Post by thelori24 on Mar 14, 2017 4:20:16 GMT
It had seemed that Sam had certainly made his deal with the devil, taking the cocky young Russian up on the offer that had ultimately saved his life. Occasionally, late at night when he couldn't sleep he wondered if it would have been better to have passed away on the streets of New York...but he was not the sort of man to dwell on such things, to give in and give up. He was a fighter who'd survived so much, he would survive this too. He had more of a chance of surviving now, actually, enhanced as his captors had seen to it that he was. He was stronger, faster, more nimble, more able to shrug off minor injuries...and he always had been a strong, stubborn man to start with.
The shitty little Russian bastard had learned that the hard way too, and no longer turned his back on his little project anymore. They'd also seen fit to install what was basically an off switch in his brain, forcing his compliance until such a time as he could figure out how to get around it. They had nothing to hold over him to cow him into submission. They hadn't been able to control him through sheer force or threats or violence. He'd become a wild card, a loose canon they couldn't control. But they were still trying, determined not to give up on this project with it's potential.
So he found himself now in Russia, an hour or so outside of the city proper, bleak and cold, especially now that the sun had set. Careful calculation had found a small outpost that contained the information Sasha and his companion had wanted to gain control of, and staffed with barely a skeleton crew at night, it seemed an easy target to test the man out on, the first live test in the field.
Sasha was not far away, remote watching and feeding instructions, making sure Sam made no wrong moves that would give the pair away, but far enough away he could sever connections and be in no threat himself.
Sam didn't enjoy working for the pair. He didn't like them, he felt no loyalty to them, he wasn't afraid of them, but he also felt no reason to avoid or loyalty to those they used him against yet. He was biding his time, but sooner or later he'd get his chance, and he'd get out of here, go back to his previous life. He wondered if any of those he cared about had even noticed he'd gone missing...it had been months at this point. But he had up and left abruptly, with no hint or warning. He was just glad for the fact that his captors didn't seem to know who he cared about...he intended to keep it that way as much as he could.
He found himself outside the edges of the outpost. There were security measures in place, but the place seemed no more than a remote warehouse of sorts...but there were cameras, motion detectors. There was one place around back where they didn't quite reach, he needed to get himself through the metal sheet walls and inside, but only in that exact spot. He stood behind the building, running mental calculations quickly, but not standing in place too long, too cold to not keep moving here, his face and most of his frame covered but still not enough to keep the cold at bay. He approached, found the seam in the wall he could cut away from, making himself an opening. He knew Sasha was watching all he did as he worked...he'd once tried to cover the camera he knew was in his gear...he'd received a stern warning to remove the cover...after refusing he'd found himself coming to again an hour later. He hated that little shithead, he dreamed of the day he could finish off snapping his fucking little neck, him and his smug, superior, shit little attitude.
The shitty little Russian bastard had learned that the hard way too, and no longer turned his back on his little project anymore. They'd also seen fit to install what was basically an off switch in his brain, forcing his compliance until such a time as he could figure out how to get around it. They had nothing to hold over him to cow him into submission. They hadn't been able to control him through sheer force or threats or violence. He'd become a wild card, a loose canon they couldn't control. But they were still trying, determined not to give up on this project with it's potential.
So he found himself now in Russia, an hour or so outside of the city proper, bleak and cold, especially now that the sun had set. Careful calculation had found a small outpost that contained the information Sasha and his companion had wanted to gain control of, and staffed with barely a skeleton crew at night, it seemed an easy target to test the man out on, the first live test in the field.
Sasha was not far away, remote watching and feeding instructions, making sure Sam made no wrong moves that would give the pair away, but far enough away he could sever connections and be in no threat himself.
Sam didn't enjoy working for the pair. He didn't like them, he felt no loyalty to them, he wasn't afraid of them, but he also felt no reason to avoid or loyalty to those they used him against yet. He was biding his time, but sooner or later he'd get his chance, and he'd get out of here, go back to his previous life. He wondered if any of those he cared about had even noticed he'd gone missing...it had been months at this point. But he had up and left abruptly, with no hint or warning. He was just glad for the fact that his captors didn't seem to know who he cared about...he intended to keep it that way as much as he could.
He found himself outside the edges of the outpost. There were security measures in place, but the place seemed no more than a remote warehouse of sorts...but there were cameras, motion detectors. There was one place around back where they didn't quite reach, he needed to get himself through the metal sheet walls and inside, but only in that exact spot. He stood behind the building, running mental calculations quickly, but not standing in place too long, too cold to not keep moving here, his face and most of his frame covered but still not enough to keep the cold at bay. He approached, found the seam in the wall he could cut away from, making himself an opening. He knew Sasha was watching all he did as he worked...he'd once tried to cover the camera he knew was in his gear...he'd received a stern warning to remove the cover...after refusing he'd found himself coming to again an hour later. He hated that little shithead, he dreamed of the day he could finish off snapping his fucking little neck, him and his smug, superior, shit little attitude.
