Moscow, 1979

Two USSR soldiers march down a dark corridor. Between them is a boy, no older than ten. The boy looks at the soldiers and with terrified curiosity but he does not run. At the end of the hallway, they enter a darkened room filled with equipment: an examination chair, operation table, and in the middle of the room is a salene tank filled with a purple liquid. The soldiers force the boy into a chair and quickly restrain him with leather straps before a scientist in a labcoat enters the room and takes a look at him.

"You are Zebediah Killgrave, yes?," the scientist asks in Croatian.

"Yes," the boy answers nervously, also in Croatian.

"Can you speak Russian?"

"No, sir."

The scientist nods in approval. A few moments later, a Soviet general enters the room. The soldiers salute him as he passes by and takes a look at the boy. He says nothing to him but instead, turns to the scientist and asks in Russian, "This is the boy?". The scientist nods. The general takes another look at the boy before continuing, "He can't speak Russian, no?".

"Not yet General, so speak as freely as you like," the scientist hands a file to the general, "Zebediah Killgrave. Born in Rijeka, Yugoslavia. His parents were anarchists who were arrested and executed five years ago. Since that time, Zebidiah has spent his life in an orphanage."

The general checks his files, "He's intelligent."

"Extremely. His test scores were nearly perfect despite his upbringing. He's still very young so the proper conditioning could produce a sufficient operative."

"What if this process fails?"

"He has no known relatives. No one will miss him."

The general hands the file back to the scientist, "I'll approve of your experiment and alert the Kremlin. When will the process be finished?"

"Three months, perhaps?"

"Then I'll return in three months," the general quickly turns and leaves. The scientist turns and nods to one of the soldiers standing behind Zebidiah and a moment later, a needle is quickly inserted into his neck. Zebidiah barely lets out a scream before everything goes black.

Three months later...

Zebidiah floats inside the salene tank. He is naked except for a pair of briefs and an oxygen tank strapped to his face with a tank on his back. Several needles have been inserted into various parts of his body and the nearby monitors check his vital signs. The scientist watches Zebidiah sleep until the general comes back into the room, followed by two guards.

"Good evening, General," the scientist exclaims.

"Is he ready?"

"I was just about to empty the tank."

"Then don't let me stop you."

The scientist pulls a lever and the needles are quickly retracted out of Zebidiah's body in a way that does not look particularly painless. He opens the bottom part of the tank and the purple fluid spills out into a drain. The men wait patiently as the tank empties and Zebidiah's body is left leaning against the glass. His eyes begin to open, his vision blurred and his hearing muffled as he barely makes out the shapes and sounds of the scientist and the general talking to one another. A few minutes later, he is out of the tank and laid on an operation table. A bright light shines over him as the scientist examines him.

"He seems to be healthy, General," the scientist tells him.

"What sort of results will we expect from this process? We have spent a great deal of money so I trust the experiment was a complete success? We have our spy?"

Zebidiah searches the room, his eyes finally resting on the solider next to the table.

"We still need to run the proper tests but everything seems in order," the scientist continues.

Zebidiah's hand weakly reaches out to the soldier.

"Let's hope so," the General tells him, "Some of the things you claim he can do sound far-fetched, honestly."

Zebidiah continues to reach for the soldier, tenderly sliding his fingers across his wrist. The soldier looks down at him curiously.

"It seems outside the realm of possibility but I assure you, it will work," the scientist tells him.

Zebidiah grabs the soldier's wrist tightly. The soldier tries to pull away, but Zebidiah holds firm, his eyes locking on the soldier's eyes intensly. He stops struggling almost immediately finally also locks eyes with the boy. Meanwhile, the second soldier watches curiously.

"It had better," the general begins, "This program came at a great price. Our country is not what it once was. We need this to work."

Zebidiah and the soldier lock eyes. Purple veins begin to emerge along Zebidiah's face and they are soon followed by dark, purple and black splotches that almost look like bruises. The second soldier stationed at the door cocks his head ot the side as he notices something strange. The scientist and general, meanwhile, are unaware.

"General, I promise, once he recieves proper training... we will have the perfect weapon against the West. The Americans will destroy themselves from inside out before they even realize what we've done here."

The soldier continues to stare at Zebidiah as his other hand slides onto the sidearm holstered on his belt. The second soldier slowly raises a finger toward him, "Er... General?". The General turns to him, "Yes, what is it?". The soldier pulls his gun and fires, killing the general in the next second. The scientist backs away quickly but he is shot next as the soldier turns to him, wide-eyed and mechanical in his movements. At this point, the second soldier has his gun drawn and fires a shot, hitting his partner in the chest. Despite the bloody wound, the soldier does not react and instead, turns and fires a final shot which kills the soldier at the door.

Zebidiah calmly sits up and surveys the carnage. The soldier stumbles back and blinks as he comes to his senses. First, he touches the bloody wound in his chest. Horrified and in pain, he drops to his knees. Zebidiah's bare feet touch the ground as he stands, gazing down at the dying soldier. They lock eyes one final time before Zebidiah turns and slowly walks to the door; behind him, the soldier finally falls over dead. Zebidiah is gone.