Sasha walked slowly through the city streets, making his way out of the downtown district back towards the neighborhood where he shared an apartment with his rat hybrid roommate. Even at this late hour the streets of Millennium City buzzed with activity. Both vehicles and pedestrians wove through the avenues, but in a less frantic pace than during the day. The augmented Russian ignored the stares from passers by, being lost in his own thoughts as he was. The awkward moment back at the club had reminded him of the time before he abandoned his home country and made his way to the united states.
He had not immediately left the country after escaping his captor. At the time he lived in his family's house with his girlfriend, Lena. The two had met not long after Sasha's father had passed, leaving him alone in the family home. Sasha had fallen into a pattern of going to work and simply coming home and little else. His co-workers at the construction firm his father had also worked at for years had been a surrogate family of sorts and had insisted on taking him out to break him out of his slump. It was during that outing that Sasha was introduced to the dark-haired, pixie-like girl who would steal his heart. Not long afterwards she had moved in with him and Sasha had found some measure of light returning to his life. That was, until the night he was taken away and thrust into the nightmare that would find him remade into beast of metal and flesh.
Sasha did not know how long he had been locked away by the man who was reconstructing him. Considering that his visible wounds were partly healed it could have been days, maybe weeks, but the agony he felt inside had barely subsided. In the pain and terror filled haze of his escape Sasha had only one thought... to get back home. He couldn't tell how far away from home he had been taken, for upon smashing his way free of the dank warehouse that had served as both prison and operating room none of the buildings seemed familiar. The newly risen cyborg let instinct and sheer determination guide him as he staggered nearly naked through the darkened, snowy streets. The journey was a blur, lasting two days, maybe more. The cries of shock and fear that greeted the bloodied bionic as people spotted him barely registered as he forced himself to carry on. Finally he collapsed on the doorstep of his home. A bedraggled and weary looking Lena opened to door to find her boyfriend sprawled on the snow-dusted ground.
"S-Sasha?"
Lena's short, dark hair was wild and unkempt from sleep, and her eyes could scarcely comprehend the horror laying before her in her sleepy state. Sasha stirred at the sound of his lover's voice, struggling to lift himself from the ground. His arms moved clumsily, slipping and scraping on the cobblestone street.
"Lena... I... I got away," Sasha managed to croak out.
"Oh my god," Lena gasped.
The comparatively tiny girl moved to help Sasha to his feet, but found him to be beyond her ability to budge. He was simply too heavy, even more so now with all the metal crammed inside and clamped to his body. Lena cringed as she saw the cruel manner in which he had been operated on. Blood dripped and oozed steadily from the points where metal and man collided, and the clanking of gears and hissing of hydraulics as the arms moved was beyond unnerving to the young woman. Eventually, with as much encouragement as Lena could muster in her shocked state, they managed to get him inside.
The following days were difficult to say the least. The fledgeling cyborg was in constant pain, and nothing seemed to help. Pills, liquor, none had any effect. Sasha flatly refused to go to a hospital. He believed the government would take him away to study, or that the man who remade him would find him there. Lena even went so far as to use some of her connections from her wilder days to buy heroine to try and ease Sasha's pain, but to no avail. The strange machines inside her lover eliminated the drug from his system almost as quickly as it was introduced.
In addition to the constant physical torment, Sasha's control over his new limbs was less than perfect. On more than one occasion he smashed something delicate like a glass or a plate simply trying to hold it. Sturdier items tended to fare better, but even then tools and other items often ended up bent or cracked in the grip of Sasha's titanically strong hands. Sasha noticed Lena keeping her distance, both physically and otherwise as she dutifully tended to him. During the days that followed his return she never even asked him what happened. She had begin sleeping in another room, as Sasha had begin to toss and turn fitfully in his sleep, in those rare moments when he could do so.
Sasha found it increasingly difficult to hide the frustration that was welling up inside him. On more than one occasion the two argued loudly about what to do next.
"But why not contact the United States embassy," Sasha asked, "If they can get us out of Russia safely..."
"What makes you think I want to leave?" Lena shouted back.
"It will be safer there, Lena," Sasha pleaded, "People like me are more widely known about and accepted. We could have a life there."
"I have a life here Sasha," Lena planted her feet and crossed her arms, he dark eyes were set in a scowl.
"But what if the government comes looking for me? Or the man that did this?" Sasha looked at one of his huge metal hands.
"Then you can stop them. You're strong now, right?"
"I'm not a fighter, Lena, I don't want to hurt people..."
"Well, people hurt you, why not repay the favor?"
"Even so... what if you were nearby... something could happen and..."
"I can't talk about this right now..." Lena held up a hand dismissively and turned to walk away.
"Don't walk away from me!"
Sasha growled and lashed out slapping the wall next to him, leaving a vaguely palm-shaped crater in the sheet rock and sending a tremor through the entire house. Lena jumped and spun to face Sahsha, her eyes wide with shock. Sasha stared at the wall, then at Lena.
"I'm sorry I... I didnt mean to..." Sasha stammered.
Lena backed away slowly, never taking her fearful gaze off of Sasha.
"Don't be afraid Lena, I would never hurt..." Sasha moved forward reaching one hand out towards Lena to touch her arm.
"Don't touch me!" Lena flinched and pulled away.
Sasha recoiled, pulling his hand back, "I can fix the wall..." he murmured.
Lena's eyes filled with tears and she shook her head. Without another word she turned and made for the door.
"Lena... where are you...?"
There was no answer, only the sound was the sound of the door slamming.
Sasha waited for almost three weeks. Though his incisions were healed now, he dared not leave the house for fear of being spotted and either abducted again or arrested and detained by the government. Food was running low. The power had been shut off. Sasha sat for hours in the dark, still struggling with the grinding pain in his body and the futile hope that his girlfriend would return. Finally, one morning, Sasha calmly got dressed, patiently fumbling with a shirt, removing the sleeves first and slipping it one along with a pair of jeans. He slipped on his work boots, leaving the laces tucked simply tucked inside as he had yet to be able to get them tied with his huge metal fingers. Having dressed and brushed out his tangled hair he gathered up a few mementos, a photo of his parents, his fathers stop watch, and stood in the center of his family home. Sasha looked about eying the walls of the building he had grown up in, now dark and silent.
Sasha began to breathe deeply and heavily. An angry sneer crept onto the normally stoic man's face. His metal hands clenched and the chains inside his shoulders rattled as they ratcheted into action. A cry of anger, loss, and anguish well up in his throat and finally escaped. Sasha lashed out, sending a metal fist crashing effortlessly through the wall nearby. And then again, sending chunks of wood and plaster flying. Over and over he slammed his arms into his ancestral home, rending it asunder. After only a few minutes the whole structure shuddered, and with a groan listed to one side and collapsed, throwing up a cloud of dust. Seconds later, Sasha burst forth from the remains of the house, sending a spray of debris flying out before him. He was covered in dust, bits of plaster and wood splinters. He spared a glance back towards the crumbled, smashed wreck of his family home. A crowd of shocked onlookers had begun to gather, keeping a fearful distance from the massive bionic man who was once their neighbor. Sasha ignored them, and calmly walked away, heading towards Moscow and the U.S./U.N.T.I.L. embassy therein.
That was almost five years ago. U.S. and U.N.T.I.L. officials had helped get Sasha out of the country and into the United States. In return, Sasha pledged to help U.N.T.I.L. forces when required of him, as his titanic strength could certainly be of use when facing down some of the more dangerous super-powered individuals that had turned to criminal activity. Sasha had, thankfully, rarely been called upon for such, having only been summoned twice since his defection, and was, for the most part, left to his own devices since relocating.
Sasha turned a corner, stepping onto the sidewalk now just a few blocks away from the apartment he shared with Pack Rat. He was still a bit lost in his memories when the screech of tires behind him and shouts of alarm snapped him to attention. The bionic man whirled around. The massive form of a semi truck, with some kind of tanker trailer attached, loomed into view. The vehicle was barreling down the relatively narrow street at a breakneck pace, and sparks few as the truck squeezed passed other smaller cars. Sasha had just a few seconds to react. A quick glance revealed the pedestrians had cleared out of the path of the truck, but a small public transportation bus, the kinds senior citizens and the disabled use to get around the city, was stopped in the street to unload a couple of passengers, and elderly couple, both using walkers. They were frozen in place, eyes wide with terror.
Sasha narrowed his eyes, looked back to the oncoming truck, and dashed into the street. He gritted his teeth, and dug in his heels. The chains in his shoulders clattered and the hydraulic pistons in his arms hissed as he thrusts his arms forward and dug his heels in, leaning forward into the blow as the truck plowed into him. Metal screeched against metal as the huge vehicle's momentum forced Sasha back. The front of the truck buckled and nearly wrapped around the mechanical man as he defied the truck's momentum. The asphalt crumbled as Sasha's feet, digging two deep parallel furrows in the street. The trailer behind the cab of the truck crumpled slightly, then slipped to the side and tipped over, smashing into buildings on either side of the street and shearing off portions of their fronts. The noise was deafening as the sound echoed off the tall, closely set structures. The added friction slowed the out-of-control vehicle slightly, but Sasha was still smashed against the back of the small bus as he brought the whole affair to a grinding halt. The driver of the small community bus, himself a middle aged black man, just barely managed to hop free and usher the elderly Caucasian couple clear of the bus as it suddenly lurched forward about ten feet.
There was a brief pause, then the grinding of metal and chains was heard as Sasha began to pry himself free. The community bus, being the lighter of the two vehicles pinning Sasha, moved first, sliding forward just enough for the Russian to slip free. He collapsed to his knees in the street. Dark red, wet stains were beginning to spread across his torn clothing, though the red shirt and dark vest and pants made them less than immediately obvious. Sasha's breathing was ragged and labored. He could feel a sharp, grinding pain in his chest. While Sasha's arms, spine, pelvis, and legs were all reinforced to carry the weight of his augmentations, his ribs were not so lucky.
The sound of the cab door opening caught the mechanical man's attention and he looked up to see a figure hop down from the cab and dash into a nearby alleyway. It was moving too fast in the dim light to get a clear look at it. Sasha started to shout after the figured and move to pursue, but the pain in his chest stole the strength from him and he crumpled to the ground. The bus driver dashed to his side, the name tag on his blue uniform identified his as "Preston."
"Hey buddy, you alright? Ah! You're bleeding." Preston pulled his hand back, it was coated in red.
"Stitches... from earlier. My... ribs... broken... I think..." Sasha managed to gasp out.
"Just relax man, lay down," Preston struggled to help the massive man onto his back, "Somebody dial 911," he commanded a bystander, who complied using their cellular phone.
"Have to catch... driver... ran..." Sasha coughed.
"He's long gone man. Just sit tight. Help's coming. You're tore up, but man, you did a great thing there. Saved me and that couple. Thanks." Preston reassured Sasha.
Sasha gave Preston a faint grin and a thumbs up and waited for the paramedics to arrive.