Maria is a weapon. She has the strength of ten soldiers.
Luitenant Logan has always taken care of her, and she's fought countless battles by his side.
But when he suddenly disappears during a battle, Maria finds herself without the one person she's...
I couldn't figure out anything more of the code, which disappointed me. Howalk seemed troubled at knowing my name was a part of it, but I couldn't tell why.
I watched him as he continued to go through the transmission, entering assumed translations into another program.
He continued to type, adding words to the translation. He would occasionally listen back over the entire recording, then change a word. Nearly an hour passed of him trying to decode the remaining words from the section containing my name.
Secure the Victory Project. Maria located. Three days.
"What is the Victory Project?" I asked.
"It's the main purpose of whatever organization has been sending these transmissions."
"What is its purpose?"
"The Victory Project was started at least two decades ago, and they've been trying ever since to perfect whatever they're doing out there."
"You don't know what it is?"
Howalk shook his head. "You can bet it's nothing good. And if you have something to do with it, that's even worse."
I thought hard for a moment. None of this made any sense to me. How could I be connected to an organization in Russia?
"You don't know anything about it?" He asked.
"No," I said.
Howalk's brow became heavy. He remained so unfazed but I could see he was processing all the information.
I found it fascinating how I could never properly read him. He was so placid and without emotion, but at the same time so expressive. He made no sense to me.
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distant past...
"еще раз."
I pulled. The chain hurt my shoulder. I pushed my momentum against it, grinding my teeth at the effort. I faltered. Clank! The huge weights hanging from the mechanism behind me dropped back onto the ground.
"еще раз!"
I cried out as I pushed my shoulder into the chain again. This time, I kept firm footing, taking a step as the chain lifted the weight behind me. My hands burned from grasping the steel so hard.
"Быстрее!"
Another step. I screamed, lunging my weight against the chain with all my might.
"Быстрее!"
I moved forward more steadily, seething with effort.
The white line painted against the cold cement floor was three feet ahead of me.
The command was yelled again and again. "Faster! Faster!" But I hardly heard it.
Finally, my left foot breached the white line and I collapsed, allowing the weight behind me to drop to the floor.
