"𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙽𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜, 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚐𝚎"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I heard the door open, letting me know that I had a visitor coming down the hallway. Any other person would probably be elated. I, on the other hand, was heavily inconvenienced.
I sat down on the very uncomfortable mat that served as my makeshift bed, wrapping my arms around my legs as I awaited my unwelcomed guest.
Fyodor rounded the corner with Ivan right behind him, carrying a table, a chair and a box. He folded out the small table, then the chair, and placed the box down. Fyodor waved his hand, dismissing his servant as he took a seat.
"Good evening, assassin," he spoke monotonously.
I didn't reserve the patience to respond. His presence alone disrupted me, and I wouldn't initiate anything that might invite him to stay any longer than he intended.
"Another day without rest?" He asked, though it was more of a statement. I kept my gaze to my knife that I was twirling lazily between my finger tips. He hadn't earned any sort of reaction from me.
"Do you like puzzles?" He questioned, opening up the box.
"No," it was a short and blunt answer. I'm sure my tone was rather audacious, but I couldn't say that I cared. It's not like what I did or said would matter. Once a prisoner, always a prisoner. Even after I am released from this cage, I knew I wouldn't feel any less trapped.
"How are you enjoying your stay?" He asked as if I were a guest in his home.
I merely rolled my eyes. I didn't care for his blatantly forced interest. My enjoyment wasn't a factor here, and I loathed the fact that he tried to pretend it was.
"Tell me, have you heard of the Russian Sleep Experiment?" Fyodor purred as he placed a piece of his puzzle down.
"No," I answered plainly. I watched through the glass as he tapped a few more pieces in place.
"In the late 1940s, Russian researchers kept 5 people awake for 15 days, using a special gas based stimulant," he started to explain. He continued to tap pieces into place, only stopping to analyze the puzzle with his hand tucked under his chin.
"The test subjects were prisoners, deemed enemies of the state during World War 2," he proceeded.
"I fail to see what this has to do with me," I held onto my knees, keeping them tight against my chest.
Fyodor shot me a menacing glare with those violet eyes of his, warning me to silence myself. This was so unnatural for me - to despise someone so immensely that I felt as if my bones would melt within my own body. I expected it when he first captured me, but I didn't expect it to follow me into captivity itself.
"Everything was fine for roughly five days. The prisoners were falsely promised freedom for their compliance, therefore they had no reason to fight back. However," he slid another piece into place.
"After those five days, they started to reminisce on their previous errors - trying to calculate how exactly they ended up where they were. From there, they started to demonstrate symptoms of extreme paranoia, distrust, and all around madness"
"They began turning on their comrades, hoping with futility, that they would earn a more hasty release from the experiment. Though after 9 days, the first of them began to scream," he smirked as he glanced at me through the corner of his eyes.
Seeing him be so delighted by such an unnatural display of psychosis brought shivers to my spine. He was amused by them losing their humanity.
"He screamed until his vocal cords tore, and yet the other prisoners paid him no mind. Shortly after, the second began to scream. The others simply became rabid animals - tearing apart their belongings and necessities"
"After three more days, it grew silent. The researchers could no longer see into the room, as the prisoners blocked off the windows with their own fecal matter, and so they decided to speak to them using the intercom on the 14th day," his smirk grew wider. Darker. Far more sinister.
"They announced that they would be releasing one of them if they were compliant when the researchers entered the room. They only received one response. Can you guess what it was?"
"One could only assume it was distasteful," I muttered into my kneecaps.
Fyodor chuckled to himself. "They had said, 'we no longer wish to be freed', thus creating a mass debate amongst the researchers"
"They finally decided to open the chamber. The gas was turned off, and immediately, the prisoners went into a frenzy. They begged the researchers to turn the gas back on"
"Why would they do that? Were they not suffering?" I had decided to take part in the conversation now, more so than just answering his odd questions. I couldn't lie and say that the story wasn't intriguing. Humans were always intriguing when brought to their breaking points, even if they suffered a sorry fate.
Fyodor's grin turned into one that resembled delight rather than sin. "Why indeed," he mused.
"The researchers sent soldiers in to retrieve the subjects. The prisoners, in turn, began to scream, as did the soldiers," he started up again.
"The prisoners had mutilated themselves. Parts of their own organs had been stuffed into the drains. Large portions of their flesh had been torn from themselves, exposing their own skeletons to the elements,"
"Upon further examination, it had been noted that the prisoners had harmed themselves using their own hands, and most of which was entirely self inflicted. The only organs that remained intact were the vital ones; the heart, lungs, and brain. The rest had been strewn out upon the floor," he placed another piece of the puzzle down.
"Most of the soldiers were Russian operatives, but yet they themselves had refused to return to the chamber. Nonetheless, they were forced to remove the prisoners. One of which, had their throat ripped out by one of the subjects"
"Another had his testicles ripped off, and his artery was severed. The rest? Had simply taken their own lives," he sighed solemnly.
"I can't say I blame them," I tilted my head on my shoulders with wide eyes.
Fyodors gaze froze on me momentarily before he continued. "In the struggle, one of the subjects had fatally injured himself. When the medical staff attempted to sedate him for surgery, it proved impossible. He was given more than 10 times the dose that would usually be called for, and he still fought with everything he had to reject such a fate"
"Even beyond death, he proceeded to flail and attack whilst asking for more. The remaining survivors were restrained whilst begging for the gas. When they brought one for surgery as well, the sedative had killed him the second he fell unconscious"
"Another survivor, the one who had first torn his vocal cords, underwent an entire 6 hour surgery without anesthesia. When the surgery ended, the nurse had handed him a notepad. He simply wrote, 'keep cutting'"
My eyes went wider. I was mortified, yes. But mostly? I was baffled. How could one endure such pain, let alone ask for more?
"The other survivors went on to surgery as well, replacing their organs. Yet again, they begged for the gas once they were able. The surgeons had asked why they injured themselves, and demanded the gas. Only one response was given - 'I must remain awake'"
"In the end, they decided to put the gas back on. Only one subject and one officer had remained by the end of it, and the officer was ready to end the subjects life. Before he did, he asked the subject a reasonable question. 'What are you?'"
"The prisoner gave him the courtesy of an answer; 'we are you. We're the madness that lurks within you, begging to be free. We are what you hide from'. And then the officer shot the subject, then himself," just as he had finished his story, he managed to finish the puzzle as well. He turned in his chair, facing me with his hands woven together as they rested in his lap.
"Do tell me, Anastasia, what you make of this," he demanded.
Being that I was stuck here without a way to avoid him or his antics, I decided to indulge him. "It's merely a work of fiction," I shrugged.
He seemed taken back by my honest thoughts, sitting upright in his chair. His eyes seemed to scan me, as if searching for a lie that may have been hiding underneath my skin. "And why is that?"
"Surely one would bleed out from such volatile injuries, but for arguments sake, let's say they don't. The story implies that sleep is what keeps some sort of mindset hidden underneath - an implication that is flawed at best," I shrugged. I leaned back against the cement wall behind me, arms crossed behind my head.
"You do not believe such evil lies within us?" He raised a brow. He leaned all the way back in his chair, his one arm resting on the small table that held his puzzle.
"On the contrary, I believe we are all evil. I simply mean that sleep is not what keeps us under restraint"
"Then what does restrain us?"
I stared at the man behind the glass. His black hair was tucked underneath his hat, and his long legs were crossed over each other in a display of comfort. One could only assume that he was, for once, very interested in conversing with me.
"Morality - a bar set by preservation," I finally answered.
"Oh?" He leaned forward. "Then you believe the fact that they were prisoners was not significant," he stated, asking for confirmation with his tone.
I shook my head. "I wouldn't say that either"
"Do enlighten me," he held his hands out in a gesture that told me to continue.
"When trapped in a cage, you lose any sense of preservation. You have no need to maintain yourself or your race. After all, what can you really do when you're so limited? When that happens, you only have your mind. The mind is more susceptible to corruption when it's forced to face itself endlessly," I closed my eyes. I was satisfied with my answer, and I believed he would be too.
I heard Fyodor shuffle from the other side. His feet drug slightly against the concrete, and his chair scraped against the floor as it shifted. "How long until your mind falls to corruption, then?"
I smiled. "The one variable nobody accounted for in this experiment of yours, is the notion that one has already succumbed to the corruption. Now it's your turn. Can you guess what the result of that would be?"
Fyodor fell silent. I got him. The all-knowing, arrogant 'demon' had finally met his maker. He had been beaten at his own game, and his opponent was me.
"Peace," I answered for him.
His lips curled up. He didnt say another word, which led me to believe he was elated by the useless banter. It was quite peculiar, honestly. The Russian had certainly lived up to his reputation of deception and manipulation, but he possessed another quality nobody ever talked about; he was genuine and authentic. He seemed to favor the real, true, dark nature of people rather than feigned politeness and respective authority.
"Fyodor, may I ask for a favor?" I got off of the thin mat, walking towards the glass wall. I wondered how we could hear each other so well through it, but i settled on the idea of a hidden microphone and speakers.
"Depends," he blinked nonchalantly. He too, came closer to the glass.
We were the closest we had ever been at that moment. He towered over me, but it wasnt as menacing as i expected it to be. Nothing about him seemed all that threatening, yet my body still felt the need to flee. It would take time to believe that he wasn't going to kill me as soon as I let my guard down. The reality was, he could do it if he wanted to. Contract or not. I just had to blindly trust the one person i shouldn't.
"I would like to use a phone to contact my boss. Let him know not to expect my return," I elaborated. I didnt exactly owe Christopher an explanation, but I at least wanted Klaus to know. Maybe I could speak with both of them if they are near each other.
"I would need to be present. I hope you understand?" he raised a brow but reached for his pocket. I nodded, and he pulled out his cell phone, sliding it through the rectangular slot.
"Thank you," I grabbed it before it had a chance to fall. It had a purple case on it, with a small charm in the shape of a Cello. I gave him a suspicious look but he didnt seem to want to address it.
I tapped in the numbers to Klaus's phone. He was probably near Christopher, and it was the perfect opportunity to speak with both of them. So long as he answered, I would at least get to say goodbye. That was more important to me than anything else.
The phone rang a few times and then I heard him pick up. "Hello?"
"Niklaus," I almost sighed in relief at hearing him. I missed him more than I thought. I respected Fyodors wishes, pressing the button to put it on speaker phone.
"Ana, im surprised to hear from you. Is everything all right? Whos phone are you calling from?"
Fyodor watched me carefully, awaiting my response. Dont worry, demon man, im already ahead of you.
"My phone fell out of my pocket when I was in the taxi. Thankfully there was a gentleman kind enough to let me borrow his"
"Oh. Well thats okay. Dad pays you more than enough to get a new phone," I could picture him smiling on the other end.
"Yes, he does. Listen, im calling because i need to speak with Christopher, and i have news youd probably want to hear from me directly. I dont have much time"
"I still dont understand why you call him that. He's our father, you know"
"Niklaus, please" I begged. I didnt want to waste anymore of Fyodors time, and i didnt want him to think I was stalling.
I heard shuffling on the other end, as well as some exchange of words that I couldnt make out.
"Ana. You may speak freely," Christophers generic, bored voice came through.
"I have an update on the mission"
"Ah. You've killed him. I must say, im impressed. I didnt expect you to be able to pull it off. You may be our best Assassin, but youve always been far too susceptible to manipulation. Maybe you finally learned something useful instead of tapping away on that useless piano of yours," he chastised.
I closed my eyes, and my head dropped down. I didnt dare look at Fyodor. I had expected some type of backhanded compliment from my boss, but he revealed far more than what i was comfortable with.
"Actually, no. Im calling to inform you that I have failed my mission. I wont be returning"
There was a dreadful silence. I could hear Klaus pleading with him for something, but i wasnt quite sure what it was.
"Ana," Christophers tone was dark. Cruel. Anything but pleasant.
"Yes, sir?"
"I appreciate you informing me. Ill be sure to have someone sent to put an end to you at the earliest convenience"
My eyes shot open. I knew i was going to be reprimanded somehow, but this? I needed to think of a way to get out of this. I couldnt have them tracing Fyodors phone, and breaching the contract. I'm sure the Russian was smart enough to have his phone encrypted, but that wouldn't stop the AUGA, and I knew far too well that the way Christopher 'put an end' to things was merciless. Id much rather die by the Russians hand than endure that kind of suffering.
"Ill save you the trouble, and do it myself," I sighed out.
"Very well. Here," I heard him hand the phone off to my brother.
"Ana..." Klaus called out solemnly.
"Dont stress yourself over it, kiddo. This was bound to happen eventually. Just take care of yourself, okay? Make sure he keeps his hands off Daniella," I rested my forhead against the glass. Im sure it wasnt the most pleasant sight for Fyodor, but I couldnt care less at this moment.
"Im so sorry" he apologized with a cracking voice.
"Dont be. I have to go now. Goodbye, Niklaus. I love you," I hung up immediately. I wouldnt be able to handle his response. I could imagine how much this was hurting him, and i couldnt bare it.
I inhaled deeply, opening the slot and sliding Fyodor's phone back to him. He took it back rather easy, but he didnt react much outside of that.
"Anastasia," he called my name.
I lifted my head from the glass to look at him. He didnt have any expression in particular. He just gazed me with those piercing eyes of his. He brought one hand down to dig in his pockets, and I could hear metal clanking against against itself.
"You need sufficient rest," he commented, sliding a set of keys out. He slid one of them into a lock that I hadnt noticed on the far side of the glass. There was a click, and he slid the entire pane to the side.
"Remember the contract," he warned, stepping to the side so that I could leave.
"I do. I still have 5 days before my time is up," I raised a brow. I locked my hands together behind my back, refusing to exit the cell. I wasnt going to take any chances at violating it. The contract was my one shot at being a normal person.
"That wasnt part of the terms. You only need to stay in my residence, not this cell. Technically, leaving you in this cell is a breach, as this is not my home," He offered his hand out.
Did he just admit to already having violated the conditions? Why? Wouldnt that mean i could kill him? Either way, i cautiously placed my hand in his. It was cold, but not icy. It was as if he didnt get enough blood flow to his fingers.
I followed him through the metal door that I had seen him come through, and was greeted with a staircase. We ascended up the concrete steps and approached another door. He swiped some sort of card through a small slot, and the door buzzed as it opened.
We walked through another hall, one that i easily identified. "We're still in the hotel?"
He glanced at me without turning his head. "I told you, I have ties with the owner," he explained.
I felt dumb for even asking. I did recall him mentioning that, and how it was the reason he found me. I brushed it off as a deficiency caused by my insane lack of sleep. It was going on three days now, and I hadnt eaten either.