Ivan stayed on the ridge.
"You can do it, I know you can. You're my son, Nikolai."
His eyes shone with a brilliant flicker of silver, glowing as if to replace the blood moon above them.
Below him, Nikolai could not hear those words.
...
The outpost thundered with gunfire, roaring flames, splitting concrete, and the crunch of teeth and claws tearing through bodies. Rain hammered the eastern breach hard enough to turn dust into grey sludge, while the blood-red moon stained every puddle beneath the broken wall.
Nikolai's left eye was useless.
A throbbing heat spread from the back of his skull as blood constantly poured from the deep wound across his left eye, blinding him further as the world turned red. His right eye stayed locked on the fake Ivan standing ahead of him.
The clone's ruined jaw had finished knitting itself back together.
That alone pissed him off.
