the young man entered the outskirts of the town, he realized he was surrounded by abandoned houses.
One of these will have to do, he thought to himself.
It was still incredibly early in the morning. Birds were just starting to chirp and the sky was slowly transforming into its daytime blue. Leon approached what seemed to be a randomly selected house, but in reality, his process of elimination had been broken down to a science.
The modest house he chose was not perfect by any means. The front door looked to have been kicked in a time or two, and a couple of the front-facing windows had either had bricks thrown through them, or they had large cracks forming. He was grateful that the Winter season had come and gone, because honestly, the house would have never kept him warm in its current condition.
“Jesus, could it possibly get any colder?”
The wind whipped around Leon and his makeshift campsite, biting at his vulnerable flesh as he tried his best to huddle close to the fire. The cold seasons had come around, and he was scavenging through the Armenian Mountains.
Through hunting and sourcing through ruins of a former life, he’d managed to throw together an outfit consisting of a wool tunic and an outer layer that was made of some sort of hide. Since the collapse of civilization, coming across new garments wasn’t exactly easy — they would either need to be traded for, found, or made by one’s own hand.
Still, the harsh weather managed to cut through his thoughtfully-prepared attire.
Having determined that the house looked like it was beaten up just enough to have already been ransacked a few times, and not nice enough to currently house another post-civilization clique, it was his best chance at getting some rest. He approached the house, quietly entering it and allowing the door to swing on its hinges as he inspected his new surroundings.
In short, the house was definitely abandoned.
It was just a small home, nothing particularly special, but Leon could almost feel the life that once belonged within these walls. He was sure that children were raised here, young couples fell in love with each other over and over again, and memories had been made under this very roof. No matter where he was, he did his best to respect someone else’s home, even if the global population had diminished enough that those who would appreciate his care weren’t around to see it.
He silently traipsed through the rooms for any sign of life, or any indicator that he wasn’t alone in the abandoned property. There were two quaint bedrooms, a living room, a minuscule bathroom, and a kitchen — practically the perfect layout for a small family.
There were a few kicked over boxes, a blanket cot on the floor, and other signs of life, but they appeared to have been from way before he got there. Leon was confident that no one would be returning to the house for quite some time, which gave him a convenient window to get some sleep.
He did one last walk-around to confirm that the area was safe for him to rest before laying down a tarp and a couple of his own blankets on top of the existing cot in the house. His exhaustion quickly caught up with him as his eyes fluttered shut, drifting into a dreamless sleep.
Hours later, the sun was at its highest point in the sky as it made plans to begin its descent. Having slept like a rock, Leon was drifting in and out of consciousness as his body naturally attempted to wake up.
Thunk.
Suddenly, his previously-sleeping form was on high alert. He didn’t dare to move just yet, as he strained his ears to listen for any additional sounds in the house. A few moments passed, and the only noise he could make out was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then, footsteps.
To the untrained ear, it might have sounded like the older house had been settling, or even critters scurrying across the rooftop – but he knew better. Having grown up in a household where he regularly had to monitor someone’s emotions based on their movements, the young stowaway could hear what most couldn’t.
Muffled voices came from the hallway that led into the part of the house that contained his childhood bedroom. He couldn’t quite make out the words, but he was all too familiar with the sound of his mother’s voice going up in pitch when she was upset.
He was also familiar with the sound of his father’s footsteps against the wooden floorboards.
“Vasili, wait-,” his mother pleaded. “It was just an honest mistake. It’s my fault, actually. If you’re going to be mad at someone, be mad at me!”
Within a few moments, Leon’s father threw open the bedroom door that acted as his barrier against the rest of the house. Still, he knew what he could expect, based on the pace of his father’s footsteps and the cries from his mother.
Leon stood in his small bedroom, anticipating Vasili’s next moves.
“Did I not tell you that you had responsibilities to take care of while I was gone?” He asked rhetorically.
A teenage Leon didn’t move a muscle or make any kind of facial expression, which only brought on more rage from his father. However, the man was shorter and weaker than his son, so if needed, the young boy would be able to protect himself with ease. Thankfully, it never went that far.
“You’re a disgrace to this family, Leonidas,” the older man bellowed.
He approached his son, attempting to intimidate him by getting in his face. Multiple minutes passed, and still, Leon didn’t give him the reaction he’d been looking for. The young boy kept his eyes locked on his father’s, daring him to make a move. Finally, Vasili huffed in frustration and stormed out of the room, leaving a scared Veronika in his wake and memories that his son wouldn’t forget.
As his heart rate quickened, Leon reached for the large machete that he’d been clinging to as his lifeline. It was propped up against the wall, right next to him, just in case of emergencies. Bandits and gangs were known to rummage through anyone else’s belongings with zero remorse – if someone else had supplies that they considered to be valuable, they were as good as gone.
He crawled out of his makeshift cot, careful not to make a sound as he readied himself for some sort of unpleasant engagement. There were more footsteps in the house now. If he had to guess, there were about three, maybe four, other presences with him. Having left the door to his temporary bedroom cracked, he peeked out into the foyer to confirm his suspicions.
Leon was right.
There were three heavy-footed men standing in the home, eyeing the place and looking for signs of life, just as he did earlier. They were generic in appearance, not really having any noticeable features. The bandits were dirty, their features covered in sweat and grime. Their clothes matched, also being caked with dirt and littered with holes and rips.
After getting a good look at the intruders, he pulled back from the opening of the door and pressed his back against the wall, mentally preparing himself for battle. The young man let out a long breath, gripped his weapon, and lunged into the main room of the house.
The intruders were startled, not knowing that there were occupants within the crumbling home, so this gave Leon a slight advantage. Still, the attacks were a blur. There were screams of attacks, and answers of agony as he lunged for them. Within seconds, the bandits had pulled their own weapons – knives, hatchets and other handhelds. He was much smaller in stature than the men surrounding him, so he was able to dodge their advancements with ease. However, three against one were not good odds that he’d bet against.
Leonidas was able to guide the attackers away from the front door and into the kitchen area, where he appeared to be cornered. His chest was rising and falling quickly as his breaths left his lungs.
Had he mistakenly bit off more than he could chew?
Then, in a desperate attempt to escape, he pulled off a maneuver that only seemed possible in adventure books. He ducked under the legs of the larger men in front of him, and scurried away. In one quick dash, the brunette made it back to his sleeping quarters and threw his rucksack over his shoulder, grateful that he made a habit of not unpacking much. He was risking leaving behind his tarp and blankets, but they would have to be replaced. The articles weren’t worth his life.
With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he bolted out of the house with his machete in hand, running as fast as he could to put some distance between himself and the intruders.
The solo young man sprinted for what felt like forever. His lungs were on fire, his legs were aching, and his skin was perspiring so heavily, that his clothes were well on their way to being soaked. Finally giving into his body’s plea for mercy, he came to a stop and took in his surroundings. He’d made his way into the woods of Ankara, which wasn’t really a specific location. Most of the area had become wooded and overgrown anymore, which made it easy for one to get lost if they weren’t familiar with the terrain – this included him.
Leon realized that the trees all started to look the same around him. He couldn’t quite figure out which direction he was going, and barely had a grasp of the direction that he came from.
He did his best to convince himself not to panic. Suddenly, a sharp pain in his leg caught his attention. He looked down and realized that the back of his pant leg was stained with blood. His blood. In the scuffle with the intruders of his makeshift home, it seemed like one of them managed to nick his leg. If he was being honest, it was more than a nick.
“Shit,” he hissed, pressing his fingertips to the back of his leg.
He leaned over to assess the wound further, trying to get a better angle of his reddened appendage. The cut was deep, and blood had been seeping out at an even pace, thanks to the pressure he’d been putting on his legs as he ran. Knowing his luck, he might have even left a blood trail for the bandits to follow him.
The wounded man decided to put his body weight against a nearby tree, leaning against it as he slung his bag around the front of his chest, rifling through it for some sort of gauze. Suddenly, his vision became heavy and he felt disoriented.
Leon let out a groan as his head spun. He brought a hand up to his head, which was now pounding as the world around him began to darken.
“What’s… happening…,” he muttered, though no one was around to hear him.
After a handful of moments of trying to fight it, his body succumbed to its injuries as he fell to the forest floor, his belongings scattering around him. Whispers and inaudible words teased his senses as he completely blacked out.