The Survivor of the 27

Chapter twenty eight

I'm currently on my way to Russia. I've had a lot more 'doctor' visits recently. Everyday at exactly 2:33 p.m. They pump that red liquid into my body. I can feel myself starting to slip and lose my way. When he asks me something, I do it without hesitation. Not only that, but I'm starting to like the way I feel when it enters my veins, which scares the shit out of me.

There's five more weeks until Addison's wedding. I know that I've let her down and failed my family. Yet they're alive, meaning my plan didn't fail me.

Once the helicopter lands on top of the building we step out to a snowy scene. It's a big concert building, surrounded by snow and pine trees. The place is hidden by mountains.

As Hassan and I step out of the helicopter, we are welcomed by Chairmen Morozov.

"Welcome General Hassan," Morozov greats. He's tall. About 6'4 and you can tell that he's strong. He has broad shoulders and legs like a horse. He's about 315 pounds. He has graying hair, but can't be any older than forty five. He has dark green eyes, and the sharpest jawline I have ever seen. You could probably slice paper with it.

"Thank you for agreeing to this," Hassan says and shakes Morozov's hand.

"I will have her for seven weeks. I will send her on a mission and then she will be deployed back to you," the Russian explains.
I stand there awkwardly. Waiting for my next orders.

"Now, Khor Khoreh, how many languages do you know?" Morozov asks.

"Thirteen," I respond.

"You know Russian?" He asks.

"Yes sir," I respond.

"Good. I will have my soldiers escort you to your sleeping corners. We'll see how long you can last with my men," Morozov says.
Two soldiers come up behind me and grab my arms, pulling me into the building, and away from the snowy scene. It takes a lot out of me not to fight back. Considering it is my natural instinct.

Morozov's men were built differently from Hassan. These men were strong and had the tightest grip. Even if I tried to get away, it would never happen. I don't know how to explain it, but Russians are just built different. Strong, stronger will, somehow they just know how to fight. I will say though, I could beat these men in a drinking competition.

I've now been here for seven weeks and three days. Four more days till Addison's wedding day, and I'm not gonna be there. At least I didn't have to wear that blue dress. As pretty as it was, I didn't like that back.

Everyday is training, fighting, training, my food in a drippy bag, and then training again. I'm lucky if I can even get two hours of sleep before it starts all over again. It really was the toughest training I've ever been in.

I've lost weight and have become more nimble. My jawline is sharp and my eyes look sunken in. Or maybe it's just the way the mirrors and lighting is. Although I've lost weight, I've put on more muscle than I've ever had. I was stronger and more lethal.

Today, I have a meeting about where my mission is going to be. I have a feeling it will be somewhere in Asia. I heard a couple of soldiers talking about something in Asia, but who knows.

I'm currently heading to the conference room. I was granted control over where I roam. I knew that there were cameras everywhere, so they always knew where I was. The walls were concrete and again, no windows.

I get to Morozov's office and head into the office. It's a room just like the other ones. Books, computers, ten chairs and ten candles at each chair. The rooms were always either red or green and darkly light. I spot Morozov standing by the bookshelf to the left with a drink in hand.

"Oh Khor, I didn't hear you come in. Please have a seat," he commands.

I take the seat at the end of the table. I make sure that my back is straight and that I don't slouch.

"I have a mission for you," he says in Russian. "You will be deployed over in Texas," he adds.

He throws a folder in front of me. I take it and open it. In it, is a picture of a man. He has dirty blond hair and brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek, most likely from a knife.

"His name is Jackson Gray. Although we are against America at the moment he has double crossed us and the president of the United States. He has no reason to be alive anymore," Morozov explains.

I nod my head. He worked with President Biden and from the looks of it he was close to him.

"You will depart in two days. On the third day you will set up camp and on the forth you will eliminate the target. Once he is killed, you will head back to Iran. Any questions?"

I shake my head no in response. I haven't talked at all since I've been here. You were never to talk back, only respond with a nod.

"Good, you may leave," he finishes.

I head to my cell and look over the file. I read it over and over again. Trying to gain any information that I can. I needed this mission to be a success.

The next two days are filled with intense training and shooting. I was finally let outside to practice target shooting.

And today is the day that I leave. I'm in the boarding room, standing in front of the plane. I was helping to load the things into the plane. As I'm standing there, I'm waiting for my orders.

Morozov walks over to me, straight as a needle. "Are you ready Khor?"

I nod in response. I made sure to keep my talking limited. To be honest, I don't think I've actually said anything in like five weeks.

"Good. You will be in Houston. There is a parade in the city and that is where you will kill him. Gray will be in a black convertible. You are to kill him and then take back the money that he had stolen. Go and make the Chair proud."

I nod, salute and walk away and into the plane. "Oh, one last thing Khor." I turn around to face Morozov. "Get rid of the rag and use this instead. There is face paint that you will use to cover your eyes."

In his hand is a mask. Only covering the nose and down. It looks to be a hard mask. I walk over to him and take it from him.

"If talking is necessary, turn the button on the side to the left. It will distort your voice and make you unrecognizable," Morozov explains.
I take off my shemagh and replace it with a more simple mask. It was light weight but tight. Perfectly fighting to my jaw.

We're about an hour away from America and about an hour and thirty-eight from Texas. I decide to get up and go to the bathroom. Using the mirror, I braid my hair back into a fishtail braid. While I was in Russia, they had dyed my hair black. The braid was full. It started at the top of my head and came down a little past my mid back.

Once my hair is done, I grab out the black face paint from my back and smear it all over my eyes. Once I'm done, I head back over to my seat and strap in. We were going to be landing soon. I was going home.