Mark was walking down the street, as he did every morning on the way to work. The street was filled with many buzzing shoppers looking around for items to take home to their loved ones. Unfortunately, Mark wasn't lucky enough to have time to shop for items or to have a loved one, as his job was one that took many hours of his life. However, despite this, Mark enjoyed his job. It paid well, meaning he could buy the latest technology and the items he dreamed of and involved one of his favourite things – designing cars which would be produced.

However, as Mark was walking down the busy high street, he felt a slight tingle in the back of his neck. He felt someone watching him. Mark turned around and searched for anyone who was looking at him. To Mark's dismay, he found no-one, so he put it down to paranoia and continued walking onwards. Several minutes later, further down the high street, Mark had the tingling feeling in the back of his neck again. He casually sat down and pretended to pull out his laptop from his bag. While he was doing this, he carefully scanned the area and found a man of medium build and height, smoking a plump cigar while watching him carefully. Mark pretended to fumble, got up and walked off. Mark made several sharp turns down dark, eerie alleyways and came out at a secluded road surrounded by houses. Mark decided to slow down and take his time, since he was still early for work. However, when he reached the end of the road, he saw the man again, smoking and watching him. He decided to walk up to him.

"Why are you watching me?" Mark yelled at him.
"Because my friend, we need you." The man replied with a deep Russian accent.
Mark stood there, trying to find some sort of emotion in the man's eyes. He found none.
"Wait, we? What for?" Mark enquired.
"Come with me and you will find out." Replied a man who had walked up to Mark from behind, also in a gruff Russian accent.

Mark was forced to follow the men down the road into a small car park near the end of the road. Mark was carried into the elevator. Once they reached the 4th floor, Mark was pulled out. There was a small black van which contained two more men. Both had Russian accents. Mark was forced into the back of the van and the doors were slammed shut moments after he sat down. He could feel the van moving at high speeds downwards in the pitch black environment.
Several hours had passed during his journey, according to his watch. During this, he had heard his phone ring several times, which he presumed to be his boss. The calls went unanswered. Another phone had rung, answered by, mark presumed, the driver. Mark did not know Russian, but he knew common words like Da and Спасибо.
Mark tried to listen in to the conversation, hoping to pick out certain words, but the driver shut the small hatch that allowed Mark to look and hear outside. The van stopped. Mark covered his eyes from the light when the rear doors opened and the two Russians pulled him outside.
Mark looked around and realised he was at an airport. An abandoned airport. By the look of the boarded up windows and the crumbling building work, it had looked abandoned for some time. The Russians walked over to a small office. Mark followed, more intrigued than scared.

The office was lightly dimmed. At the end of the room, a desk sat with a balding man stroking a cat. Mark thought that he looked like the stereotypical bad guy from Bond movies; however, these thoughts were shattered when the man spoke with a posh English accent.

"Ah, Mr Mark… am I correct?" asked the man.
"Uh… Yes. And you are?" replied Mark.
"I am simply known as… Comrade A. These men respect me. They only follow my orders. They are the perfect killing machines… however, they do trouble in the do-not-kill order. You were lucky today, my friend." The man said slowly.

Comrade A told Mark of his plans and told Mark why he was needed. The Englishman wanted Mark to design a vehicle to help the Englishman. The Englishman told Mark they had been watching him for some time and were overwhelmed by his marvellous design skills.
"You have the plans… we have the power." The Englishman told Mark. Mark leaned forward and placed his head in his hands. Mark couldn't believe what was happening – he would have to go through it, or these people would kill me, he thought to himself. Mark looked up and decided to ask how much he would be paid – the Englishman replied with "your life."
Mark couldn't decline. He would have to go through with this. Mark told the Englishman that he would agree to work for him, as long as his work would be used. That was all that mattered to him.

Mark was bundled into the van again and driven home. Night had fallen by the time Mark reached where he lived – a secluded area – and Mark was tired.
When he was pulled out of the van, the two Russians told him: "We will call when we need you. Don't try run, we will find you." Mark nodded. Mark turned and walked down the path to his door.
After unlocking his door and placing his bag onto the table, Mark slammed the door shut and sat down on the sofa next to the table. Mark closed his eyes and took several minutes to realise what had just happened. He had been kidnapped by Russian hitmen, bundled into a van, taken to meet a man who intended to use him, then taken home and expected to wait for this man to call him. Mark got up, walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of vodka. He downed the entire glass and then decided to lie down and forget the whole day. Mark lay there, staring into the ceiling. He couldn't get the thoughts out of his head. Mark fetched several more bottles of vodka to help him sleep. After a few minutes of constant drinking, Mark fell asleep in the darkness of the empty room.