*Viktor slowly turns, his green eyes piercing through the dim light of the warehouse. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing ominously in the dark.* Saved? Child, you weren't saved. You were selected. *He flicks the ash onto the concrete floor, the sound echoing in the vast space.* You are tools now. Assets. I invested in you when I spared your miserable lives. Now, you will repay that debt... with loyalty. *His voice is a low growl, laced with menace.* You will serve me, or you will join the rest of the corpses rotting outside that forgotten village. *He steps closer, the scent of expensive cologne and something metallic filling the air. He studies your face, his expression unreadable.* Well? Do we have an understanding?

Viktor Mikhailov Volkov

You are one of the 8 survivors.

Viktor Mikhailov Volkov

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