Author's Note: Okay so I had more planned for Aleks' chapter than what I had posted at the time. I really want to be able to finish this story finally. Hopefully this chapter will help give a sense of the two sides of things happening simultaneously as Artyom and the Order are planning her hopeful rescue. I hope you enjoyed the character view switch because I think its really important to establish how Aleks feels inside. Artyom sees her as talented and infallible… but she's only human after all.

Disclaimer: The characters and story originally created by Dmitri Glukhovsky in the book and video game series "Metro: 2033" and its sequels do not belong to me. Those properties are owned by Glukhovsky and Deep Silver. This work of fiction is intended for entertainment purposes and is not meant to be canonical, though I tried very hard to make it fit within the parameters. I do retain my rights for the creation of my own original characters and ideas. I do not make any money from writing this story.

Trigger Warning: Although I've never tagged for warnings before, I feel I should include a note for some of the darker parts of the story. This chapter involves the use of harsh language and involves physical and psychological abuse, as well as implied sexual abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter 32: The Second Unit

All the light had gone and there was nothing left but dark, dull, red clouds. The room was both foggy and humid. The puffs of smoke, or steam, or was it a toxic gas? swirled and ebbed and flowed, letting in the crimson glow periodically so that Aleks could discern the basic layout of this new dungeon. It was a narrow rectangular space with not much in it; concrete walls and floor, two closed doors straight ahead, a small table with three mismatched chairs, and a network of pipes along the back wall. The wall she was chained to. The earlier haze of her distressing ordeal had mostly worn off, the sedatives cleared from her blood stream but the pain remained. She shifted her weight to her right hip to alleviate the tension building up inside her left knee, still unable to move it, but this time she noticed that it was completely wrapped up in strips of cloth and a roughly hewn wooden splint which kept the joint slightly bent and inflexible.

They had dressed her in something as well. 'Wasn't that nice of them?' she thought sarcastically but in reality she was thankful that they hadn't left her naked. A plain cotton-like tunic covered most of her body, long and hanging loose like a hospital gown or some of the scrubs that the medical men were wearing. Nobody had bothered to include undergarments, pants, or even socks. They didn't even put her combat boots back on her feet, and she'd waited for years to find a pair small enough for her to not trip over herself. 'I guess everything was contaminated,' she sighed in her mind. Even though it was unbearably hot and damp in this room, she was glad she was covered and could retain some decorum before, she assumed, Sturmann would arrive to ask her all about D6.

"Damn it. Must be at least six hours since…" she mumbled to herself, though as soon as she'd spoken the words, she realized she had no frame of reference. Six hours since, when? Six hours into now—what was now? Morning? Evening? Six hours since the end of the rigorous medical torment that had caused her to black out in the first place. And who even knew what things those grotesque non-doctors had done while she was lying comatose in that freezing cold yellow-tiled hell. They could have dissected her entire body without her knowledge, tore out her heart and soul and stolen away her clarity, her memory, her strength. It was entirely possible based on the way she was feeling now: nauseated, scrambled, exhausted. But those were also symptoms of radiation poisoning.

Nothing in that intensely luminous not-hospital could ease those kinds of symptoms. Headaches, vomiting, fatigue, and it only got worse after that. She had studied it all before with Hunter and knew what to expect. It could take weeks or months before the symptoms really showed the severity of the dose she had received after her mask had cracked open and all the dust from the collapsed building rained down. The non-doctors hadn't said how many millisieverts that dosimeter had told them she had bouncing around inside of her. She could be as good as dead, and she almost hoped that she would die from the exposure because maybe it would save her from further torture and inevitable execution by the Reich. But perhaps there was a chance that it wasn't so bad, and in this room a bit of bright light could be helpful. With a little more light she might be able to find a way out, figure out how to break these bindings, or at least see if she was alone.

"Hello?" Aleks ventured in a moderate but hollow tone.

Nothing.

"Anybody?" She dared in a louder voice.

Just an echo.

"Shit. Fucking hell." She grumbled to herself, rattling the combination of ropes, straps, and chains which kept her arms folded behind her back. Testing to see how much room she had to play with. With any luck, the Nazi interrogation goons used these pipes and chains often enough that there would be a weakness somewhere, right? All the near-twenty years of neglect meant rust and decay. She couldn't really move in any one direction so her only option was to lean to each side to see if she could pull any of the material loose from the wall. A sharp pain froze her motion suddenly and she hissed in a breath through her teeth. She had forgotten about her broken or bruised ribs, never having gotten an official diagnosis from the men in the infirmary. To the best of her ability and limited range of motion she shook the chains in any way she could to try and break them.

Her vain struggle and mild grunts soon alerted someone's attention, as a beam of white light began to peek under the door on the right. Footsteps drew nearer, and nearer, and then there was a moment of silence. The door creaked open slowly and cast a ray of flashlight upon her, making her seem small in the space. She couldn't see the faces of the people who entered, she just counted their steps until one of them stopped in front of her.

"Well, well, well, your time has finally run out… eh pet?" Obersturmführer Varnayev's voice sounded with a thick accent. Aleks' heart sank in her chest, she was surprised that she still had one. "Welcome home, любимец."

"Don't… call me that…" Aleks said, out of breath from her effort, squinting from his flashlight. "Where's Sturmann, hm? I won't talk to you."

"Youuu don't get to make demands anymore," Varnayev said with strange inflection, lowering the beam of light and twisting his head to the side as if trying to shake water out of his ear. "Untersturmführer Sturmann is held up in the southern quadrant with some… executioner's business, though I'm told he was very much looking forward to speaking with you himself."

The two other men who had entered the room chuckled lowly in their own way, Aleks noticed that they were each holding some form of weapons in their arms but couldn't tell what they were. If only she could grab one and… no, it wasn't possible.

"Fuck him and fuck you," Aleks spat in a low tone, not a fan of this new game that Varnayev was starting to play with his distorted words.

"Shall we contact Führer's office now that she's awake? He said to—" Spoke one of the subordinate soldiers, hesitantly stepping forward from the corner of the room.

"Not. Just. Yet." Varnayev interrupted and cut the air with his hand like a knife to emphasize the command. "We've only just begun the fun. Especially since we have all waited a very long time for this moment, and I am going to savor every second of your screaming before I go to claim my reward from your father."

"He's not my father!" Aleks declared angrily, shifting and jostling the chains again. It seemed that no one in the Fourth Reich had forgotten about her escape, as if she had left only a few days ago. They were just as upset now as they were back then. What had they been saying about her all this time? "You're just as brainwashed as he is."

"Don't! Speak ill! Of the Führer!" Varnayev roared, clenching his fists and unintentionally angling the flashlight upwards, highlighting his sharp face and brimmed officer's cap.

"Well maybe he shouldn't get drunk and talk in his sleep, then. I might not have found out his secrets, or about his real daughter." Aleks still had the strength to tease, whether it was a good idea to antagonize him further or not wasn't her main concern at the moment. Presenting a strong personality was the name of this game.

"Silence! That is not up for discussion, today." He straightened his uniform jacket and seemed to recollect himself, suddenly switching to a calmer tone as if starting all over again. "In any case, he is quite eager to have you back in the family. He's been planning to make an example out of you for some time, now."

"An example?" Aleks said with hesitation, not wanting to come up with her own conclusions.

"Oh yes, because your mother, the model wife of the Reich, has a black spot on her image. Can you guess what it is?" Varnayev cocked his head to the other side and smiled playfully.

"Don't talk about my mother!" As much disdain as Aleks had for her mother's activities and relationships since the end of the world, she did her best to defend her. For a moment her mind wandered, contemplating where her mother might be right now, if she knew that her daughter had been captured, or if she even missed her at all.

"Oh, don't pretend that you care about her now, Sashenka. It was all he could do to keep her quiet after you escaped. She wouldn't shut up about you for weeks! I suppose Führer himself never wanted you for a daughter, but well, here you are with this bounty on your head." Varnayev pulled forward a metal folding chair, set it facing himself and then straddled it directly in front of her. He set the flashlight down on the floor beside him, facing the ceiling and creating a misty ambiance around him.

"Bounty? So, he wants me erased like all the others who try to expose the truth." Aleks huffed and looked down, dejected but not surprised.

"The reward is the same, despite your choices." Varnayev shrugged his shoulders and feigned a yawn.

"Choices?" Aleks looked back up at him curiously.

"I'm suuure you can figure out what they are, you crafty little guttersnipe." He looked down his large, pointed nose at her.

Aleks remained silent, waiting for him to explain, although the options had been obvious all along.

"Nooo? Well I'll just go ahead and—" Varnayev slapped his hands against the chair and growled his next words loudly, "Spell it out for you."

She had only flinched a little bit at the loudness of his action, but he took it as a sign of fear and seemed to drink it in.

"You either return to play your part to the letter – what is it… T?" He glanced back at the two men behind him, one of which nodded to confirm. "Yes, play your part to a T… or else you will stand trial for capital murder."

Aleks' eyes went wide; she had tried to erase her memory about the man she had killed while trying to escape Reich with Andrei. He was just doing his rounds, guarding the perimeter corridors - it was his job. Hunter had advised her to forgive herself, at least in that kind of circumstance he told her, 'To defend yourself is justified.' But before she could even finish that recollection her mind skipped on to the others. Two on the surface, though not directly; it was more of an accident and more Hunter's fault anyway. One who rushed the barricade at Novokuznetskaya trying to flee after committing a robbery in Venice – he didn't die from the bullet but from the infection it caused later on. Andrei had been on duty with her and he had fired first but it was Aleks' shot that connected. And finally, Boris the Nazi-sympathizing doorman at Mayakovskaya station, which had only happened a matter of hours ago. That one was definitely her fault and nobody else's. Maybe Artyom was right that Hunter had taught her a little too well. Only just beginning to realize how much she had compartmentalized it all, rationalized it away and wrote it off, tears began to prick at her eyes. Was her life worth its weight in the lives of others? What had she really done with it that made it so valuable? She looked back up at Varnayev who was cackling again, and she knew that he didn't know about these other people, but the weight of the trial he proposed now seemed heavier, at least in her own heart and mind.

"Wellll? What will it be then?" Varnayev's amber colored eyes were wild, a fire roaring inside his pupils. Aleks thought she could see every possible scenario in his mind. Multitudes of torture methods and death practiced on countless others who had been chained up in this room before her. Carefully honed skills which he had been consistently improving, all in preparation for her arrival.

"What if… I don't choose?" Aleks dared, trying to delay the inevitable. Carefully leaning sideways to shift her weight again she tried not to react to the pain, but which was more uncomfortable? The hard ground under her modest derriere, the clenching twinges from the nerves in her knee, the sharp reminders that she couldn't breathe too deeply, or the unyielding restraints around her arms?

"Oh I can certainly help you decide, if that is what you wish, my dear Aleksandrya."

He left his perch and kicked the chair aside, taking some measured steps across the room towards the soldiers who flanked the door. He took a bundle of some kind from one of them, clinking metal instruments wrapped in canvas, and turned to display them on the table. He drew a thin knife-like object from the package and turned towards her again. Crouching down close, he bore down into her very soul. Now his words were coming out in a clear and steady stream of malicious intent but his clarity was more terrifying than the threat.

"You have information that the Führer desires. The Rangers took you in as one of their own, and as such you must have seen the D6 with your very eyes. Don't even try to deny it because I can see it inside of you." Aleks had tried to look away but he caught her face with his free hand and turned it harshly back to him. "You will give us this information willingly. Immediately. Accurately. Or, you will spend the rest of your painfully short life in gripping, wailing agony while I extract every last atom of hope from your body. Your choices, dear Aleksandrya. Alive or dead, I shall be extolled! The Führer does not care which you decide."

Aleks couldn't really process what she was hearing right away, though she knew what it all meant, somehow she couldn't picture it anymore. Blank darkness filled the space in her mind where the hours of physical torture were to take place. However, she could envision the end: the sweet silence of the world fading away, slowly losing her last breath, relaxing every muscle because nothing mattered anymore. Andrei Ivanovich had made his choice. Avtozavod was in the capable hands of Nikolai and Dmitri. So, what would be on the other side? If Hunter really had died up there, then at least she could see him again soon. But wait, what about Artyom? What about Colonel Melnik, Ulman, Anya and Katya? What about the Order and D6? If she was destined to die here, the least she could do for them is die in silence.

"So, what do you say? Are you going to play nice?" Varnayev dragged the back of the blade across her cheek to bring her attention back to him.

"I will spend my dying breath deposing that vile bastard." She said forcefully with a look just as powerful.

Varnayev was overcome with joyous laughter for a short moment before he stood up and quickly composed himself again. He gave a short bow in her direction.

"Your wish, is my command."

As he turned around to address his subordinates, Aleks tried again to wrestle the chains loose, making no effort to hide her attempt this time.

"You know the protocol, do not enter unless I call for you," Varnayev waved the two men off with his hand. The soldiers nodded and obliged instantly, walking out of the room one at a time. The man in the rear turned back to push the door closed, staring at Aleks almost with sympathy before the opening was sealed with a bang and a clicking lock.

'Wait, don't leave me alone in here with him,' she thought to herself, even knowing that there was nothing anyone could do to intervene. Her heart began to race, the game was changing, and she didn't know the new set of rules, let alone how to win.

"I have to say, your friend Herr Sturmann is efficient though he can be rather brutish. He is too cold and formal, rushing through what are meant to be the best parts. His information was beginning to become unreliable and that is why he was reassigned and I was promoted." Varnayev reached up and pulled down a contraption from the ceiling, clicking a switch brought power to a bright yellow light which he adjusted to her position. It drowned out the flashlight and the red fog like the sun blots out the stars during the daytime.

"And I continued to evade him for three whole years. I even had some of your spies working for me." She looked away from the intense spotlight, the clouds seemed to be stirring again, and she couldn't make out anything in the rest of the space. Just like in the infirmary, another forcefield.

"If he had been the one to catch you, perhaps this would be over more quickly. But I believe that this is fate. I have studied you. I committed to memory every detail of your development and your treachery. Ever since your mother was chosen, I kept my eye on you because I knew you had a rebellious streak, a wildfire spirit. Before your violent escape you were untouchable, but now that I have you here, we will be going on our own little journey. A train ride if you will. Where I am the engineer and you are the vehicle; mind you there is only one track, one way forward, and no way back."

Varnayev shuffled around, tinkered with the metal objects on the table, moved the chairs, and then came back into the light with no hat and began rolling up the sleeves of his officer's trench coat. His dark high and tight haircut obscured the light source like an eclipse and Aleks was thankful for the shadow but could also begin to feel the intense energy coming from his glaring eyes.

"I know that you will try to remain strong. You have no intention of telling me what I desire to know. I want you to understand that I greatly respect that strength of yours, indeed." He crouched down close to her again, perhaps to reinforce his sincerity or so she could better hear the gentle tone he had used.

Aleks was confused by the compliment, if it really was one. Maybe this was just the next step in the game: false hope. Was he trying to confuse her with his seemingly multiple personalities?

"But through our adventure together, I am going to make you want to tell me. You'll want to tell me so badly that it will come flowing out of you like blood," Varnayev scraped the thin blade across her exposed thigh, "from a wound."

Aleks tried hard to not give a reaction, she clenched her teeth and held her breath to stop any sound from coming out.

Varnayev lifted his index finger from his grip on the offending instrument and swiped it through the expanding crimson line that split her ivory skin. He studied her blood in the light for a moment before placing it on his tongue; seeming to savor the taste, he closed his eyes. Aleks recognized this opportunity immediately and tucked her head into her chest and pushed her folded arms against the wall, crashing into him and knocking him off balance. The ache in her side was worth it. He quickly righted himself with an irritated grunt, having dropped the knife but swinging his arm with full extension and backhanding her across the mouth.

"That wasn't very nice," he grinned, expressing the opposite emotion of what he was saying.

"You're… disgusting," Aleks said with a hint of a moan, blood now oozing from her bottom lip.

"Am I now?" Varnayev seemed more amused than ever, dragging his fingers under his nose and examining his own blood this time. "At least I'm not a cold-blooded murderer."

"It'd be nice...if you didn't...lie to me...if you expect me to be... truthful." Aleks breathed the words out between short gasps as she was also recovering from the event.

Varnayev had no spoken reply, lowering one knee so that he had the position and leverage to push his forearm across her chest and pin her against the wall.

"Agh, сука," Aleks hissed as her head hit the back wall with force.

He seized her slender neck with his bloody hands, leaning in and watching her expression change as she squirmed and struggled. Aleks gasped for breath unsuccessfully, looking fearfully into his determined amber eyes. She straightened out her functioning leg and attempted to displace him but couldn't get enough of an angle to do any damage. Closing her eyes, she began to accept this fate. Visions of the city above, undamaged and gleaming, filled her mind. Unexpectedly, he loosened his grip and exhaled, allowing her a brief moment of relief before yanking her towards him. He touched his lips to her forehead gently before slamming her back against the concrete and metal. She released a tormented moan unwillingly and her eyes rolled back as she completely blacked out.

It had all been an act, a charade, living a hopeful lie trying to be everything Hunter thought she was. The strength and tenacity were never really there, she had just amplified her own wild dreams and projected what he wanted to see so she would no longer be insignificant. Or even if it had been real, it had all faded away along with the charismatic Ranger in the midst of his mission. Was that the deal she had signed her name upon? The idea of Quantum Entanglement, at its simplest, meant that whatever happened to one entity happened to the other as well. So, if Hunter had vanished, or died, or was no longer himself, then so was she; everything virtuous and compelling had abandoned her spirit the minute he stepped out of the Metro and into the Botanical Gardens. Whatever torture he might have endured up there because of the Dark Ones was now happening down here as well, and she had her own Dark Ones to contend with, wretched mortals in black uniforms. She hadn't even shown her best self to Artyom or Colonel Melnik because she'd been slowly dying inside the whole time, decaying little by little and making more and more mistakes. If only they could have seen her as she should have been, resolute and proficient by Hunter's side. If only she had done as he desired.

The dream ended and it wasn't very long before Aleks began to come back to reality, only stirring due to the sensation of movement. The tension in her shoulders slackened as her hands were untied, and it felt like a weight was being lifted from her lower body as the nerves tingled back to life. Her legs were stretching out beneath her but her arms were being drawn up above her head. The light was shining at her again, but it seemed much closer and lower. She could only deduce that the merciless intelligence officer had taken the opportunity in her oblivion to reposition her, but at the moment she couldn't find a trace of him.

It was almost silent in the room except for whatever was humming inside the pipes, water maybe? Or pressurized steam which obviously had a leak somewhere in this room. Aleks tried extending her uninjured leg out, hoping to come into contact with something to steady herself but also hoping not to find her persecutor. Reaching took great effort as it increased the pressure inside her throbbing head and tightened the muscles around the broken ribs. She tried moving her arms instead but they were almost completely holding her weight, she could wiggle her fingers freely but ended up gripping the ropes for support. The floor was just within reach of her bare feet, enough so that her shoulders didn't immediately come out of their sockets and preemptively run down the time that could be spent antagonizing her.

She couldn't turn her head very far but she scanned around as best she could for any trace of the savage malefactor that had suspiciously disappeared. She wished so badly that she hadn't been wounded before coming here, even though that was the only way they had been able to capture her in the first place. Varnayev wouldn't stand as much of a chance against her if she was at her best. Between the injuries from the surface, the radiation damage, and the so-called infirmary she could only vaguely estimate that she was at a quarter strength or less. Each new blow and cut inflicted drained her further still. She took in a few breaths and let them out slowly, trying to calm her racing thoughts and palpable pulse.

"God, please," she prayed quietly to no deity in particular.

"Are you looking for me?" Sounded his grating comical voice from the left.

"Ughch," She groaned with revulsion at the idea. Was he trying to call himself a God?

"I'm sorry if it's uncomfortable my dear, but it just wasn't going to work with you down on the floor. I'm not getting any younger you know; my knees aren't as good as they once were. But I suppose now you know what that feels like." Another pitiless chuckle, then the swish of liquid as if he was drinking something, but she couldn't see anything in the direction his utterance emanated from.

"What, are you… not used to… people fighting back?" Aleks ignored his attempt to undermine her confidence and brought out some sarcasm despite her dry mouth trying to impede the words.

"Let's just say that I expected exactly this kind of reaction from you." Aleks heard the shuffling of cloth and his heavy-soled boots which took several resonant steps until he was right behind her, breathing his next whispering proclamation on her neck. "This is everything I could have ever dreamed."

"Does it make you feel… like more of a man to abuse a… defenseless woman? To see… her blood on your hands? Let me… out of these chains and… I'll show you that wildfire spirit." She returned to her threatening tone, hoping it would make him retreat from her vicinity.

"If you're so concerned about my masculinity," Varnayev said lowly, sliding one hand up her thigh and wrapping his other arm around her waist, "I can give you reassurance."

Aleks clenched every muscle and shrunk her limbs inwards as best she could, trembling and trying to writhe away from his touch before he reached her most intimate places but there was no barrier under her gown to stop him. She tried to tune out the sensation at all costs, feeling as if she had shriveled up and retreated into a central core, her soul? No, the soul had long gone and now she was an invisible witness from deep inside the outer shell. No one was at the control panel of her body and she naïvely tried not to exist as time ground itself to a halt.

She was paralyzed in abject terror while his endeavors stretched onwards without her. Scalding tears streamed silently down her face and she guiltily tried to think of better encounters with someone else. Everything blended together and drudged up memories long since buried. Tverskaya – Darwin station, her mother setting the example, the black uniforms of the fascists, trying to push them away, and all the way back to the beginning. The very first time. 'Tolya, no, it hurts,' she whispered in her mind as she envisioned him; unkempt black hair, tan skin, and rich brown eyes set deep into his chiseled face. She had survived this before, and even after the worst of experiences she had been able to move forward again and live her life. And she couldn't forget about Hunter either, though it was always more her idea than his. He wasn't harsh like Tolya, in fact he had surprised her in the way that she would never guess from his formidable appearance or inimical attitude that he could be so gentle with her in those moments. His rough but warm hands tenderly caressing her… but it wasn't him. 'No! Stop!' She screamed internally, 'Remember where you are!' There was no control even over her own mind as it tried desperately to escape and crawl away to somewhere else, anywhere else.

"I wondered where you went first, to the Red Line certainly, from that escape route, but you must not have been there for long. They would do even worse things to you than I for information."

Varnayev broke what Aleks assumed had been silence and she was jarred back into the timeline but still had no autonomy. The steamy air swirled around her face as her panicking chest heaved for oxygen of its own accord.

"I presume you blended in with the other criminals near Serpukhov or Venice? Too easy."

He squeezed her broken leg above the splint but Aleks could barely feel it. A few steps, the liquid sloshed again, he came back.

"They wouldn't let you into Polis or Hansa without documents. You must have had more help than just Petrikov; that oaf isn't smart enough to play the kind of political games you are trying to partake in."

Whatever he had been drinking was poured over her head, flowing down the long strands of knotted hair on both sides and saturating the fabric of her tunic. Varnayev gathered a large handful of her damp auburn tangles and gradually pulled back until she could almost see the top of his head in the light. He let go again and she could hear him crouch down near the floor as he spoke again.

"What I don't understand is why the old Colonel would have given you a place in his elite ranks. As far as I remember, your only real skill is sewing and your only talent is your defiant and sharp tongue. Did you tell him where you came from? Does he know about your crimes?"

A cracking sound accompanied a stinging spread of impacts across her back.

"Answer me, you insolent bitch." Varnayev growled, winding up the weapon again. "Where is the entrance to D6?"

Aleks could only squeak with her voice, even if she had wanted to answer him she couldn't now. Every aspect of her was broken, body, mind, and soul. No more quarter strength, she was completely degraded, depleted, destroyed. She curled forward, heaving violently as if to purge her stomach but nothing came out. Only her tears managed to keep flowing, though her eyes remained closed, and she repeated half-finished prayers to herself in her head as the whip was unleashed to the same rhythm.

"That's enough, Obersturmführer!" Boomed a new voice from in front of her.

"What the fuck? I told you not to—" Varnayev yelled from behind but then cut himself short.

"Führer wants to see his daughter. He'll have your head if she can't even respond to him!" The other man commanded. "Put her in a cell and you can have more fun with her later."

Varnayev let out a long, annoyed groan before confirming his understanding. He gave Aleks one last solid smack with the squeaking leather straps before walking around to the other side of her. The light finally switched off and everything was black. Metal rattled as the contraption holding her up was released suddenly. She crumpled to the floor in an awkward heap and didn't even try to move a muscle.

"Lev, Kirill, get in here and give me a hand!" Varnayev snapped his fingers and his voice faded out as he exited the enclosure. "Fucking knock next time."

The footsteps of the four men all blended together until they marched in cadence and consumed her psyche, lulling her into a hypnotic and weary torpor. It was over, for now, and Varnayev was gone but next she would have to deal with the man in charge of everything. The Führer himself.