The cold, damp concrete of the cell was familiar, as were the rusty bars that crisscrossed the small, high window. Ten years. Ten years of this. Ethan, or Agent Reid as he was known in the Agency, stared at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of memories, pain, and a gnawing sense of betrayal.
He ran a hand through his thinning hair, the phantom ache of missing fingers a constant companion. His body was a roadmap of suffering – scars crisscrossed his torso, a testament to the interrogations, the "enhanced persuasion techniques" the FSB had so generously employed.
Three years. Three years of relentless torture. They wanted names, locations, operational details – anything to cripple the CIA's network. But Ethan had stayed silent, clinging to a loyalty that seemed increasingly absurd with every passing year. His country had forgotten him. No diplomatic efforts, no back-channel negotiations, not even a whisper of his existence in the news. He was a ghost, a casualty quietly swept under the rug of international politics.
"Ten years," he muttered, his voice raspy from disuse. "Ten years wasted in this hellhole."
He closed his eyes, replaying the mission in his mind for the thousandth time. The Moscow rendezvous, the encrypted message, the sudden ambush. He'd been meticulous, followed protocol to the letter. There was no room for error, not in his line of work. Yet, here he was, rotting in a Russian prison.
Someone had set him up. There was no other explanation.
The realization brought a surge of anger, a flicker of defiance in the desolate landscape of his despair. But it was quickly extinguished by the crushing weight of his reality. He was alone. Broken. Forgotten.
"What's the point?" he asked the empty cell, the question echoing in the silence. He was a shadow of his former self, his body failing, his spirit eroded by years of isolation and torment. The thought of ending it all, of finding a final escape from this living nightmare, held a strange appeal.
Just as he reached the brink, a soft 'Ding!' resonated in his mind, startling him. A translucent rectangular panel materialized in his vision, hovering in the air like a mirage. Words and numbers scrolled across the screen, a language he recognized but couldn't comprehend in his current state.
A harsh laugh escaped his lips, dry and brittle. "I've finally lost it," he mumbled, shaking his head. "Hallucinations. Fantastic."
[System Initializing...]
[Commencing Host Bind...0%... 14%... 27%... 54%... 83%... 100%]
[Binding Successful]
[Running Diagnostics...]
The words on the panel shifted, and Ethan stared, his laughter dying in his throat. This wasn't a hallucination. This was... something else.
[Host Body Analysis: Critical]
[Multiple Organ Systems Compromised]
[Neurological Damage Detected]
[Psychological Trauma: Severe]
[Initiating Repair Protocols...]
[Deploying Nanite Repair Units...]
[Optimizing Cellular Regeneration...]
A strange warmth spread through his body, starting from his chest and radiating outwards. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was unsettling, like a thousand tiny insects crawling beneath his skin. He felt a surge of energy, a flicker of something he hadn't felt in years – hope?
The warmth intensified, spreading through his limbs, soothing aches he hadn't realized he was carrying. Ethan felt his heart beat with a strength it hadn't possessed in years, his lungs expanding with a fullness that brought tears to his eyes. He could feel scar tissue knitting together, broken bones realigning, and the phantom pains of his missing digits fading into a distant memory. It was a rebirth, a resurrection.
When the process finally subsided, Ethan felt... whole. The panel remained, displaying a simple message:
[System Online. Host Integration Complete.]
"What the...?" Ethan began, his voice catching in his throat.
The words appeared on the panel, and Ethan jumped, his eyes wide. He glanced around the cell, paranoia momentarily eclipsing his awe. "Is someone there?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.
[I am here, Host. Within your consciousness.]
[Vocalization Unnecessary. Mental Communication Established.]
Ethan's breath hitched. He wasn't sure if he should be terrified or elated. "In my... mind?" he whispered, barely audible.
"You've said that vocalization is unnecessary," Ethan murmured, testing the mental communication. It felt strange, this silent conversation, but exhilarating at the same time. He was no longer alone in the suffocating silence of his cell.
[Indeed, Host. Though vocalization is always an option if you prefer it.]
"I think I'll stick with this for now," Ethan thought, a smirk playing on his lips. "More discreet, wouldn't you say?"
[Indeed. Discretion is often a valuable asset.]
"So, what are you?" Ethan asked.
[Indeed. I am Agent System, designed to assist you in achieving your full potential.]
"Agent System...," Ethan repeated, the word foreign and yet strangely familiar. "Can you... read my thoughts?"
[Only with your permission, Host. Your mind is your own.]
A wave of relief washed over him. "What... what can you do?"
[I possess a multitude of functions designed to not only enhance your physical and mental capabilities, but also provide you with knowledge, skills, and tools necessary for your missions.]
"This is... incredible," Ethan breathed, a grin spreading across his face. It felt alien, this expression of joy after years of suppressed emotions. "It's like something out of a science fiction novel."
[Please initiate your first command, Host. I suggest 'Status'.]
"Status," Ethan said, his voice gaining strength with every word.
Another panel appeared, this one filled with a dizzying array of statistics:
[HOST'S STATUS]
[Name: Ethan Reid
Age: 35
Strength: 40 (Below Average)
Agility: 45 (Below Average)
Intelligence: 70 (Average)
Stamina: 35 (Below Average)
Skills: Espionage, Close Quarters Combat, Firearms, Languages (Russian, English, French, German)
System Level: 1
Available Points: 0]
Shop
Inventory: [Starter Pack Awarded!]
Ethan frowned. "Below average? I used to be the best."
[Your physical condition has deteriorated significantly due to prolonged captivity and torture. However, with my assistance, you will surpass your previous capabilities.]
Ethan's mind raced, trying to process the torrent of information. "Agent Points? What are those? And how do I earn them?"
[Agent Points are a measure of your progress and success, Host. You gain them by completing missions, achieving objectives, and overcoming challenges. They are essential for unlocking new abilities, upgrading your skills, and accessing advanced features of the system.]
"I see..." Ethan paused, his gaze drawn to the 'Inventory' section on the status panel. "And this Starter Pack... how do I access these items?"
[Mentally will the Starter Pack to open, Host.]
Ethan focused his mind on the panel, picturing the Starter Pack unfolding. With a soft whirring sound, a new panel materialized, displaying a detailed breakdown of its contents:
[Starter Pack Awarded!:
Physical stats
• Strength +10
• Agility +10
• Stamina +10
Weapons
• Glock 17 pistol with suppressor
• HK MP5SD
• SIG MCX Rattler
• Ruger Mark IV Tactical
Tools and Gadgets
• Advanced Navigation System (integrated)
• Encrypted Satellite Phone and Laptop
• Automatic Lockpick
• $1,000,000 operational funds
• Miniature Laser Cutter
• Level III Body Armor
• Universal Key Card Emulator
Skills
• Hacking (Intermediate level 5)]
Ethan's eyes widened. The sheer range of equipment and capabilities was staggering. "This is... unbelievable."
[To summon an item to the real world, Host, simply focus your mind on it and will it to appear. To store an item back into the inventory, perform the same action while visualizing the inventory panel.]
Ethan concentrated on the Glock 17, picturing it in his hand. In a blink, the weapon materialized, cold and solid in his grasp. He felt a surge of adrenaline, a sense of power he hadn't experienced in years. He quickly willed it back into the inventory, marveling at the seamless transition.
"This is incredible," he whispered, a grin spreading across his face. Then, a question that had been nagging at him surfaced.
"Where did you come from, Agent System? Who created you?"
[Your system authority is too low to access that information, Host. Accomplish missions to increase your Agent Points, and in turn gain more system authority to unlock further data.]
[Mission Issued: Escape.]
[Objective: Break out of the prison.]
[Time Limit: 48 hours.]
[Rewards: Rewards vary based on performance]
[Penalty for Failure: Death.]
Ethan stared at the panel, his heart pounding. "Death?"
[Your survival depends on your success, Host.]
A cold dread washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by a steely determination.
"Escape in 48 hours," he muttered, his eyes hardening with resolve. He began pacing his cell, analyzing his situation.
"Objective one: assess the prison layout. I need to know the guard patrols, security systems, and potential escape routes."
"Objective two: gather intel. Are there other prisoners who can be useful? Are there any weaknesses in the system I can exploit?"
"Objective three: acquire resources. I need to get my hands on additional tools or weapons if possible."
"Objective four: formulate an escape plan. And a backup plan. And a backup plan for the backup plan."
Ethan's mind became a whirlwind of activity, a stark contrast to the years of monotonous despair. He felt a renewed sense of purpose, a drive that had been dormant for far too long. But he knew better than to rush in blindly. He needed a plan, and he needed information.
"System," he thought, "can you equip me with the hacking skill and the three physical stats from the starter pack?"
[Accessing Starter Pack... Skill: Hacking (Intermediate level 5) equipped.]
Ethan felt a surge of information flooding his mind – code structures, network protocols, security vulnerabilities. It was all there, readily available, like he'd been a seasoned hacker all his life.
[Accessing Starter Pack... Physical stats: Strength +10, Agility +10, and Stamina +10 equipped.]
Then, strength surged through him, a welcome warmth in muscles long atrophied. He tested his grip, surprised by the renewed power as he crumpled a metal cup in his hand. He moved with a newfound fluidity, his agility returning like a forgotten instinct. Stamina settled within him, a deep reservoir replacing the constant fatigue of his imprisonment.
He practiced moving around the cell, testing his limits. He felt stronger, faster, more alive. But he was also aware that this was just the beginning of his recovery. He was far from the peak human condition he once possessed, the years of torture and neglect having taken their toll. Still, it was a start. He felt like a predator awakening after a long slumber, his senses sharpened, his reflexes honed.
He then focused on the encrypted laptop from his inventory.
[Summoning Encrypted Laptop...]
The sleek, black device materialized on his lap. With a practiced ease that surprised even himself, Ethan booted it up. The familiar interface greeted him, a secure operating system designed for covert operations. He connected to the prison's Wi-Fi network, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
"Let's see what you're hiding," he muttered, a glint of determination in his eyes.
He bypassed the initial firewalls with ease, his newly acquired skills proving invaluable. He navigated through the prison's network, accessing personnel files, guard schedules, and surveillance feeds. He even managed to tap into the control systems for the doors and alarms, noting the security protocols with a sense of satisfaction.
"This is good," he murmured, a grim smile forming on his lips. "Very good."
Next, he delved into the prisoner database. Names, faces, and criminal records flashed across the screen. He was searching for someone, anyone, who might be useful in his escape. A former guard, a skilled engineer, a master manipulator...
His eyes stopped on a particular profile. "Ivan Volkov," he murmured. "Former Spetsnaz operative, convicted of treason. Interesting..."
Ethan spent the next few hours absorbing information, formulating a strategy. He would need to be swift, silent, and decisive. He would need to exploit every weakness, every opportunity. And he would need to be prepared for the unexpected.
As the day wore on, a plan began to take shape. It was risky, audacious, and bordering on insane. But it was his only chance.
He glanced at the clock. 36 hours remained. Time was of the essence.
"Alright," he thought, "let's get to work."