The armored car rumbled softly down a dirt path, red and pink rays of light
from the sunset blinding the men in it.
Sergei closed his eyes and thought. Thought about how the Chinese could've known where they were, who told them. There was no way it was a lucky guess, because Arkhangel'sk was one of the most desolate places in all of Russia these days. And someone had told them... Li... Liquis something or other.
"Here we are, friends," announced the old Chinese chief.
Sergei and his men were roughly grabbed from the truck and led towards a poorly erected two - story building. The wind whipped up at their faces and drove sand into their eyes. Sergei quickly regarded the building and tried to note any possible exits from the building in case the need arose.
A door opened up and Sergei walked through. A small, dimly lit room opened up before his eyes. He was seated at a small wooden table along with his Wraiths. They eyed each other nervously as a small door in the back of the room creaked open and a cloaked stranger emerged.
Sergei sensed unease as the stranger untied his sash that bound the cloak to him. Two pale white hands pulled the cloak off gently. Now Sergei was getting seriously unnerved, as the man's boots clicked the ground with each passing step. His face still shrouded in shadow, he moved ever closer and closer to the table.
Then the man's face materialized out of the dark, and Sergei could have swore his heart stopped for a brief second. He would've recognized the wispy pale gray hair and distinctive features anywhere.
Before him stood the leader of the Scarlet Wraiths, Crimson Bear.
Crimson looked each man in the room straight in the face. At a flick of his wrist, the Chinese vaporized into thin air. Each and every one simply vanished before their very eyes.
Sergei leaped up, startled. "What the hell?!"
"All an image. A recreation of true soldiers, but just a highly advanced VR Simulation. Takes advantage of the electromagnetic spectrum.... truly one of the marvels of modern science."
Sergei eyed his commander inquisitively. "What are you doing here, sir?"
Crimson Bear sat down and solemnly stared at the floor. A glance at Sergei and he started talking.
"Sergei, do you know how you ended up as the greatest soldier on Russian soil?"
"I worked very hard, toiled under my own sweat and blood to be transformed from a lowly orphan to the soldier I am today, sir."
A chuckle escaped Crimson Bear's throat. "Sergei..... do you remember your mother?"
Sergei searched deep within his soul for an answer. The feeling was their again, that feeling of loneliness, of another entity blocking his train of thought. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't say that I remember her at all."
Crimson continued to stare at the floor. "I'd better tell you a few things about myself, Sergei. My real name is not Jakob Metriski. My real name is Jack.....Jack Raiden."
"With all due respect, sir, why the hell do you have an American name?" A deep emphasis of contempt on the word 'American'.
"Because I am an American, Sergei, born and raised."
Sergei was stunned. "Well, sir, you certainly had me fooled." He couldn't believe it. The Americans had chosen to "stay out of this war", to quote President Hemingway.
What was that? A flash ran before Sergei's eyes. A dream tantalized his mind's eye.... It was a dark, cloudy, rainy night...... a blackened structure loomed out of the night.....
Raiden looked at Sergei now, with a sort of fatherly respect for the young man. "I figured that at twenty - two you would be old enough to understand. Sergei, its about your mother. Your whole past, to be precise. You need to know about it... now if not more than before.
"Sergei, I moved to Russia to follow you. Call it what you want, but I did it as a favor to your mother. Your mother, Sergei, did not die in the fire that burned down your house. Your mother, Sergei.... her name is not Mishna. Her name is Olga."
"Olga Gurlukovich? Leader of the Gurlukovich Mercenaries?"
Raiden smiled. "That would be her."
Sergei violently stood up and threw the chair backwards. "What the hell did you do to my mother?! Answer me, goddamn it!"
Raiden backed away and aimed the Russian P-q4 automatic rifle directly between Sergei's eyes. "I knew this would happen. Sergei, I'm sorry...... I'm sorry about what I have to do right now...."
In the blink of an eye, a dozen fully armed Chinese soldiers burst through the door and wrapped Sergei up in a dark mesh blanket. As he was dragged out of the door, he still heard Crim... Raiden muttering to himself.
"I'm sorry..........so sorry, Sergei......."
Sergei was thrown roughly into the back of a van. Seconds later the butt of a gun connected with his temple, sending him into a state of unconsciousness.
The van rumbled off towards the horizon.
*~*~*
Back at the building, the solitary light flicked out, cascading the room around it into deep blackness. No sound arose from the depths.
And almost immediately there appeared two sharp slits in the night sky, razors piercing through an impenetrable wall in front of them. A soft phantom of a scuttling noise echoed down the hallway.
Then radio static came in and a smooth, rich Italian voice began speaking.
"He is here, Shepherd..... Yes, I-...... You will be assured that he is not going anywhere for the time being.... Yes, Sir.......Yes. I understand. Widow out."
The two gleaming jewels then focused on the floor, staring at an almost distinguishable gray figure on the floor.
A screech and a swish duly noted the exit of the mysterious assailant into the oblivion of the night sky. The meter thick walls of the building failed in their attempt to stop the intruder from leaving.
A soft whimper escaped from the lump on the floor.
*~*~*
"Wake the prisoner up. We're almost there."
Sergei felt a stab in his arm as something was injected into him. Fire coursed through his veins. His vision came swimming back into view before his eyes, and he noted the van slowing to a halt. The tires crunched on something underneath... sounded like..... snow.
No wonder I'm so cold, Sergei thought to himself. He tried to look at himself, but his head was bound tightly to the floor by some leather straps. His arms and legs were bound in the same fashion. He couldn't guess at how long he had been out, but it must have been a while for his arms and legs were aching with stiffness.
As the truck stopped, Sergei heard everything that went on outside of the truck, even through the steel walls. It sounded like two men had emerged from the cabin of the van, one walking off into the distance, while one came closer to the sliding door in the back of the van where Sergei was being held.
Locks unlatched and the blinding winter sun came streaming in to greet Sergei's hungry eyes. He blinked and focused on the man who was unlocking him from his bondages on the floor. He wore a dull green jumpsuit and had a mustache and long sideburns. Sergei knew it wasn't smart to try anything even close to escape under these circumstances. The man in front of him carried several fully - loaded Uzi sub - machine guns. Quite primitive guns, but enough for a lowly prisoner.
Sergei also noted the appearance of two extra guards wielding the native Russian Pq-4 Assault Hybrid Rifle. He also noticed that once he was free, he couldn't move his arms and legs even if he wanted to; they must have been affected by the fire injection in his arm.
The man slung Sergei over his shoulder like an oversized sack of potatoes. Sergei could not lift his head to look at his surroundings, so he stared at the dirty snow lying on the ground.
A short walk and the burly man carrying Sergei initiated conversation with another man. They did not speak in English or Russian; Sergei could not understand a word they were saying. They chuckled briefly, and then Sergei was off again. He saw as the snow underfoot changed to clean, silver metal and heard the electronic swish of a door as it opened and admitted the two men.
Sergei was drifting off as he was lifted off the man's shoulders with notable ease and placed on a bed in the corner of a small room. The man looked solemnly back at Sergei as he walked away. Instantly there appeared an almost undetectable glass wall, thoroughly blocking Sergei from any hope of escape.
He attempted once again to lift his head, but instead roved his eyes from side to side to try and gain an accurate description of the place he was being held in.
An almost beige tone hung on the walls. Mixed with the shiny white and silver base, the walls were actually quite interesting to look at. Sergei regarded the black letters strewn across the top corner of the wall. They read: SIBERIAN SUBTERRANEAN JAILING AUTHORITY.
He didn't need the sign to tell him he was in Siberia, however. The freezing weather and profuse snow gave that away. But subterranean? Was he underground this whole time?
Suddenly his brain ached from all this thinking in his weakened state, and he decided to rest again. His eyes closed slowly, and his mind drifted off to the place where dreams are born.
But not all the eyes in the room had closed. Two more hung from the wall behind Sergei's head. Two gleaming red jewels.
These eyes never closed.
Sergei closed his eyes and thought. Thought about how the Chinese could've known where they were, who told them. There was no way it was a lucky guess, because Arkhangel'sk was one of the most desolate places in all of Russia these days. And someone had told them... Li... Liquis something or other.
"Here we are, friends," announced the old Chinese chief.
Sergei and his men were roughly grabbed from the truck and led towards a poorly erected two - story building. The wind whipped up at their faces and drove sand into their eyes. Sergei quickly regarded the building and tried to note any possible exits from the building in case the need arose.
A door opened up and Sergei walked through. A small, dimly lit room opened up before his eyes. He was seated at a small wooden table along with his Wraiths. They eyed each other nervously as a small door in the back of the room creaked open and a cloaked stranger emerged.
Sergei sensed unease as the stranger untied his sash that bound the cloak to him. Two pale white hands pulled the cloak off gently. Now Sergei was getting seriously unnerved, as the man's boots clicked the ground with each passing step. His face still shrouded in shadow, he moved ever closer and closer to the table.
Then the man's face materialized out of the dark, and Sergei could have swore his heart stopped for a brief second. He would've recognized the wispy pale gray hair and distinctive features anywhere.
Before him stood the leader of the Scarlet Wraiths, Crimson Bear.
Crimson looked each man in the room straight in the face. At a flick of his wrist, the Chinese vaporized into thin air. Each and every one simply vanished before their very eyes.
Sergei leaped up, startled. "What the hell?!"
"All an image. A recreation of true soldiers, but just a highly advanced VR Simulation. Takes advantage of the electromagnetic spectrum.... truly one of the marvels of modern science."
Sergei eyed his commander inquisitively. "What are you doing here, sir?"
Crimson Bear sat down and solemnly stared at the floor. A glance at Sergei and he started talking.
"Sergei, do you know how you ended up as the greatest soldier on Russian soil?"
"I worked very hard, toiled under my own sweat and blood to be transformed from a lowly orphan to the soldier I am today, sir."
A chuckle escaped Crimson Bear's throat. "Sergei..... do you remember your mother?"
Sergei searched deep within his soul for an answer. The feeling was their again, that feeling of loneliness, of another entity blocking his train of thought. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't say that I remember her at all."
Crimson continued to stare at the floor. "I'd better tell you a few things about myself, Sergei. My real name is not Jakob Metriski. My real name is Jack.....Jack Raiden."
"With all due respect, sir, why the hell do you have an American name?" A deep emphasis of contempt on the word 'American'.
"Because I am an American, Sergei, born and raised."
Sergei was stunned. "Well, sir, you certainly had me fooled." He couldn't believe it. The Americans had chosen to "stay out of this war", to quote President Hemingway.
What was that? A flash ran before Sergei's eyes. A dream tantalized his mind's eye.... It was a dark, cloudy, rainy night...... a blackened structure loomed out of the night.....
Raiden looked at Sergei now, with a sort of fatherly respect for the young man. "I figured that at twenty - two you would be old enough to understand. Sergei, its about your mother. Your whole past, to be precise. You need to know about it... now if not more than before.
"Sergei, I moved to Russia to follow you. Call it what you want, but I did it as a favor to your mother. Your mother, Sergei, did not die in the fire that burned down your house. Your mother, Sergei.... her name is not Mishna. Her name is Olga."
"Olga Gurlukovich? Leader of the Gurlukovich Mercenaries?"
Raiden smiled. "That would be her."
Sergei violently stood up and threw the chair backwards. "What the hell did you do to my mother?! Answer me, goddamn it!"
Raiden backed away and aimed the Russian P-q4 automatic rifle directly between Sergei's eyes. "I knew this would happen. Sergei, I'm sorry...... I'm sorry about what I have to do right now...."
In the blink of an eye, a dozen fully armed Chinese soldiers burst through the door and wrapped Sergei up in a dark mesh blanket. As he was dragged out of the door, he still heard Crim... Raiden muttering to himself.
"I'm sorry..........so sorry, Sergei......."
Sergei was thrown roughly into the back of a van. Seconds later the butt of a gun connected with his temple, sending him into a state of unconsciousness.
The van rumbled off towards the horizon.
*~*~*
Back at the building, the solitary light flicked out, cascading the room around it into deep blackness. No sound arose from the depths.
And almost immediately there appeared two sharp slits in the night sky, razors piercing through an impenetrable wall in front of them. A soft phantom of a scuttling noise echoed down the hallway.
Then radio static came in and a smooth, rich Italian voice began speaking.
"He is here, Shepherd..... Yes, I-...... You will be assured that he is not going anywhere for the time being.... Yes, Sir.......Yes. I understand. Widow out."
The two gleaming jewels then focused on the floor, staring at an almost distinguishable gray figure on the floor.
A screech and a swish duly noted the exit of the mysterious assailant into the oblivion of the night sky. The meter thick walls of the building failed in their attempt to stop the intruder from leaving.
A soft whimper escaped from the lump on the floor.
*~*~*
"Wake the prisoner up. We're almost there."
Sergei felt a stab in his arm as something was injected into him. Fire coursed through his veins. His vision came swimming back into view before his eyes, and he noted the van slowing to a halt. The tires crunched on something underneath... sounded like..... snow.
No wonder I'm so cold, Sergei thought to himself. He tried to look at himself, but his head was bound tightly to the floor by some leather straps. His arms and legs were bound in the same fashion. He couldn't guess at how long he had been out, but it must have been a while for his arms and legs were aching with stiffness.
As the truck stopped, Sergei heard everything that went on outside of the truck, even through the steel walls. It sounded like two men had emerged from the cabin of the van, one walking off into the distance, while one came closer to the sliding door in the back of the van where Sergei was being held.
Locks unlatched and the blinding winter sun came streaming in to greet Sergei's hungry eyes. He blinked and focused on the man who was unlocking him from his bondages on the floor. He wore a dull green jumpsuit and had a mustache and long sideburns. Sergei knew it wasn't smart to try anything even close to escape under these circumstances. The man in front of him carried several fully - loaded Uzi sub - machine guns. Quite primitive guns, but enough for a lowly prisoner.
Sergei also noted the appearance of two extra guards wielding the native Russian Pq-4 Assault Hybrid Rifle. He also noticed that once he was free, he couldn't move his arms and legs even if he wanted to; they must have been affected by the fire injection in his arm.
The man slung Sergei over his shoulder like an oversized sack of potatoes. Sergei could not lift his head to look at his surroundings, so he stared at the dirty snow lying on the ground.
A short walk and the burly man carrying Sergei initiated conversation with another man. They did not speak in English or Russian; Sergei could not understand a word they were saying. They chuckled briefly, and then Sergei was off again. He saw as the snow underfoot changed to clean, silver metal and heard the electronic swish of a door as it opened and admitted the two men.
Sergei was drifting off as he was lifted off the man's shoulders with notable ease and placed on a bed in the corner of a small room. The man looked solemnly back at Sergei as he walked away. Instantly there appeared an almost undetectable glass wall, thoroughly blocking Sergei from any hope of escape.
He attempted once again to lift his head, but instead roved his eyes from side to side to try and gain an accurate description of the place he was being held in.
An almost beige tone hung on the walls. Mixed with the shiny white and silver base, the walls were actually quite interesting to look at. Sergei regarded the black letters strewn across the top corner of the wall. They read: SIBERIAN SUBTERRANEAN JAILING AUTHORITY.
He didn't need the sign to tell him he was in Siberia, however. The freezing weather and profuse snow gave that away. But subterranean? Was he underground this whole time?
Suddenly his brain ached from all this thinking in his weakened state, and he decided to rest again. His eyes closed slowly, and his mind drifted off to the place where dreams are born.
But not all the eyes in the room had closed. Two more hung from the wall behind Sergei's head. Two gleaming red jewels.
These eyes never closed.