Commander Petrovich, as always, has no idea what he is doing.

It would have seemed logical for him to enlist our division's doctor, the only person here who has been thoroughly trained in medicine. Instead, the commander is the one holding the needle, attaching a lengthy tube to the end before inserting it into the hand of the young Superior girl. She doesn't flinch or react in any way, and I vaguely remember hearing whispers that she cannot feel any form of pain.

If that is the case with her, it is no surprise that the commander is so desperate to gain her ability.

"Would you like her sedated, Commander?" I hate asking this question, but I feel as though I must. The commander is used to my loyalty, and although I am waiting for a chance to foil this plan of his, he must believe that I am still trustworthy.

"Of course not." he looks to me abruptly, rolling his eyes as though this should have been obvious, "I do not want that sedative in her blood when I draw it, you imbecile. She is not presenting a problem, so she will stay awake."

It is my turn to roll my eyes, making sure the commander is looking away when I do so.

He will find out one day who the real imbecile is.

"What did you say your name is, girl?" the commander's voice is a snarl when he asks her the question, interrogating her while simultaneously continuing his torture, "It seems you will be here a while, so you might as well tell me."

She looks up at the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge his words as she closes her eyes. She seems pale, the prominent dark circles under her eyes giving her a haunted look. She and the Orlov boy must nearly be the same age, though he has hardly spoken of her or the others since we took them in.

The commander's hand moves swiftly, his palm colliding with her cheek as I open my mouth. Even in these times, I would like to think I have some respect for common courtesy. I would never lay a hand on a woman, let alone a girl, unless she posed a threat to me.

There is no use chastising the commander, though. He has never cared about such things as respect and honor.

"I asked you a question, no?" his voice is annoyingly loud in the makeshift lab, his eyes meeting mine as though I am expected to provide backup.

"You would be wise to answer it." I snap, hoping there is enough feigned anger in my voice.

The commander gives me a slight nod of approval, and I give him a smile in return.

The Superior opens her eyes, turning to look at me rather than Petrovich.

"Fine. What does it matter?" her voice lacks any notable emotion, and she seems a few moments away from giving up on it all, "Lilian. My name is Lilian."

"And your companions? What are their names?"

"I'm not going to tell you that. If you want to know, you'll have to ask Dimitri." her retort takes the commander aback. Given how willing she was to surrender her own name, he must have been expecting her to expose the identities of her friends as well.

Even if she's given up hope, she's still loyal.

I applaud her for that.

The commander is angry, I can see it in the set of his jaw. He raises his hand again, but before he can make contact with Lilian's cheek, she speaks.

"You can do that as many times as you want. I don't care. You can't hurt me; even if you kill me I won't feel a thing."

So it is true, she is the one who cannot feel pain. That seems as though it would be both an asset and a curse.

I sigh, gazing off into the distance as Petrovich finishes with his first tube and moves on, replacing it with an empty one as though he drains people's blood on a daily basis.

"What are you sighing at, soldier?" his voice is sharp as his gaze cuts to me, a scowl planting itself on his face.

"Nothing, Commander. I am tired, that is all."

He studies me, brows coming together as he contemplates my lie.

"No." he says at last, "You feel sorry for her, for all of them, don't you? You do not want them harmed, just as you don't want the Orlov boy to suffer."

Lilian is looking at me, an apathetic expression pasted onto her face. I wonder if she can see that I truly feel sorry for her, that I am guilty as accused.

"Why would I feel sorry for them?" I demand, giving the commander what I hope is an incredulous look, "They are unimportant to me."

He snorts.

"Do not lie to me, soldier. It is written across your face. You feel for these pathetic children, though being a soldier you should not care at all for them. You have watched people suffer, Ivanov. They are no different."

"You honestly feel no remorse for this?" The words seem to escape me before I can catch them, prevent them from coming forth. The commander's eyes narrow, his gaze momentarily dropping to measure the amount of blood filling the tube. He returns his attention to me, lip pulled back in a sneer.

This time, when he speaks, he shouts at me in Russian. This is clearly not the place for me, he snarls, and I can serve a greater purpose going outside to relieve the watchman at the gate. It is a mundane task, one that normally requires little effort.

I don't look back at Lilian or the commander as I move for the door, stepping out into the corridor and making my way down the stairs. I exit the building, standing in front of the structure for a moment as I take in the scene before me.

The high chain-link fence which surrounds our temporary living quarters gives the place an eerie feeling, as though even the free ones are being held captive in a way. Our assorted vehicles have been parked in the grass inside the perimeter of the fence, lying in wait for their next mission. Across the expansive yard stands a tall iron gate, and I can make out the shapes of three soldiers standing guard around it.

One of them notices me straight away, bidding me a good afternoon as I jog toward him. The other two ignore my presence, continuing to speak to each other as though I am not there at all. I return the first soldier's greeting, exchanging places with him as he smiles at me.

For a brief moment, I contemplate leaving, somehow escaping our compound and warning someone in the city of what the commander is doing to these innocent children. My gun rests in it's usual position, strapped at my waist, and there is a chance that I could incapacitate my fellow soldiers before one of them could run for reinforcements.

But the townspeople have their own concerns. Everyone is trying to survive another day, and none of them have the time or energy to do anything about this. Most of these soldiers, too, could not care less about Petrovich's plans, as long as his agenda doesn't threaten their lives.

I cannot do anything right now; it would be too risky to kill the commander outright, or to start a revolution against his ways.

I have to wait for the right time to take action.

~*~

It is nearly an hour later when I first notice the car. It is driving along the roadway in front of our compound, on a course through the outskirts of Manchester as it takes the path toward the city. I expect the mundane gray vehicle to move on its way, as other cars have done over the past few days, but this one stops abruptly. It remains in the lane, positioned nearly parallel to our gate as one of the soldiers next to me raises his gun.

My two companions begin to argue quietly, one dying to shoot at the obvious threat while the other asserts that the vehicle may not be a menace at all.

I roll my eyes, bracing myself to give an order to suit the situation. Before I have to make a decision, the gray car starts off again, continuing harmlessly on its way.

I sigh, vaguely wondering where the vehicle's final destination is. As my companions continue to drone on in an endless conversation, I let my mind wander. Has the commander finished with the girl? Has he killed her on accident? On purpose?

I gaze up at the sky, noting how the earlier sunshine has been overtaken by clouds. Is this some sort of sign? Are things about to deteriorate, or have I allowed my imagination to stray too far from its designated path?

I am still lost in my thoughts when the gunshot snaps me back to reality. Four children are marching along the street in single file, the smallest of the group wearing a hefty regulation city patrol pack. The girl looks to be no older than seven or eight, the two children trailing behind her cannot be much older themselves. The one in the lead is around my height, and looks as though she could easily be twice the age of the smallest child.

The more muscular of my companions has his gun pointed into the air, firing a second warning shot into the heavens as the oldest girl deviates from the roadway.

In an instant I recognize them. They were a part of Orlov's old group, and I distinctly remember hearing whispers that they were killed on the night we stormed the hotel.

It appears we have been proven wrong.

The smallest of the children overtakes her leader as my fellow soldiers begin shouting.

"One step closer," one of them warns, "and I will shoot you."

The little girl smiles, tucking a strand of light-blonde hair behind her ear. She raises both hands, spreading her fingers in a way that allows me to see that there are only four fingers on her right hand. She continues to smile, remaining stationary between the road and our gate. She looks as though she knows something, some bit of information that we are oblivious to.

In the next instant, I am on the ground. What felt like a gust of wind has sent me flying backward, throwing me a meter or so in the opposite direction from the girl and her companions. Turning my head, I notice that both of my fellow officers are on the ground, looking dazed.

The four children make a run for the gate as one soldier attempts to gain his feet. The small blonde girl sends him back to the ground in the blink of an eye.

A smile spreads across my face as it occurs to me that this is the chance I have been waiting for. If I can get these children into our building, the five of us may have a chance at freeing Lilian and the others.

In this moment, I make the decision to become a traitor.

I push myself up on an elbow, looking to the children who have just reached the gate.

I reach for my gun, and the small girl moves to flatten me to the ground. She has both hands positioned before her once again by the time I open my mouth.

"Don't." I order, my tone authoritative, "I am on your side."

She looks over her shoulder, gazing up at the oldest member of her group. The teenager meets my gaze, studying me as though I am a science project that requires analysis.

"Rosalie, he's telling the truth."

I allow myself a brief moment to contemplate her ability before turning my attention to my fellow guards. One of them is struggling to his feet, and I quickly stand up. In a matter of seconds, I have my gun trained on him, and he is staring at me with a horrified expression. I pull the trigger once, aiming for the head and knowing before he crumples to the ground that I hit my mark dead on. The second soldier meets a similar end, following in the footsteps of the first a few seconds later.

I walk to the gate, pulling it open with that same smile still frozen on my face.

"Follow me." I instruct, and the five of us begin the seemingly-endless walk to the entrance of the building.