January 1969
It was his third day in the same room. His leg was injured from his scrimage with Stitch two days ago. He was holding his own quite well until the other man dragged his knife out and stabbed it into Anthony's thigh. He had tomimprovise and rip off both his sleeves to stop the bleeding. By a miracle it did stop, after losing quite a bit of it.
He was in pain. Not just from a lack of food, water or rest. But also in mental pain. He knew being in league with Perseus would require background knowledge but it still bothered him how they knew about this incident. Talking about it nearly made him want to vomit. It tore him apart. Could he even trust what Stitch was telling him? Theres no way any of his family would have surived that. They would have to have been immortal. But what if somehow she was alive? What if the enemies took her, and staged a fake body.. all the what ifs.
"NO." He thought to himself. "They are dead. All of them. Every single last one, deceased."
Within the past few days he had been beaten, starved, and nearly bled to death. Not once had he slipped up, just threw insult after insult at his intterogator, even called his mother a melon. He was curious to know what today would hold.
"We're not playing games today Petrov." Stitch huffed as he marched into the room. He walked over to the weakened boy who leaned against the wall, his head nearly limp. His eyes were heavy, his head was killing him from the many surfaces it had come in contact with in the last few days. He felt himself being reatrained back to his chair. Stitch set a candle on the table. Its the first light he had seen since he knocked out the dangeling lamp on the first day.
He kept his gaze on the dim light, he felt trapped in a state between conscious and unconsciouss. "I'm not telling you what you want to know." He mumbled.
"And why is that?" Stitch asked, sliding a metal tub of water across the floor.
"Because I'm sure you already know. Your one of Perseus' best men. You just have files on this sort of stuff, I assume anyways."
"But I want to hear it from the horse's mouth." He brought the candle close to Anthony's face.
He winced, feeling the heat close to his face. Stitch untied one of the restraints on Anthony's arm. He outstretched his arm and planted the candle on the skin.
Anthony cried out in pain. He laid his face against the cold surface of the table. He looked up to see the red door, the only thing trapping him inside of this hell.
Two hours later and another arm later he finally gave something up.
"Did you kill them?!" Stitch shouted.
"Did I?!" This was the most alive he had seemed since a few days ago. "Those Britts did! Had I made it home just a little bit sooner I could have..-" he cut himself off there, realising his main goal.
"Yes. You were too late, much to late. Your family was dying, burining, and you did nothing.." He crouched beside the boy and spoke beside his ear. "From the reports it seemed like the tragedy was intentional. Ironic that you were the only one left alive. I guess we know who the problem is. If you were not a part of that family, they would still be alive and thriving, unburdened by your troublemaking habits." He was like a serpent in his ear. But he bought every lie.
"I.. I know." His voice broke, tears slowly trickling down his face as he looked down. "I should have killed them myself. If anyone was to ever harm them it should have been me, not them." He said calmly. "Over time I might have been able to forgive myself, call it some twister justice. But to have mercy on the enemy, only miracles can do that." He hissed.
"So what happened? What did you see, what did you find?" Stitch asked, very suggestive.
He didn't respond. He made up his mind he was done talking about the matter and that he won't for a quite a time.
"Idiot." Stitch leaned his chair back and submerged his head under the water. Ask a question, no answer, back under. Repeat, times eight. He had a grace period for about an hour before Stitch came back and started all over again. It took up the entire day. When night came, oxygen levels were purposley lowered. Not to mention the freezing temperature, it felt colder in there than it would outside. Each night was no different, he would always hallucinate. Sometimes he saw disfigured beings, almost like something out of a nightmare. One time he thought he saw his father.
He stared off into the black void surrounding him. Stitch took the candle with him after using it for intterogation. Being repeatedly dunked underwater made him shiver, if these tactics didn't kill him than hypothermia would.
His last two days were finally up. Almost every form of intterogation one could think of, he endured it. Fear, pain, psychological... every tool that was ever used to pick apart ones mind. All except the most drastic, which of course wouldn't be neccessary since their goal was never to kill him to begin with.
His arms were covered with blood as well as his leg. He was shivering cold. So when he heard a gentle knock on the door he thought it was just another hallucination. He was leaned up against the wall, his head agianst a plank of wood for support. When he heard the door open he only had enough strength to open his eyes.
Pentrenko stood over him.
"Did he make it?" Perseus asked approaching from behind Pentrenko.
"It seems so." They both stood over him.
"Stitch, get him to the medical bay." Perseus turned towards the door and ushered for him to tend to the young soldier.
The two men left the room, leaving Anthony and Stitch.
"Thank you, comrade." He had a look in his eye when he spoke. Most would assume his thanks for the assitance to stand. He wanted him to know his appreciation for giving him a mind set. When he was well again he would make sure of it that he would take a position next to Perseus. And if that was Kuzmin's position, so be it.
He heard the red door shut behind him. It is behind that door where he decided to leave behind all his most hidden secrets.
January 15, 1969
Antonov had come to visit and get Anthony out of the medbay on his last day of bed rest.
"You look terrible." The man chuckled.
"Nice to see you again." Anthony laughed as they shook hands.
"Where did they take you? People keep asking where these people are dissapearing to and the only response we get is "a quiet place". He sat in a chair beside the bed.
"You haven't gone yet?" He gave a sad look.
"No, should I concerned?" Antonov looked worried.
"Very." He replied, no expression on his face.
"They're making everyone do a week of interrogation. It all depends on how you handle it, and if you can make it out alive." He realised what he said and looker back at his friend. "But listen comrade, you will do great. Just remember, you will come out stronger than you ever were before. They can't break you, don't let them."
"Right." He cleared his throat. "Let's get you out of here, you've got some drilling to catch up on.
October 1969
After months of even more intense training he had drastically improved. He learned to be steady when he aimed his weapon, ignore the ear peircing sound of a bullet leaving the weapon.
"Fire!" Pentrenko ordered a line of his soldiers. They all spun on their heels and shot at the target. It seemed as if he never missed.
Every month or so they would be called for intterogation. And each time he returned from the room, he left more and more of his youth behind, until there was no more. There was only a soldier.
His hand to hand combat was arguably the best that he could easily rival Stitch. And he did.
This time Perseus and other men he had never seen before came to watch. Soldiers cleared part of the circle for them to watch as well.
"Make sure he doesn't get up." Antonov said to hisnfriend before the fight started.
The fight didn't last nearly as long as they thought.
He was pushed bavkwards, towards the crowd. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see a man with black hair and glasses shove him back into the small circle.
Stitch tripped him up, forcing the younger man to land on his stomach. He felt a grip tighten around his throat. Thinking quickly, he reached for a decent sized rock and bashed it against the side of the other man's head.
The grip was released and rushed back to his feet. He laid in a few punches before the final blow. He placed his leg on the back of Stitch's neck with one swift kick. The man dropped to the grass, unconsciouss. He felt powerful. The soldiers around him cheered, some boo'd but most cheered.
"That was amazing!" Antonov came from behind him.
"Perhaps with our improvements they'll actually place us in a squad." He smiled.
"Who are those men over there?" Antonov pointed towards Perseus and the others.
"I have no idea." He wasn't exactly lying. While he was one of the very few people who knew what Perseus looked like, he didn't know who those other men were with him.
"They must be here to observe and receuit." Antonov said.
"They'll most likely take us."
"Lets hope so."
Later that night everyone was sound asleep in their bunks. Anthony couldn't sleep, he kept tossing and turning. He was growing impatient. How much longer would he and Antonov have to wait before they could be deployed?
He saw a figure poke it's head in through the door. The shadow looked directly at him and waved for him to follow before slipping back out the door. Anthony sat up and grabbed his pistol from underneath his pillow. Putting his boots on, he got up from bed.
Curious, he walked outside the door to see Pentrenko. "Can I help you sir?" The light in the hallway was blinding at first.
"Here, put this on. Follow me." He tossed Anthony a coat.
He complied and tucked his weapon inside the pocket. They made their way towards the front of the building where a vehicle awaited them. They both got inside the massive cargo truck.
Perseus was seated on his left and Pentrenko on his right.
"Couldn't sleep?" Perseus asked him.
"No.." he looked at him, wondering how he knew. "Can someone tell me where we're going." He asked as the truck began to move.
"Let's talk then." He replied.