I was thrown into an extremely small room. The black bag was still wrapped around my head and so I couldn't see anything in the room. I cant even tell you how I got here. I was thrown roughly into the room, and I would have fallen onto the floor, if the wall wasn't so close. My hands slammed into the fall, in an attempt to break my fall but all it succeeded in doing was causing a painful throbbing to spread throughout my wrists.

A bag was ripped from around my head and I saw I was in a small room. My captors spoke to each other for a moment in what I could only imagine was Russian. Before slamming the heavy metal door closed. I was then left in the dark again.

I was visiting Lithuania on a spontaneous visit. I was supposed to be safe. My father, was a very influential FBI official and he had many ties to the CIA. No one knew that though. No one here anyway. So why was I in this position. The KGB, and I could only guess this was their doing, usually only went after people that posed a threat or had some type of valuable information. How could they have found out? She was here staying with friends she had met in Germany last summer. They wouldn't have informed on her would they?

Their family was politically active. Was it possible the KGB threatened them so they turned me in? They wouldn't do that…at least I don't think they would. They were the ones that taught me the horrors of the KGB and what they do to prisoners.

The soldiers came in the middle of the night and ripped me from my bed. The bag was placed over my head and I was dragged from the house and into a car. I heard, what I thought were Russian voices in the car. I did struggle. I kicked one in the stomach and punched a jaw while my hands were still free, but I was hit so hard over the head, by the time they got me into the car I couldn't do much of anything.

The cell I was in was cold and the floor was wet. It was barley large enough for me to sit down. My head was throbbing and I felt tears prickle at my eyes. Reaching up to my forehead I touched my sore head gingerly, wincing when the painful sensation ripped through my head. Blood was coated on my fingers when I pulled my hand away. The lights shining in through the hall gave me just enough light to see the dark red liquid on my hand.

I was shaking soon. The cold and the damp settled into my bones and I hugged my knees close to me. Tears came first. Fallowed by more tears, which eventually turned into sobs. Thoughts of the torture I would surely go through filled my thoughts and I wanted nothing more than to be home with my parents. My dad didn't want me to come. I should have listened to him. He told me it was to dangerous. He had inside information only known by those very trusted within United States government.

I think I fell asleep. I'm not quite sure. But the door opened soon and light shown into my tiny cell. I looked up at him, my head still pounding, and I could hear my heartbeat thudding in my ears. He walked towards me and grabbed me by the arm roughly dragging me to my feet. Another, or the same for all I know, bag was placed over my head and I was dragged out of my room.

The bag was finally removed when I was sitting down at a table in a ten by ten room. The Russian was wearing a pale brown uniform. He looked at me with a stern expression and placed a file he was holding onto the table. I looked at him, my eyes adjusting to the lights in the room and I didn't notice the syringe he had in his hand. I felt the needle sink into my arm and my eyes widened. The rush was amazing and then it left incredibly fast. The pounding ache in my head subsided abruptly. My mind was moving so slow I didn't even care when he handcuffed my hands to the table.

He left after that and I was left in the room alone for a few minutes. Was this when the torture would start? I didn't know, and at this moment I didn't really care. Every negative thought was out of my head. The door opened and a soldier walked in. An officer by the looks of his uniform. He smiled softly at her and sat down across from the table.

"Jane Bertini?" He said, a Russian accent noticeable. "Dmitry Gavrilovich. How are you feeling?" he asked his English flawless.

"I-" My head swayed and my vision blurred.

"I just wish to ask you a few questions and then you can go home. Ok?" He asked. His eyes were a soft brown that matched his hair and I couldn't help but find my Russian captor rather attractive.

"ok." I told him.

"Where are you from, Jane?" He asked as he flipped through the file on his desk.

"New York. But I spend a lot of time in Washington." I told him. Why did I tell him that? I shouldn't have. He was KGB. No more. I'd answer no more questions. I wouldn't tell this man anything.

"Age?"

"twenty one." I blurted out. What was wrong with me. What was in that syringe?

"Occupation?"

"Full time student." My forehead crinkled in confusion. Why did I tell him that. It wasn't anything important, but what happened to my better judgment. He wrote a few notes down on the file and then looked up.

"Good, You've been honest. We of course already knew all this. Now, the more important questions." He said and looked away from me for a moment to read the file.

"You will let me go home afterward?" I asked. He smiled at me, debating whether to lie or not. I somehow knew they weren't going to let me just leave, but another side of me at that time would believe anything this man told me.

"Of course. All you must do is answer these questions, and you will be released." He said.

"You promise?" I asked. He looked at me for a moment and then looked down at his file.

"So, you live with your father?" He asked.

"I-I shouldn't tell you anything." I said and twisted my hands around.

"All you need to do is tell me what I wish to know, and I will release you."

"No, I…I cant." I said, not willing to betray my father, even in this state. I pulled at my hands trying to pull my hands out of the hand cuffs.

"Let me help you with that." he said standing and reaching into his pocket. He wore a large wool over coat that had red trimming around the collar. He knelt down in front of me chair and unlocked my hands. "That's better isn't it." He said, his tone was soft, soothing and slow. I looked into my lap, afraid to look at him. I had heard the stories. He was nice now, but once I didn't something to get on by bad side, he'd be as ruthless as the rest of them

"Look at me, Jane." he said and touched my face. "Are you going to talk to me?" He asked and I shook my head. He sighed and stood. "I had wished to be gentle with you, Jane." he said and removed his coat placing it on the table.

"What are you going to do? Are you going to hurt me?" He leaned over me, and placed his hands on the arms of my chair, boxing me in. He looked at me for a moment, his face barley three inches from my face.

"No." he said and straightened up again. He called out in Russian and two guards walked into the small room. I wasn't scared when they picked me up and dragged me down the hall. I was pushed into a cell. A different cell that last because it was slightly larger, with a wooded plank for a bed. The door slammed behind me and I was left in the dark. The floor was hard cement.

I wandered over to the bed. Well, the large piece of wood that was coming out of the wall. I cant say how long I was in the room. I began shaking within an hour…or maybe it was only a few moments. Maybe it was a day. I don't even know, but it got very cold in that little cell. I heard screams coming from down the hall later into the night. By that time what ever the Russian had put into my system it was gone, and could think more clearly.

I didn't even if have a blanket. I think I was in the basement. The only light that made it into my cell were the lights from the hall. Bread and water was delivered to my cell once a day. It was barley enough to keep me going. When I got to hungry or thirsty, I would try to soak up some of the water from the floor with my sleeve, or just lick it straight of the floor. Desperation leads you to do some unattractive things. I spent my nights and days cold, and hungry and lonely. There was a small place in the corner of the room to go to the bathroom.

I got such bad stomach cramps, and muscle cramps from the lack of a sufficient amount of water. I was freezing, the cold sunk so deeply into my bones I didn't think I could ever be warm again. I wanted that man to come. Dmitry? Was that his name? I hope it was, I called his name out at night hoping he'd come back. I Wanted him to come back so bad. So I could tell him what I knew. They'd give me more food then. At least I hoped so. I would ask Dmitry if he came back. I'd tell him that I would tell him anything if he would give me a blanket, or more water, more bread.

I miss people too. I even wished the soldiers who brought me my food and water would stay just a little longer, just so I would have someone to talk too. My door opened all the way some day later. It was at least a few weeks, maybe months. I didn't know. I looked up from the floor where I was laying with squinting eyes. I was grabbed roughly by the arm and dragged me down a hall into a room. It looked like the same room from before when I was first interrogated. The Russian soldier left the room slammed the door closed behind him leaving me sitting at the table alone. I still shivered but the room was slightly warmer than my cell.

The room was plane. A table in the center, with two chairs opposite each other. My eyes adjusted to the light and I waited for someone to come in. I felt hope bud in my chest. Maybe now I'd get a blanket, or more food.

The door opened and a tall and a tall man walked in. He had on a long pale brown overcoat with red trimming and a officers hat on. I couldn't see his face, because he was holding a file in his hands and was reading it. He looked up once he shut the door gently behind him and smiled. My heart stopped when I saw him.

It was the one from before, Dmitry. "Ready to talk now?" He asked and sat down across from me. "I don't believe any drugs are necessary this time." He said and removed his hat placing it on the table. He looked at me for a moment and I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice came out soft and scratchy.

"If I do…will I get more food…and water?" I asked and he looked surprised for a moment but then his face went back to its kind, but neutral expression. "Maybe a blanket? I know you wont let me go."

"Of course Jane." He said.

"Then…then I am ready to talk." I said with a shaky voice. Anything to get more food, to be warm at night. He stood and brought his chair closer to me. So he was right next to me, and sat down.

"Your father. You live with him?" He asked and picked up a pen and the file.

"Yes sir." I told him and he wrote something down in the folder.

"You live in New York?"

"Yes, but My father had a house in Washington he stays at." I told him and he wrote in the file for a while before looking back up at me.

"His address?" I looked up at him when he asked that. Why did they want his address. They could possibly want go after him. They only wanted information right? I shook my head and my lower lip trembled. He sighed deeply. "Back to the cell then?" he said and went to stand. My heart leapt into my throat when I thought he was going to leave. I reach out and placed my hands on his legs and he stopped moving.

"NO!" I yelled. He starred down at my hands and raised an eyebrow.

"No?" He asked and I shook my head. "I can't help you until you help me." A tear squeezed out of my eyes and I looked down, not moving my hands away from his leg.

"13...state street. Albany New York." He wrote it down and then called out in Russian. A soldier walked in and picked up the file. They conversed for a few moments and the soldiers left. More tears slipped out of my eyes and I took my hands away and placed them in my lap.

"Now, now. No need for tears." Dmitry said and reached out to wipe away my tears. "You will be getting more food, more water. I will move you to another cell. A dry one. An give you some nice warm blankets. How's that sound?"

"Are you going to hurt my dad?" I cried out, suddenly regretting what I said. I would of taken it back if I could have. Food, water, and warmth wasn't worth giving my father up.

"No of course not." He said and shifted closer to me. His hand came up and brushed over my hair, and then grabbed onto my chin gently forcing me to look at him. He was probably in his mid to late thirties. He was very handsome, tall, maybe 6'2, 6'3.

He held my face in his hand for a moment and a fat tear rolled out of my eye. His hand slid down to my neck and pushed my prison gown over my shoulder. I looked up at him. What was he doing? He looked at my neck for a long time and then father down my body. His eyes settled back up to mine and he smiled. It was a soft smile, it wasn't unkind but it was the smile of a predator.

"Jane. Would you like to hear a proposition?"

A/N:I wrote this becuase I am reading a book with a former intellegence officer from the KGB in it and I fell inlove with him haha, and i am also suffering from slight writers block with ym other story. I know exactly what i wish to write, and it is all planned out i just cant put it into words (I have 3/4 of chapter three written) and have it sound halfway decent, so I sat down channled Dmirty Arkadeyevich Popov and wrote this lol(if anyone knows which character and what book he is from tell me, you'll get a cookie.) . I'll continue this story because i dont abandon stories once i start them, but Prize of the Warrior will be my top priority, unless this turns out more popular than the other.

Review please. btw i wrote this quickly and proof read very quickly, so please dont bite my head of for it. Thank you, much love :) enjoy