Road to War Part I: Terrible Lie

I'm On My Hands and Knees, I Want So Much to Believe

He knows that he's destroyed the machinery that they want to use on him.  The working models, the scientists who made it, most of the files on how to make it again.  So he knows he is in a bad place, in trouble, but he also knows that he likely has some time before they can turn him back into their weapon.  Still, he is drugged and confused.  People walk in and out of the room he is in, speaking in disturbed tones.  He cannot focus on what they are saying.  His fingers move when he commands them to, but he lacks the strength to lift his arms or move his legs enough to break the restraints.  So he holds still and waits.

Eventually, he becomes more coherent, but takes care not to make this obvious.  Fewer people are moving around the room now, and he wonders if he might have just imagined it before.  There are guards; he can hear the creak of their armor as they shift their weight out of his line of sight.  He waits until he is relatively certain that there are exactly four of them.  Then he throws himself at the straps holding him down and manages to flip the chair forward, landing on his feet.  He rips free of his restraints and flings the chair at the guards.  Two of them are struck, the other two open fire on him.

Unsurprisingly, his weapons cache was removed from him while he was under.  But he doesn't need it.  Blocking shots with his left arm, he charges at the guards.  In a matter of moments, they are all incapacitated.  One of them managed to stick a knife in his side, however, and he pulls on the knife tentatively before deciding to leave it there.  Until he can staunch the wound properly.  He gathers the weapons and ammo of the guards and listens carefully for anyone approaching to investigate the noise.  Nothing.  It sets him on edge.

Silently, he opens the door and checks out the hall.  No sign of movement.  He isn't sure where he is, which is concerning.  The underground facility is certainly large enough for him to be lost for hours.  And he doesn't have hours, not with a hole in his side.  Though he wants very much to get moving, he goes back inside the room and locks the door before addressing his wound.  He tears some cloth from one of the guard's trousers into long strips, which he fastens around himself as soon as he's gritted his teeth and pulled the knife out.  A hiss escapes him as he tightens the makeshift bandages, and he decides it will do for now.  Stitches would likely be better, but he doesn't think he can stand to wait in here that long, even if he could find a needle and thread.

Feeling a little better, he leaves the place at last and sets off down the hallway.  He can't tell which way he is going, but he also doesn't know where he is, so it's moot.  Just keep moving, he tells himself.  Eventually, he will find his way out, he is certain.  The base is under high alert and everyone he sees is armed.  He knows they will find the guards and then begin searching for him; it's only a matter of time.  Avoiding these agents even without them knowing their asset is escaping is a challenge.  He's lost a lot of blood and the effects of the drug haven't completely worn off.

He must continually backtrack as he finds himself in dead ends, and panic starts to set in.  The strain is starting to get to him, and he wonders if perhaps he should just find a hiding place and wait.  But he doesn't think they will stop looking any time soon, and he doesn't want to bleed out here.  Which is why he is almost relieved when he is spotted and cornered by a group of special agents by the looks of them.  He brings half of them down before they shoot him with a tranq gun.

This time, when he wakes, he's laying down.  Strapped down again, and he can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu.  He considers his options, but feels very tired.  Moving is difficult, so he lays still.  When he shifts his weight, he can feel something pull on his side.  A grim smile flickers across his face as he realizes they've already given him stitches.  They certainly intend to keep their asset in the best condition, he thinks bitterly.  Not that it will matter.  He'll die before he'll let them send him out again.  It's just helpful to be patched up before he tries to escape again.