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My name is Nikita. Seven years ago I was taken off of Death Row and trained to be an assassin by a covert unit of the government called Division. Five years ago, my boss Percy sent me to Russia. Operation Pale Fire was supposed to take out the entire Udinov family, but I rebelled against my orders and saved thirteen year-old Alexandra. Almost four years ago, I escaped and I've been hunted ever since. I found Alex again and trained her to be my partner, to help her get her revenge against Division. We were joined in our fight by my best friend Birkhoff and my boyfriend Michael. Three days ago, I got caught. I don't know by whom, or where I am, but I have to find them again. I have to find Michael and Birkhoff and Alex...
You'd just sacrifice yourself for a dead woman, Michael? runs in her brain on an endless loop with You dumb son of a bitch and I was lost. I am lost. and There's evil inside me. She's run an endless loop around this island, clung to shadows and night, listened to whispers that there's no way off.
There was no way out of Division, either, but Nikita found one. She escaped and she'll escape this new prison too. If she has to search every inch, dig her way out with her fingernails - she has to kill Percy before she can mourn Michael.
Still not entirely convinced she's not trapped in an ibogaine dream, Nikita speaks as little as possible. She doesn't say her name. She doesn't say anything that could give Amanda or Percy a key to her people. Because she can't find the end, the exit, she goes back to the beginning. She arrived there, so maybe she can leave from there.
The jungle's almost quieter during the day, the wild things in retreat from the apex predators, from Nikita's enemies. At sunset, it begins to come alive again. There's birdsong from the trees, screeches and whistles, while she prowls toward the torture frame Jason still hasn't moved. She shudders as her fingers run the steel. The edges cut, but she only bleeds inside - it's her last tie to the world she knows. To Michael.
You'd just sacrifice yourself for a dead woman, Michael? runs in her brain on an endless loop with You dumb son of a bitch and I was lost. I am lost. and There's evil inside me. She's run an endless loop around this island, clung to shadows and night, listened to whispers that there's no way off.
There was no way out of Division, either, but Nikita found one. She escaped and she'll escape this new prison too. If she has to search every inch, dig her way out with her fingernails - she has to kill Percy before she can mourn Michael.
Still not entirely convinced she's not trapped in an ibogaine dream, Nikita speaks as little as possible. She doesn't say her name. She doesn't say anything that could give Amanda or Percy a key to her people. Because she can't find the end, the exit, she goes back to the beginning. She arrived there, so maybe she can leave from there.
The jungle's almost quieter during the day, the wild things in retreat from the apex predators, from Nikita's enemies. At sunset, it begins to come alive again. There's birdsong from the trees, screeches and whistles, while she prowls toward the torture frame Jason still hasn't moved. She shudders as her fingers run the steel. The edges cut, but she only bleeds inside - it's her last tie to the world she knows. To Michael.
