Alina

Roman

I don't know what to do.

Day after day, for the past two months, I've been locked away in my room. I sit a my computers, using all my knowledge to hack into Russian systems.
I've found things that I would've jumped for joy over in the past, now it's just another file to send to my father.
All I want to see is my sister's face.
All I want to see is my baby sister's name.

I heard the screams of my sister as those monsters ripped her from my mother's arms. I heard my mother face ten-plus men, completely defenseless.

And what did I do? Nothing.

I hid inside a cabinet for crying out loud! Why did I have to be so useless?
I know how to shoot a gun, I know how to fight. I could've done something, anything, to keep my family safe. But I was a coward.

I know my mother hid me for my safety, but I would've put myself in harm's way to prevent my sister from falling into the same hands that almost killed her the first time. I would've put myself in harm's way to protect those bastards from hurting my mom.

Mom and Dad weren't there that day. My parents only saw her after my brothers did what they could inside the truck.
But my brothers and I saw our little sister, bruised and bloody, left to die.
The snow around her was red.
Her lips were blue.
Her skin was a mix of purples and yellows from the countless remnants of the torture she endured.

Nothing will ever make that image go away.
Nothing will ever compare to what I saw that day, ever.

Currently, I'm at my computer, going over footage that the Russians sent my father. Though it kills me to watch it, I'll see it over and over again if it means finding anything that could lead to finding my sister, even if it gives me nightmares.

We've had our people analyze them countless times, but I don't trust them for jack shit. Only my family can bring her home.

In every clip, and every video, the lighting is always the same.

No windows. No natural light.

So she's underground?

No. It's too obvious. They know we'll analyze the fuck out of this, they know we'll think that.

She's above ground, yet all view of the outside is blocked.

I have to make a call.

This sounds familiar to a certain someone.

"Roman? Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine, Luca. I just need to contact Agent Liber, like now."

"Did you find something?"

"Maybe. I'll tell you everything later but I need to talk to her."

If this is what I think, we have big problems

"Oh. Well, she's right here right now. Just came back from recon and is, briefing me. Here she is."

Subtle.

"I'm here, sir. How may I help you?"

"Tell me about your experience with the Russians."

"Was her report not sufficient enough?"

"Get out Luca."

"It's fine, I'll talk."

"Can you go over the process of what they did to you and the other children there? In early development."

"This is not an interrogation, Athena. Talk as comfortably as you'd like. This won't be on record like last time." My brother assures her.

"Well, we were each confined to our own small room; nothing but a bed and a place to use the bathroom. They weren't cells, they had a locked door that you'd see in any normal bedroom. There wasn't a window or any way to tell the time. It was underground and always cold."