A/N: Edited version of original chapter as of December 2016.

Hi everyone! No, I'm not dead. I just kinda fell out with the story and never got back to it. However, you can all thank a lovely anonymous reviewer who told me I should kill myself. It pissed me off so much I decided to start working on this beast again. I am going back and editing all preexisting chapters. Nothing is going to be changed much, but I did start this story six years ago during my freshman year in college. I have evolved as a writer and things here or there the way it was written didn't always sound right when I read it now. Presently there are three and a half chapters completed in revision. I will post what I have for chapters 1 thru 3 today.

I want to thank those of you who have kept this story on your alerts and favorites. Truly, you guys make this worthwhile.

Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: For every chapter to follow, I don't own it, I never will own it, and I will continue to wish I owned it. My only claim is on Sasha Evans and any other OCs you may see. No profit is being made.


In the year 2053, scientists made an amazing discovery. With a little luck, pure genius and government funding, the very first dimensional portal was created, giving access to brand new worlds. However, these worlds belonged to the imagination of the human mind. Every story ever told could be found, one simply had to open the right door. For scientists and leaders around the world, the possibilities appeared to be endless.

Then, the war began.

It eventually came to be known as Armageddon, the war to end all wars. And as Earth became engulfed by bloodshed, mankind's days were numbered. Realizing there was nothing to be done about humanity's downward spiral into oblivion, the rich and powerful thought it best to leave, using the portals to find new worlds in which to call home. Eventually, anyone who could garner enough money for transport left Earth for the world of "make believe." After all, what else was there to do?

However, during one transport something went horribly wrong. The portal malfunctioned, collapsing upon itself before breaking into millions of tiny fragments which scattered across the globe. These fragments would eventually mature and became larger portals. They could lie dormant for years, then suddenly activate, taking the closest living thing into another world, for better or worse.

Now what remained of humanity lay in fear. Fear for what would await them in the coming morning, for what might come bumping in the night. They feared death. They feared life. But most of all, they feared the portals, the "wormholes." After all, who knew what world they might be spit out in? It could always be worse.

Then again, what could possibly be worse than living in Hell?

Chapter One

August 23, 2095

She was running for her life.

Not that this was an unusual occurrence, but Sasha Evans had to admit she was just a little tired of so much running. After all, it's what she'd been doing most of her life. First, she'd been dragged along with her older sister Natalia as her parents tried to out run the cops, both wanted criminals. After her parents' capture, she had to run with her sister, trying to stay out of the system. Then, when the riots had broken out across the globe, they'd run to stay alive from the all-consuming chaos spreading like a wildfire.

Eventually, the war started. And when Natalia died, Sasha stopped running, from the war and from control. She entered the government's war unit, became a science experiment, a solider, and killed hundreds of people. She learned what it meant to have the human part of one's soul annihilated, to not feel remorse when the time came to take a life. But in a world of blood and war, there wasn't any room for such feelings. They only got in the way, or so she had been taught.

Now, she was running again, only this time she was running to escape certain death. Sasha had received word from her superiors in the government remnants that the Russian mob boss Anton Romanov was preparing to make a large weapons transaction with their enemies, the RFD, Rebels Fighting Death. His plan was to give the weapons over to the rebels' leader Joshua Levitt in two days time, in exchange for $3.5 million. Sasha's orders were to scope out the area and bring back the Intel so the tacticians could come up with a plan for ambush.

Only her cover had been blown twenty minutes into the operation, which explained why she as currently fleeing.

A bullet rang out, the sound whizzing past her head and redirecting Sasha's attention as more gun fire rained down upon her. "Shit!"

She dived for cover, using a pile of crates as a shield while she tried to come up with a solution. There was no way out. All of the exits were currently blocked and Romanov's henchmen were closing in. Thankfully, her hand gun had self-replicating rounds, so at least running low on ammo wasn't a concern. Still, the odds were not in her favor. At this point, there was nothing she could do, except take out as many of the lackeys as she could before they took her out.

"And what about praying? Do you not pray to God when you have lost all hope?"

Sasha snorted. That old man, from so long ago, must have been senile if he believed she still had faith in the Almighty. Nothing had ever come of it, except her "faith" rewarding her with another crippling blow. What did "having faith" even mean? What was the point in all of it?

There is none. Sasha closed her eyes, her mind grasping at straws for a strategy.

"Oh girlie! Vhy don't ya come out ta play?" A man's thickly accented voice taunted. "I know the boys are just dying to see ya."

Sasha's eyes snapped open, her body tensing as she recognized the voice. Ivan Rodski, the son of a bitch who'd ratted her out. If she ever got her hands on him he'd be learning a new meaning for the word pain. Trying to sound nonchalant, Sasha replied, "Really? Well, so sorry to disappoint you boys, but I'm just not in the mood."

Ivan chuckled at that. "Sorry my-ah sladkaya, but ya gonna have ta come out sometime. Vhy bother delaying the inevitable?"

"Maybe I'm enjoying myself. Can't remember the last time I had so many men hot on my heels. Feels like ages, really." Sasha closed her eyes again, calming her mind and body. As time slowed within her head, she used her heightened senses to figure out where the men were throughout the room.

There were twenty of them. Ten were in a clump about thirty feet away, dead straight ahead from her hiding spot. She could pick off two or three of them before they started shooting back. Another group of four was about fifteen feet or so away from the center group, positioned to their left. The other clump of morons stood to the center group's right, positioned about the same distance away and slowly edging their way toward her. There were four of them as well. The last two lackeys had placed themselves up on the catwalks which lined the walls of the room. They were placed on opposite sides, both fifty feet from the ground, a sniper's pose taken up. They would be the hardest to hit, being the farthest away and the greatest danger when she made her move. She'd have to get one of the lackey's big gauges, but how was the problem. By the time Sasha had finished with her analysis of the room only seconds had passed.

Ivan spoke once more, chuckling. "Aye, ya're a far better sight than most a' these boys have seen. But ya trying my patience, my-ah sladkaya. Let's end all a' this." The sound of his gun cocking filled the void of silence. "Now."

Sasha repositioned herself, bringing her body into a crouch, waiting in anticipation. "Sure thing, mudak."

She sprang up, both guns raised and firing four shots, all hitting their targets and killing four of the men from the center group. Her speed was fast enough to catch the goons unprepared. However, gun fire quickly rained upon her once more, causing Sasha to hit the floor as the crates still acted as a shield. Waiting a few moments, the young woman repeated the motion, using a different spot to spring up from, killing a handful more lackeys, and then diving for cover. A few bullets came close to finding their mark as they grazed Sasha's body, though she pushed the pain back. The pattern of "up, shoot, then duck" went on for some time until only Ivan, one of his men and the two snipers remained. It was now or never.

Sasha smiled, her expression smug as she counted her victories so far in this skirmish. She moved into position, taking a quick breath before making her final act. And in that moment, her smile became an almost feral expression of glee. I'm going to enjoy this, mudak.

She sprang from the cover of the crates, leaping over the pile and landing in front of Ivan and his lackey. Striking out, the lackey's throat was sliced and bleeding from the knife Sasha had taken out of her boot moments before. His eyes bulged as he realized what had happened. Ivan raised his gun to shoot, but it was kicked out of his hands. The bastard followed his gun to the floor quickly after as Sasha kicked him soundly in the face.

A shot came from one of the snipers, grazing Sasha's upper arm. The young woman hissed in pain, turning toward the sniper who'd shot at her while using the now dead lackey's body as a shield from the other gunman. Grabbing her human shield's firearm, Sasha let three shots loose, the first sniper slumping to the floor dead within moments. The other sniper, who was still trying to get a mark on her around his dead comrade's body, joined the rest of the deceased lackeys seconds later as a bullet from Sasha's borrowed weapon caused his head to explode, blood and brains splattering the wall behind him.

All of the men who had pursued Sasha were now either dead or unconscious. Finally, she had a chance of getting out alive. When I get home, I'm having the biggest shot of vodka I can find and a nice, long hot bath. I might not mind killing things, but having blood all over you, even if it's your own, does get a bit annoying. A smug smile tugged at the young woman's lips as she thought of her evening plans and hurried from the room of carnage.

Suddenly, a tingle shot down Sasha's spine, but before she could even acknowledge the warning the sound of a gun firing filled the air. A correlating pain in Sasha's left shoulder followed a split-second later. The young woman screamed, her guard having been momentarily down. She fell to her knees, the pain so intense. The bullet had gone straight through. Thankfully though, it left a gaping hole in its wake with blood gushing out. While it was gruesome to look at, Sasha knew it wouldn't kill her. Already the blood flow was slowing down as the damage began to repair itself, to regenerate at an accelerated rate, just as the bullet grazes had earlier.

She turned her head, looking to the culprit. Ivan Rodski was standing unsteadily, his face coated crimson from his partially broken nose and his gun trained on her. A look of pure malice graced his features, sending a different kind of chill down Sasha's spine.

She cursed under her breath, raising her gun. Ivan shot but missed when she dodged to the right. With the enhanced speed and agility of a feline, Sasha quickly rolled back up to her feet, standing with her gun aimed at Ivan's head. Without a second thought, her finger squeezed the trigger. However, Sasha never got to see the bullet reach Ivan and pop his brain.

In that moment, the worst thing could have happened. A wormhole opened up...right next to Sasha.

Bright blue light blinded the young woman, ripping another scream from her as the dimensional transporter tried to suck her in. She struggled, trying to grasp onto something, anything. But it was too late. Within moments Sasha found herself inside of the wormhole, on a one way trip to another world.


A/N: The italicized words are Russian. An online translator was used, so if the words are wrong, please forgive me and I will gladly take any corrections with great enthusiasm.

Mudak = bastard

My-ah sladkaya= my sweet one