(Okay, this chapter isn't as juicy as the following chapters, but the story must progress! ;)

A small mist had broken the normally arid Western sky as Nadia saw the Mercedes pull on to and barrel down the air strip towards her plane. Steve's unconscious form was unloaded from the back of the car and loaded in to an awaiting cage stored in a special compartment located on the bottom of the plane. It was going to be a long flight, and she didn't plan to have to worry about her cargo complaining and making the trip unnecessarily annoying.

Some would consider Nadia sadistic in the manner that she was in the slave trade market, but normally she did not relish her job on the level that she actually took joy in inflicting pain on her slaves. Slaves needed to be properly trained before they were either sold off or loaned out for a time before being returned their freedom. Most of her slaves were indentured or voluntary, and very few came into her hands unwillingly or at least not without it being their own choice whether through bad decisions making them owe the mob money or true masochists looking for an avenue into the twenty-four/seven lifestyle.

Steve was not the first to suffer such a fate of actual complete slavery; she had on rare occasions been privy to it happening before. Most were women with drug habits caught stealing from their gangster boyfriends or promiscuous and caught cheating on them which was equally as stupid in the underworld. Nadia had never felt sorry for them, but she had also never gone out of her way to give them any special attention either. Most true slaves were trained and sold to third world sultan harems to never be seen or heard of again. This was, however, the first time Nadia had ever had a personal investment in the matter making the task of training Steve delectably challenging for her. She would enjoy breaking him down before she sold him off to the highest bidder.

Steve's throat burned and his head swam with dizziness. His stomach lurched, and his eyes blinked in confusion as his mind tried to process exactly what had happened to him and where he currently was. His head was aching in a drug induced stupor as he groaned lifting his head up off of the floor to take in his surroundings. He was in a steel enforced cage with solid three inch thick bars and metal mesh crisscrossing wire in between the bars which made it impossible to stick his hands through. The floor of the cage was spacious enough to sprawl out length wise and width wise, but the ceiling of the cage only stood at about four feet tall. Steve deduced it was likely meant for transporting a big animal like a lion or tiger, and in this case him; 'But to where?' he pondered forebodingly.

The last thing he remembered was the iron-like grasp of one of Moscov's henchmen on his shoulder, his mouth and nose being covered by a rag covered in a potent fume which he could only guess was chloroform, and fighting the overwhelming need to float away into the darkness as Moscov watched on with moderate disinterest.

Where ever he was, he was moving, and it wasn't in a vehicle... A boat maybe? A plane? It was too smooth to be a boat, so it had to be a plane. His stomach did a flip-flop terrified of the thought of being brought out of the US. There were places in the world where there were no rules; too many places fit that particular venue. He had been in some of them, and he had seen the seedier and uglier sides or these countries where the police were paid to turn the other way while horrors and atrocities took place right in front of them.

A shiver went up Steve's spine as he scrunched up into a ball against the cold steel bars. He wished this was all a bad, horrible dream, and that maybe if he believed hard enough he would wake up in his bed it having all been a horrible nightmare ...but he knew that wasn't going to happen just as he knew his actions in life had led him to where he was now. He had to question if he deserved this; did anyone deserve this? All these thoughts had muddled his brain into an incoherent numbness, he was exhausted beyond belief, and the constant terror had only served to wear him out even further. He let his troubled thoughts drift away into a less than comfortable dreamless sleep as he was grateful for the small bit of solitude in the darkness.

"He is sleeping ma'am," Kristof notified Nadia as she sipped on her Chardonnay and lounged back in her seat.

She nodded her approval and stated, "Let him, and when he wakes inform me."

The man bowed his head and replied, "Certainly," before heading back the way he had come.

Steve remained unconscious for a good six hours only waking due to slight turbulence. His eyes tiredly assessed that he was still lying in a cage headed to only God knew where. He stretched his body out and rolled to his side instantly hissing at the forgotten welts covering his backside.

Within moments a florescent light showered through the darkness leaving speckled mesh shadows to dance down through the cage's roof as heavy footsteps approached. Through the cage's mesh lining, Steve could see an outline of what looked like high laced combat boots encompassing thick calves and leading upward to a very stocky heavyset man wearing a blue, black, and grey checkered flannel shirt and whose stance was quite intimidating. The man asked nicely in a heavy Russian accent, "You are awake. Would you like come out now for little time?"

Not sure what to make of this new person and what 'out' would entail, Steve hesitated before asking his own question, "What are you going to do with me?"

The man's chest rumbled with a small chuckle as he answered, "It is not I you must worry about little one. Now then, you come out. I let you use latrine. Yes?"

Steve hadn't thought about it until now, but once it was mentioned, he became conscious of the fact that he really did have to go. Even though the stranger's ominous words left him feeling a little uneasy to leave the confines of the cage, he didn't want to end up pissing himself later because he had refused to take the opportunity now, and so he muttered out, "Yeah, sure. I gotta pee like a racehorse."

As the man opened the door, he extended his hand down to him to help Steve stand. Steve looked at the large calloused hand warily; it was at least twice the size of his own he realized. Under normal circumstances, he would have scowled and refused any help, but with his recent treatment any benevolence bestowed upon him was gladly accepted. He grasped the man's meaty paw as he crawled forward to propel himself up to a standing position. Steve let go of his hand as his eyes traveled up to meet the other man's stare. Steve backed away a tad to regain a little personal space and mumbled out a soft, "Thanks."

The man smiled down at him standing a little more than half a head taller than Steve and twice as wide as he responded, "My name is Raphael. I am informed to take you upstairs after you taken care of. You will be good yes?"

Steve crooked an eyebrow at Raphael wanting to say something snide about the man's poorly broken English, but he bit his tongue and just nodded his compliance.

Raphael's mouth split to reveal a huge cheery grin that Steve relaxed under. The man seemed nice enough even with the burly woodsmen exterior with most of his face covered in a thick black beard and eyebrows that grew up the length of half of his forehead.

Raphael extended his hand forward in a gesture that told Steve to walk in the stated direction. Steve followed the command, and Raphael's other hand moved in to rest in between Steve's shoulders to guide him further.

Steve didn't like this new closeness Raphael had taken as his size was still quite intimidating, but Steve wasn't about to chance pissing the man off as he let Raphael lead him to the back of the plane where the restroom was located.

Steve noticed as they walked that there were several cages lining the right side of the plane with about five feet of spacing in between each one. There were a total of six, but from what he could tell, he was the only one that had currently occupied any of them.

He wasn't allowed any privacy, but that hadn't really shocked him. Raphael was nice enough to at least look away which was something. He washed his hands and with permission washed his face as well. The cool water felt good, like washing away some of his troubled thoughts that were predominating his mind. He was starting to feel like a human being again as he was led back down the corridor and up out of the cargo hold into the belly of the plane.

The cabin of the plane was quite posh decorated in fine white leather and fluffy beige shag carpeting. The walls were lined in a fine wood paneling and illuminated with small precisely placed lights that gave it a comfortable homey glow. The plane was well kept, but Steve could tell by the creases in the leather, it was also frequently used.

As he entered the room, he saw that there were five dangerous looking men playing cards in a C-shaped booth with a cloud of cigarette smoke engulfing them. They all stopped chatting and turned to glare menacingly at him as he passed into the second part of the cabin. He was glad the encounter was brief and hoped what was to come would be more pleasant, but he didn't have high hopes.

The second part of the cabin was more secular in its design with a green and white swirled marble table solidly set in the right corner of the room like a restaurant style nook with plush green leather cushioned seats. Along the wall was a bar lined with thick planks of walnut stained wood that was decorated with squared mirror flecks that reflected the ceiling's lights nicely. Across the top of the bar wine glasses were neatly hung, and below that sat an ice station, a sink, and a liquor cabinet. On the opposite end of the room was a set of four recliners set in a semi circle with an LCD projector placed behind the seats for either first class movie theater style viewing or giving PowerPoint presentations to business associates.

In one of the recliners sat Nadia holding a wine glass. Steve's blood ran cold and a small sweat broke out across his brow at the recognition. She smiled darkly at him and motioned to the table asking, "Would you like something to eat?"

Steve stood frozen for a moment as the previous terror he'd felt ran its course sending chills to cascade down his spine and the hair on the back of his neck to rise. He swiveled his head to look over to the table she had pointed to. On top of the table sat a set of silverware, a glass of ice water, and a dish with the contents hidden under a domed cover. A cloth napkin lay artistically draped across the middle of the cover giving it a classy touch.

The meal's aroma immediately assaulted his nostrils as it wafted in his direction; whatever was under that cover Steve assumed if the smell was any indication, it would be delicious, and his mouth watered as the burger he'd eaten earlier hadn't done much to fill him.

Steve's eyes drifted back to Nadia as he responded guardedly, "Yeah…"

Understanding why Steve would be cautious, Nadia stated casually, "Go sit down at the table and eat; it is a long flight."

The burning question that entered his mind at that moment was, 'A long flight to where?' but he didn't ask because the truth be told, he really didn't want to know. Wherever it was he was going, he was certain it wasn't any place he was going to want to be.