Memories Buried by Snow part 1

Prologue
Memories Buried by Snow

Crunch — white boots pressing against the icy blanket. The silence disturbed by a hooded figure navigating through the frozen forest, squeezing between and ducking under the trees, heading towards the light beyond them.

Cold fog danced through shafts of sunlight while a silhouette passed through them.

Snow dropped with a thick, quiet thud as gloved hands stretched tree branch upward. The figure paused at the edge of the foliage. Their ski goggles reflected a white expanse, bathed in golds and orange, with tinges of purple. A winter afternoon.

Stepping out, the winter afternoon greeted the figure with a cold gust, pulling down their white hood, ruffling the raven-black hair underneath.

“What a bother.” The figure sighed with a young, boyish voice, fixing his hair and adjusting the white muffs over his ears.

With a pale bag slung over his shoulder, his coat swung side-to-side with every step. And every step he left behind was already being erased by the snow. Had it not been for his shadow, he would’ve blended into the color of sunset.

The boy dropped his bag to the side, gulped, then took a few more steps forward, looking down at the gorge below.

Standing a few meters from the edge of a cliff, he pressed into his ear muffler.

“I’m on site.” Ahead of him, reflected in his goggles was a large villa.

A crackle, then a feminine voice. “Copy that, Two-Zero-One.” Said with a faint accent.

The bag clicked open. Inside was an assortment of black and white components, with a sky blue sling. He knelt down and began twisting each intricate part together.

Two-Zero-One rubbed his gloved palms. The afternoon sun pulled his attention.

He glanced to his right, toward the horizon, where the Sun hung above the mountain range. He pulled aside his mask down to breathe the crisp air, showing his pale complexion. Soaking up the sunset’s warmth, he exhaled a wisp of white, before lifting his rifle.

Flat on the ground, Two-Zero-One adjusted the scope until the blurred shapes sharpened, only for the wind to tug his hood back and forth.

“Hrk, grk! Stop it!”

Static hissed as the woman asked, “What’s wrong?”

“The weather condition’s…” He exhaled, “…not exactly favorable.”

“It’s because you left most of your gear in the car.” His handler argued.

“I’m not gonna be here for too long, right? Get to the cliff, shoot, get back down.” He checked the white bag.

“It’s better to be prepared.”

Two-Zero-One picked up a magazine, slowly inserting the bullets.

“Whose brilliant idea was it to have my first mission be on the mountain?”

“... Professor Tetsuya’s.”

“Of course…” He clicked his tongue.

“Are you against his decision?”

“I’m just asking why they chose me?”

“Because according to them, there’s no one else like you, Two-Zero-One.”

He inspected the bullet, complaining, “Any other agent could make this shot. It’s barely two kilometers. This is basically routine.”

Five long seconds followed.

The voice finally asked, accent slipping, “Have ya ever aimed at a real person before?”

Two-Zero-One opened his mouth.

All he had to do was watch and pull the trigger at the right moment. Besides the cold environment, it was something he had done countless times. Mentally, it was his first step into unfamiliar territory.

Unable to answer, he swallowed his words as silently as possible.

“How close have ya been to death?” She asked, “Or rather, have ya ever caused it yerself?”

An image flashed in the boy’s mind, one of an arm, protruding through rubble under clouds of dust and peering sunlight.

“... No.”

“All twelve agencies are watching you. Waiting. Evaluating. Taking everything into account to see if the professor’s masterpiece was worth their investing in, and whether to produce—” There was slight static at the tail-end of her words.

“What happens… if I fail?”

“If you fail, then—” A high-pitched snap cut her off. A faint thunder clap could be heard in the distance.

“Ahk! Command? Command, do you copy?”

Cold air hissed.

A numbness ran through his fingers.

“If I fail…”

Visions of bed straps and scalpels, of blurry doctors with needles and bottles.

Two-Zero-One scanned his surroundings.

Ahead, he was dangerously close to the steep drop. Less than ten feet away was a chasm where the sunlight did not reach, where a haunting pull called out to him. Beyond that, the villa stood atop another summit.

To his right were the continuous hills surrounded by dense forests, where the sun setting sank between two mountains.

To his left, opposite of the Sun, a monotony of dark clouds gathered beyond the mountain range, lightning faintly flashing — a blizzard was brewing.

Behind him was the path he had taken to get here. His footsteps, buried beneath a fresh blanket of snow, as if they were never there, and beyond that was where his handler waited.

From the skies, shafts of golden sunlight were like prison bars over him.

“If I run, they’ll find me. If I fail, they put me in the white room.”

His right hand trembled.

Fingers stiffly curled around the bullet as he looked at it. His dark copper eye stared back at him from the polished cartridge, barely visible through his reflective goggles.

“I have to succeed…”

Slotting in the round, he spoke, “So I have to kill.”