One
Forgive my replacing of chapter one. A few errors needed to be fixed.
пожалуйста — pozhaluĭsta — please
Брат — brat — brother
Николай — Nikolai — Nyo!Belarus
Игорь — Igor — Nyo!Ukraine
An earsplitting scream came from the inside of the small containment chamber. The lights inside of it flickered, the current electricity usage draining the power. Once the lights were fully lit again—no flickering in the slightest—the screaming died away. Inside the room it was very bright, the floor and ceiling stainless white, the wall seemingly made of mirrors; one-way of course. The seemingly bleached-white floor had a couple blood stains toward the center, clearly fresh. A woman with long blonde hair hung from thick, bolted chains and wires that jutted out of the ceiling. Her hands were cuffed tightly, connected to the chains, sustaining her in midair. She'd been there a while, and it was getting hard for her to breath. She made no movements, aside from the slightest tremble. Her clothes were tattered, scattered all over the floor. She was in her undergarments and a simple scarf, which were all baby pink in color, but bloodstains covered most of those as well. There were cuts all over her stomach and back, as well as a few on her legs and cheeks. The area around her neck was clear of any damage, however. Her hair was messy, clinging to her sweat-clad body as she tried not to cry, continuing to quiver in the hold. A voice emanated around the room from a speaker, but she was too weak and unfocused to pinpoint it.
"Shall we try again, Braginskaya?"
The woman responded by screeching angrily in Russian. Once she'd finished, everything was eerily silent for a moment. She was panting now, the shouting having expended much of her remaining energy. The room was silent again, before the voice suddenly came onto the speaker once more.
"Again."
The lights began to flicker again, a current of electricity shooting through the wires and into the chains. The electricity ran down into the woman's body, forcing another ungodly scream to pierce the room. The lights returned to normal not too long after, a sign that the electricity had stopped flowing. The woman's breathing was shallow and shaky, her whole body numb with pain. She stifled back a sob, her vision blurring around the edges, her eyes fluttering. She cringed at the sound of the mirrored door opening, feebly lifting her head to see.
A blonde man in uniform—plus bomber jacket—stepped into the room alone. His expression was slightly bemused, and in his hand he had what looked like a remote control. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, keeping only a few feet away from her and sighing heavily. She glared at him pathetically, a small, weak smirk on her face. The man across from her rolled his eyes, smacking her.
"Wipe that smile off your face, Braginskaya. I will beat the information out of you."
He scowled at her, slipping off her scarf now and pulling a blade out of his pocket.
"Anya, I can play this game all day… There are stories that you had scars on your neck. That that was the reason you wore your precious scarf…" he murmured, watching as Anya flinched slightly, her smirk gone. "Let's put some real scars on it, shall we—"
"STOP!"
She shouted, right as the blade pressed at her neck. A few beads of sweat trickled down her face as the man looked at her, expecting the words he wished to hear.
"Alfred… пожалуйста…" Anya pleaded, trying to keep her voice steady.
"English, Ms. Braginskaya." he hissed, pressing the blade to her throat, causing her to whimper. "The plans? The base?"
She gulped, opening her mouth, but no noise coming out. Her breaths were as shallow as they could get, her eyes half closed in a near blackout. Both of them winced at a crashing noise from outside the door, however, causing Anya to jerk awake.
"Брат!" Someone spoke angrily in Russian on the other side. Another softer, more frantic voice was heard as well, also speaking Russian. Alfred's eyes narrowed as he reluctantly pulled the blade away from Anya's neck. He moved to the door, slipping the blade back into his pocket, as well as the remote, and instead pulled out his gun. It was suddenly silent on the other side of the door, not a sound to be heard. A short while after, the noise became deafening.
Two men had crashed through the one-way mirrors, the first one seemingly glowering at Alfred, the other a look of worry on his face.
"Igor! Get sister!" the angry one shouted, tackling Alfred, knocking his gun away.
Igor nodded to his brother, rushing over to Anya, who looked dazed and confused.
"Sister, we're so sorry we took so long! I almost got us lost and Nikolai scolded me and…" He rambled on as he undid Anya's chains, causing her to fall to the floor. She inhaled sharply, coughing up small traces of blood halfway through breathing. On the other side of the room, Nikolai and Alfred were in a fist fight, Alfred struggling to reach for his gun. They were rolling around on the broken glass, screeching furiously at each other indecipherably. There was a wild look in Nikolai's eyes, bloodthirsty almost.
"Николай!" Anya shouted, her voice somewhat raspy. She was on her feet, supported by Igor, her legs somewhat unstable. "Let's go!"
She and her brother were already hurrying out the door, Nikolai's grip slipping up on Alfred. He leaped aside, away from the American, racing after his siblings somewhat reluctantly. Anya was soon scooped up by Nikolai, making her unsure of whether to feel grateful for her brother's assistance or nervous due to his obsession with her. Alfred was quickly on his feet, gun in hand, shooting at them.
"Stop right now, Braginskaya!"
He mumbled something into a walkie-talkie, and soon enough more armed forces were surrounding the three siblings.
"Igor, come on!" Nikolai snarled, making a sharp turn, heading from around the back of the building and into the streets. They were barren and empty, being in a disclosed area of the city. A bullet grazed Nikolai's shoulder, making him hiss in frustration, dropping his sister. Anya stood up quickly, her energy slowly returning. Igor stopped to help his fallen brother.
"Go, sister! We will take care of them!" He pulled off Nikolai's coat, tossing it to her to cover herself with. She was hesitant, but gulped, nodding and sprinting towards the outer rims of the city. Not long after, the men had Nikolai and Igor constrained, but Alfred was nowhere in sight. Anya continued to run, faster and faster, not caring if Al was right behind her. So long as she got out of there, away from that hell-house, she'd be fine. She'd be alright.
The last thing she heard as she ran off into the woods was the operative calling her name.
"BRAGINSKAYA!"