I always thought that Michael deserved a proper back-story, well here it is – enjoy!
Rated M for some mild slash, sexuality, language and section one style torture and violence…
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters…
Authors Notes: This story contains elements of slash. No, Michael is not a homosexual in this story. I have tried to make this as true as I feel it ought to be. I wanted to create a very plausible and very real take on Michael's first years at section before are lovely Nikita came into the picture. Yes, Simone will be included as well as Jurgen who has a quite substantial role in Michael's early days at section one.
As always, comments are most appreciated and reviews make me oh so very happy. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!
Chapter One
The New Recruit
I am not looking for a clearer conscience
Peace of mind for the things I do
But before we talk to any repentance
Try walking in my shoes
- Depeche Mode
He was aware of only blinding white as he opened his eyes and peered into what he was sure must be the sun itself.
Am I dead?
He thought for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the glare of his surroundings. It looked like a hospital room. A very cold hospital room but one nonetheless, he realized that he was lying in a bed.
What happened?
Oh yes, Rene and the bombings, prison… he had been sentenced to death.
His eyes began to focus and came to rest on a huge hulking bear of a man; who wore glasses and a bemused expression on his face.
"You're awake, sleep well?" he asked.
Michael could not place the accent, he knew it was English he spoke, that he knew – he spoke English quite well in fact.
It sounded perhaps, how did one say it, like a New Yorker. Yes, like a New Yorker.
"I slept alright," he said in English, he felt disoriented and confused not only by his surroundings but the feel of the words forming from his lips. He could not remember when last he had used the English language in conversation. He felt very strange as if he had been submerged under water. It was then that he realized that he must have been drugged. Yet, why – where was he? The man did not look like a guard or a doctor or anyone of that sort. The first knots of uneasiness began to settle in him as the man stepped closer to the bed.
"That's good because you'll need it," he said as he took off his glasses, small and wire framed and began polishing them on his shirt. His manner was one of slow indulgence as if he had all the time in the world, when he was finished and the glasses were back on his face, he looked back at Michael.
"Your not much of a talker, are you?"
"No," he said and it was the truth. He had always been the quiet sort. He never spoke unless it was necessary for him to do so. "That's good… real good, cus' a mouths only going get you into trouble around here, understand?"
Michael realized he was no longer in prison and he knew that he was certainly not dead. He wanted to ask where here was but he refrained, it was best to keep quiet and let the man before him explain the situation. The man did not disappoint.
"This is section one, the most covert government agency on the planet – you have been recruited to work for us and here is were you will train."
"What if I refuse?" Michael asked as he tried to sit up, keep his mind focused on the odd turn of events unfolding around him. It was important for him to be in control of a situation. He didn't like not being in control over his fate and he was slowly coming to realize that this place though not a prison in the traditional sense was every bit as dangerous, if not more so and the man when he spoke again, confirmed these suspicions.
"You really don't have a choice but then again you were three weeks away from being executed, you should be grateful for the opportunity we are giving you," the man said and there was that bemused expression again and Michael who had an uncanny knowledge of others thoughts and feelings, could sense that this man respected the calm persona that he projected. Inside, however was another matter. He felt cornered, trapped. Yet, he did his best to keep his face impartial. It was a skill he had cultivated over the last few years. His life though still in it's near infancy had been one marred with pain, sacrifice, and heartache.
"It was my choice to die there…" Michael said proudly meaning those words with conviction.
"You believe that?" the man said and now his smile was wider, broader. It seemed as if he was humoring him with that smile. As if he was in on a joke that he wasn't about to share and somehow this infuriated Michael but he kept the mask of calm firmly in place. The man stepped closer to the bed and surveyed Michael with a clinical gaze as if appraising something that was to be sold. This to infuriated Michael and slowly the veneer of calm began to come apart, at least in his eyes. His anger over the situation began to creep into his gaze and the man noticing this, chuckled a bit.
"One thing, I will impart you with is this, my young friend – a cause, pride, those things mean nothing to you now, you do things are way, my way or you will die…understand?"
Michael was thoughtful for a moment before he met this man's eye, his gaze, one of a fierce intense green and then as they held one another's stare he said, " I am not the least bit afraid to die."
"That is why we chose you," the man said not missing a beat.
"You start tomorrow, I suggest you use the time from now till then to rest up – then you are mine and I do not give leeway understand… I am training you to be the best there is, I do not and will not accept anything but…"
Michael did not answer him, just watched as the man turned and walked towards a large metal door and keyed in some numbers on the keypad next to it. The door swooshed open and the man paused and looked back. He smiled again, a strange smile and then turned and left, the doors shutting behind him without sound.
Michael flopped down upon his bed and closed his eyes. He was only twenty-two years old… in fact; what he did not know was that today was not only his birthday but also the day that the outside world officially declared him dead