2070. Last digits of the code. No matter what they did, I was not going to tell them the rest of it. My undercover mercenary training would allow me to live for longer than the other hostages.

On the last day of the siege, everyone was dead but three of us. Now they wanted us to fight against ourselves to the death, only way we could be given life saving water. Jackson saved us the guilt, died at 10 am. Lewis, a meek accountant, killed himself. This wasn't the way the captors were expecting to spend their afternoon so decided to punish me by draining bottles of water in front of me then urinated over my body, still chained to the office wall.

I would die with the rest of the numbers firmly seared on my brain. This experimental laboratory could never be exposed to the rest of the world.