Wooh Hoo! Last Chapter tonight for all of you lovely people! Thank you people who favorite and subscribed to alerts, and of course, reviewed! Love you all, and hope this isnt too heart wrenching! (My mind is pretty sick and twisted, let me warn you before hand. This has some pretty awful stuff in it. No torture yet-just ideas that I came up with for where Alison is. I didn't look anything up, I swear!) and no google translate this time though, folks. Sorry

I woke to a dull pounding, the sound of groaning, which after another thought, wasn't my own. My wrists were bound together behind my back, and upon examination, my leg had a kind of shackle on it. My head was pounding, and my whole body ached, each breath torture in itself. My ears were ringing, and my vision was slightly blurred.

I tried to take a deep breath, only to have the stabbing in my ribs remind me that I should do otherwise. I took the breaths as deep as I could, trying to focus on where I was. I didn't remember anything after the blow to my head; most likely I had gone very unconscious. I didn't care though. I tried to take in more of my surroundings.

I was lying on cement floor, dark, cold, grey cement. Using as much strength as possible, I pulled myself into a half sitting position, vision tilting for a moment. When the world righted itself, I found myself facing a wall of similar cement. I groaned, wriggled over to it, and leaned against it. I didn't think my body could support its own weight much longer. I continued to glance around, my smell slowly returning, and the putrid smell of urine, waste, sweat, and blood all hit me at the same time. I gagged, dry heaving once, then leaning back against the wall. The putrid odor was burning my throat, nose, and eyes. Suddenly, the groaning came again.

I turned my head slowly to the left, to try and focus on what it was. My vision was clearing, and in the dimly lit room, I could finally make things out. About ten feet to my right there was another figure, a shackle similar to my own connecting to the wall. I tried to make more things out in the medium light, and I could tell many things. It was a man, due to the size and shoulder width, and he had short brown hair. I noticed something else that made me blush. He was naked. Stark naked.

I must have made a sound of shock, because he turned to face me. I nearly got sick again. His face was a marring of cuts and burns, as well as his upper torso. He looked like he was in extreme pain. When he saw me though, his face seemed to brighten. I could barely catch the hoarse words he choked out.

"So? You're awake?" I nodded, unsure of what he meant. Of course I was awake. He tried to pull his lips up into a smile, but I could see him wince as the dry lines cracked and thin trickles of blood slipped out. After a moment, I seemed to gather my voice. It was harsh and dry.

"Where am I? Who are you?" He made a disgusted sound.

"You're in hell. Me, I don't know anymore." His words were so bitter, so thick with hate; I let out a small sound of shock. I hadn't meant to let it slip past my lips, but I was in such shock and delirium I didn't know how else to react. He let out a pained sigh when he heard my reaction. His voice was much softer when he spoke again.

"I'm sorry. I really don't know where we are. But for us, it is hell. It is tragic to see a kid like you here, though." He looked regretfully down at the abuse on his body. I winced as he did, for I was sure that they were very painful. I could feel a shaking through my body as I tried to piece things together. I was here because of the Russians. Roach was trying to get the Russians. They had to be connected. They wanted me because they wanted to get to Roach.

The thought hit me like a lightning bolt from a clear sky. In my mental state, I wasn't sure how I was able to piece that together, but it sure wasn't hurting me to know that. Well, now I know that I am here for one probable reason, one that I wouldn't give in to. My voice shook as I asked the question that I already knew the answer to, but somehow needed the dreaded confirmation.

"Why are we here?"

"You know that. If you are here, they want something out of you. They aren't friendly people either." I swallowed, roughly. I knew that I was about to go into territory he wouldn't rather venture into, but I wouldn't ask if I didn't feel that I needed to know.

"You?"

He sighed. "Me? I'm part of the military. I apparently know something about a plan to get some of their weapons." I shook my head.

"I'm sure you have a story. I just need- need to hear someone else talk right now."

He sighed again. "It's a sob story so far. Just going on a mission, now that I won't tell you, but they got me. In short, they knocked me out, dragged me here, and my life in hell began" He looked mournful. I winced. It was short, but painful. I gestured to his chest and face with a nod of my head.

"That?"

"Me, I sure as hell aint giving anything away. They can do all they want to me and I'm not giving up one word." I shook my head in admiration, then in sadness. He reminded me of Ghost. Ghost I am sure would say something similar, but with a few more profanities laced in. I opened my mouth to speak again, but apparently he wasn't done. His thin, dry voice suddenly picked up a chill to it.

"They can strip me of any dignity, tie me up like a dog, burn my nerves away, and cut marks through my skin, but I won't let them win. They can't win." He looked at me, and I could sense that his light brown eyes were fixed on me.

"Will you let them win? Such a young girl put through all this. I don't need to know why." I shook my head.

"I don't plan on letting them win. Not today, not ever." As I spoke, I realized what I was saying, pledging. I was saying that they could make me look like him, but I wouldn't give up one word about Roach, Ghost, or any of the Task Force. I closed my eyes with determination, and he spoke to me again.

"You don't seem like the kind of person that would give up. Most people here take a few hours to get up. You, less than that. Strong willed." I tilted my head in confusion, but made sure to nod first at the compliment. Then I realized what he said.

"Others?" With his head, he gestured around us. I swept my eyes around the room, stifling a gasp. I had only focused on the sound of the groaning, and pulled my half-conscious mind to that, but now as I looked around, things changed. The room was a large room, almost as big as the inside of a small warehouse. Everything was dark, gray cement. Every ten feet there was a person shackled to the wall. I felt faint at the sight, noticing some of the ones closer to me. All of them were men, as far as I could tell. Some larger than others, some with tattoos, some naked, others half clothed. Some were awake, others were sleeping, or unconscious for all I could tell. I looked back at him with wide eyes. All of these people here were wanted for something, some knowledge, and were tortured for it. In the center of the room there was a metal chair, and a metal cart with different devices on it.

The man must have noticed me looking, for he made a sound of confirmation, telling me it was what I thought it was. I babbled my voice unable to speak. He was gentle in his explanation.

"Some people say that if you don't know what's coming when you're tortured, it makes it worse. If you spend time dreaming on it though, if it isn't actually that bad, you are spared. Here, we know exactly what is coming for us." The words snuck down my spine in an icy, tingling chill. What kind of sick minds could think of something so cold, so cruel, yet so calculated? I guessed it made some people give up before it started. I suddenly felt sick. I was here, in a prison, condemned to torture and watching others be tortured. It was like I was caught in a hellish nightmare. I thought it as so, because this was worse than a nightmare, and much worse than hell.

Tears gripped me suddenly, pain and fear and panic all waving together in a massive wave that crashed over me, with realization of all the thoughts. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling eyes looking at me. I couldn't cry. I had to be brave. I took a short breath in, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. I pushed it all aside, no matter how much it stuck with me. I opened my eyes, clear and dry. The man's approving murmur came through the half-light.

"I knew you were strong. You can make it. Keep on being brave."

CODCODCOD

Roach was scanning the sky for any signs of a crash, smoke drifting into the air. He was gripping the gun tightly in his hands, while Ghost was beside him, doing the same. He was grumbling, while Roach was tense and taught. He had become a mess of nervousness and panic each passing minute they were in the sky, and as they neared the coordinates, Roach suddenly saw a black smoke drifting through the sky in a column up from a sight in the thin woods.

Roach yelled out, and he could tell Ghost saw it the same time he did. Ghost put a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping Roach from practically jumping out of the helicopter. Roach reluctantly sat back down at the edge, still tense, watching fearfully as the black column grew closer and closer to them. He didn't want to look down and see only a pile of smoking char. He prayed that anything less than that would be the site that met his eyes.

He was pretty close with his first thought. They passed low by the spot that was the source of the smoke, and Roach groaned in panic and dread and shock. There was the helicopter, a smoldering, crumpled mess on the ground between a few trees. Though it was hard to see everything from high in the sky, Roach couldn't detect anything moving.

"Land this piece of shit already!" He called out, even though he knew that they were looking for a spot to land. They found one about two hundred feet away shortly. As they landed, Roach jumped out before they touched down and hit the ground running. He powered himself through the thin brush and trees to the smoldering wreck, searching wildly for any signs of life. He climbed up what looked like the remains of a door and slid into the belly of the helicopter, where Alison would have been. There was nothing in there, except for the body.

Roach knelt down by it, knowing immediate it was too big to be Alison. He guessed that it was the escort, killed in the crash. Even though he knew the body had long since gone cold, and was stilled long ago, he felt for the nonexistent pulse. He found nothing. Roach pulled himself out again, and went over to the cockpit, seeing if anything was there. He was sickened by the sight that he saw, the mangled body of what had once been a lieutenant friend of his from long ago. He bowed his head for a second in mourning, before trying to get closer. He tripped on a large piece of cloth, or so it appeared.

Roach recognized it immediately. It was the backpack that Ghost had given Alison. She had been here, and if her backpack was here, she could still be alive! Roach was about to call out to Ghost when he noticed something else for the first time in the relief that came with knowing she wasn't certainly dead. There were boot prints all over the place, trampled grass and everything else all over the place. Something caught his eye, and when he knelt down, it was a piece of cloth. It appeared to Roach as if it had been ripped on a piece of metal. What it was made his stomach sink. It was fabric from a Russian uniform.

A decent length, too! How did I pull that off? :D