Me and my sister bluemoon made a bet and this the beginning of the story I wrote.  I'm giving you all a break from Ruby Caves for a while.

Chapter 1: Blizzard’s Fury

Virgin Komi Forest, Russia
2:48 A.M.
January 18, 1997

    The wind was howling its fury at the men and women huddling together on the base of the mountain.  Ice stung their faces like needles, the thick snow fall limiting their view to within a few feet.  Where the gently caress is that bastard Akimov?  Anna Kotov thought, scowling against the blinding wind.  Her eyes were slits.  If anyone were to look into them, they would see dark blue orbs, firing their own ice picks.  She was furious; taking a two hour trip into the Urals and waiting for General Leo Akimov was not on her plans for the night.  Bed was where she thought she should be, sleeping restfully under warm wool blankets pulled up to her chin.
    Rumors were the only reason Anna knew of Akimov.  Her head was swarming with what she had heard over the past few months about the General.  Nightmare inducing rumors only to be spoken when there were no children around.  She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the frightening thoughts.  It was said he used brutal experiments on animals, fusing the DNA of different species to create hideous creatures that died in unimaginable pain.
    She was a biologist fresh out of college; she didn’t know what the sadistic general wanted with her.  Neither did she want to work for him.  Anna would rather die than watch the rumors unfold before her.  They were just that, rumors, weren’t they?  She hoped so, if they were true, she didn’t know what to do about it.  Should she kill Akimov, run away, or should she tell someone about the atrocities.  The last she heard, the world powers didn’t accept behaviors like that.  She didn’t know, she just really hoped the rumors weren’t true. 
    Anna shook her head a few more times; her head smacked a broad shoulder to her left.  She stepped back and turned to the broad shouldered man, about to say sorry.  She looked up into the man’s hood; he was looking ahead of him at the snow covered road.  His eyes seemed to follow the invisible road, turning his head in slow inclines, as if he could see through the snow.  Turning ever so slightly, he looked down his bulky chest at her.  The big man lifted his head slowly, giving her a once over.
    “Sorry,â€� she yelled over the howling wind, leaning towards the man.  He nodded and waved the apology away with a massive hand.  The two of them looked at each other for a moment, his eyes hidden behind thick tinted glasses, hidden by the white fur hood.  Icy wind forced her to bow her head; she pulled the thick collar tighter around her neck.  The big man gazed into the snow again.  She turned her back to him and swallowed nervously.  Something in the big man was intimidating to her.
Maybe it was his size; he looked like a walking mountain.  She didn’t know exactly what it was that intimidated her, but his mountainous size was a factor.  She turned back toward the invisible road.  Crossing her arms under her breasts, Anna stored the thoughts of intimidating men in the back of her head for later analyzing.  When she was angry or frightened, she drove the triggering thoughts to the back of her head to hide the emotions.  Warm beds seeped back to the front of her mind from the back.
        The blizzard grew stronger, cutting through her thoughts and heavy wool coat like a torch through ice.  She shivered and rubbed her arms furiously.  It was far too cold for any normal human being to be standing there in the blizzard.  Did Akimov want to see if they could spontaneously mutate into wooly humans?  The last time she checked, her legs weren’t that hairy and her ass wasn’t the size of three SUVs.  She had her doubts about the walking mountain standing beside her.  The size of him, his father could have been a yeti, if not a wooly mammoth.      Wooly mammoth thoughts warmed her blood a little, but still not enough.  She continued rubbing her arms.  She was grateful for the thick sable fur hat covering her ears.  A hand tapped her left shoulder and she looked up into the walking mountain’s face again.  This time he crouched down to her height, leaning closer to speak.
    “Two men are going to see what is taking Akimov so long.â€� Mountain man said.  A strange question was bugging her; she just had to ask it.  It was the basic question to ask when starting a short conversation. 
    “What’s your name?â€� Anna asked.  Mountain man’s white bushy eyebrows lowered a few inches, then lifted back to place on his broad forehead.  He seemed confused by the question, it did seem random to Anna.  Something bad may have happened and she’s asking the guy for his name. 
    “Timur Slava at your service,â€� he bowed with his arm across his gut, like Count Dracula.
    Anna laughed, her long golden hair bunching beneath the hat.  Lungs freezing from breathing in the cold air, she coughed.  Timur put his left hand on her shoulder and violently slapped her back with his right fist a few times.  “Thank you,â€� she wheezed weakly, the hand she put up to her mouth muffling her voice even more.  She put her hand down and said, “You like Dracula huh?â€� she laughed again, weakly.
    He nodded and laughed a deep throaty laugh. 

    Even through the thick snowfall and icy wind, I could see everything clearly.  I could only see in shades of green and black.  Swirling black shadows moved in the edge of my right lens.  I lifted my goggles to wrap around my forehead and looked at the shadow.  Even among the blackness of predawn sky, this shadow was darker.  The shadow was so dark it was a solid form.  Floating in the shadow, about seven feet above the ground was a grey skull.
    The Grim Reaper grins a lot, especially around women.  Grinning isn’t the only facial expression he has.  Death can also frown, arch the tops of his eye sockets; and many more features you’d be surprised can come from a skull.  Tonight, Death had a nervous expression on his skull.  He was only nervous when something really bad was about to happen. 
    Before I could ask him what was about to happen, he spoke.  “We got big trouble headed our way,â€� his voice was a deep rumbling of grinding rocks. 
    “No shite,â€� I said.  Death can be extremely vague with events sometimes.  “Is something going to pop out of the darkness and try to eat us?â€� I asked.  A trio of young women dressed in similar brown light jackets looked up at me from their whispered conversation.  They blinked at me a couple of times and stepped back a few feet in synchronized fashion.  I scowled at them for a few seconds and looked away into the darkness, without my goggles.
    Out of everyone in the small group freezing their asses off in a blizzard, I was the only one who could see Death.  I don’t know too much about why I can see him, I just do.  Unfortunately when I talk to him in public, people avoid me.  People don’t like being near someone who talks to himself at random intervals when walking down the street.  Telepathy is an easy way to communicate with him.  Nobody can think I’m too insane, until they see my face.
    Communicating with Death via telepathy takes a lot of concentration.  Close friends of mine and a few psychiatrists have said I look like a zombie when I concentrate too hard, or when I’m lost in thought.  I have the partially open lips, and the wide blank stare of the undead.  Looking like a zombie on the street has people jumping into trashcans to get away from me.  So to keep my social dignity I mostly whisper to him.  It doesn’t matter anyway, he can hear it. 
    A thin, leather gloved hand waved itself in front of my face from the snow.  “Are you okay?â€� the taller girl of the trio asked me.  “You look constipated, like you are dropping massive H-bomb in snow.â€�  Her thick Russian accented English was broken by the chokes of laughter bubbling from her throat.  That statement left me speechless.  Looking constipated was a new one for me.
    “I did not look like I was dropping a shite the size of an H-bomb!â€� I snarled.  The two shorter women had stepped closer, peeking around the taller woman’s shoulder.  In their now usual fashion, the girls roared in synchronized laughter.  Whatever was out here with us was going to easily find us.
    “I suggest you girls shut the gently caress up,â€� I snarled in the taller girls face.
    “Dave,â€� Death said.  I glanced at him; he was standing a few feet to the left of me, pointing down the road where the two men had walked down a few minutes ago.  “Whatever the gently caress that thing is, it can see you.â€� He warned me. 
    “Well what is it?  You need to give me details to work with!â€� I screamed at him telepathically.
    Death’s answer was quick and urgent.  “If I knew what it was I’d tell you!  It looks like a mix of different things.  It’s an ugly and gigantic motherfucker.  It looks like what happened when a bear, a crab, and the Titanic had a threesome…a metal bear crab; there, you happy with that description or do you want more?â€� He bellowed, the red orbs in his eyes flaring bright. 
    “It’s partially def, but you need to shut these bitches up pronto.â€� An urgent voice that flowed through the crisp cold air told me, cutting off Death.  The voice went to my brain and rode the neurons like the gurgling of a brook in Ireland.  It was Morrigan, the Celtic goddess of passionate love, war, and prophecy.  I couldn’t see her right now; she was hiding in the safety of my head. 
    The blizzard wasn’t letting up and I could only see outlines of the women.  “You brought your goggles so you could see in the dark sweetie, so use them.â€� Morrigan said slowly, like talking to a kid.  I put my goggles back in place.  The trio’s laughter was still going on, and now they were crouched down slapping their thighs.  I opened the top few inches of my thick coat and slowly pulled out my trusty old Smith & Wesson.  It was a 9-mm. automatic pistol, a powerful gun not to be messed with. 
    Two of the women had their eyes closed from laughing too hard.  The one to the right of the taller girl had her eyes open.  When she saw me pull out the gun, her laughter dissipated and her mouth and eyes grew wider.  She let out a scream and fell ass first to the ground, dragging her sister with her.  They fell to the ground in a heap of limbs, the laughter finally stopping.  All three of them stared up at me in terror.  I had to shut them up somehow, pulling a gun out was the only answer at the moment.
    “Dave, you gotta see this!â€� Death yelled.  I followed his voice and looked, and almost did drop an H-bomb right there in the snow.  The old sack of bones was right, this monster was hideous, and gigantic was a perfect description for its size.  It looked worse than Frankenstein’s monster.