Mold. The cell stank of it. Mold, along with piss and shit. The walls are coated with the slimy substance of mildew. Anyone who dared to breathe through their nose deeply would gag as tears obscured their vision. Chains rattle. The room is nearly pitch black, a small rectangle of light coming from a thick, metal door infused with iron. Iron that burns those that wield magic from Earth. The patch of light shines down on the cement floor, showing off old, dried blood. Pools of newer blood stain the floor as well. Labored and pained breathing is the only sound within the cell of cement walls, floor, and ceiling. Iron is infused with everything but the floor.
The woman is lying on her side.
Her honey blond hair is swept over her face, fluttering with each slow breath. The greasy strands stick in the blood surrounding her, the pool growing one milliliter at a time. Her legs are touching, arching forwards and bending at the knees. Several scars, pinpricks or not, litter her calves and thighs. Her ankle and below are untouched, savor for scabs between her toes and on the bottom of her feet. Her arms are littered with scars and cuts. New or old. Her back is the worst of it.
She can hardly breathe.
Each labored breath makes her body scream in agony. Whip marks stretch from her shoulders to her hips. Blood runs from her wounds. Her shirt, loose from weeks without food, is missing the back from the torture she had been put through. She had been there, in that same room, for more than seven years. She was taken when she was nearly eighteen. She would have turned within four months. She's nearing twenty-four, or maybe she already is.
And he's the one that gave her up.
She had known him since she was to young to remember, before she counted as a toddler. He was the first to know. For nearly a year, she had denied it. Denied that her first love was the one who had thrown her into the clutches of HYDRA. He was average, just barely taller than her. Her gaze landed straight below his eyes. He had naturally bronze skin. He had short, steady fingers with large palms. His eyes are dark brown, nearly black. Just thinking of him makes her heart hurt. He was her first kiss. Her first everything.
A huff of bitter laughter fills the cell as her eyes glare into the box of light. The lights hanging from the ceiling outside make blue spots in her vision when she looks away. Her heart throbs. Her physical pain is nothing compared to the heartbreak. She trusted her own mother less than him. She trusted him before she trusted her own parents. Before her brother. Her heart begins to throb with agony. The past her would begin sobbing, trying desperately to ignore the heartache. Now, she stares blankly ahead, nearly relishing the only emotion she's felt in so long.
Her wrists are aching from the metal around them. Her wrists are chained into the ground. Each link is half an inch thick, going into the cement with no metal plating or screws. They put the chain in the cement. The metal cuffs around her wrists glow blue. If she tries to escape, they'll electrocute her until she passes out. She nearly shudders at the memory but suppresses it. The people ignore her wails of agony whenever she tries. Her turquoise eyes, faintly glowing, stare down at her hands through the eye-holes in her purple mask that resembles the universe, covered by honey blond hair. She pulls her gaze to the door when the several locks disengage.
She can see red within the box of light, and only now to the screams of pain reach her ears. So many. Overwhelming. Her hands tremble with the need to cover her ears. She can't move. Her eyes harden, and she forces herself to still as the door begin to open. Her throat bellows in torment, the tinny taste of blood flowing through her mouth. She hears voices murmuring as harsh, artificial light fills the room. With her clothes, all dark, they won't see her until they look. But, knowing HYDRA, that already know.
Strangers walk in. As usual. She glares at them, wishing for any sort of way to get out. To see the sun, even if it blinds her. Hell, to smell garbage. The two visibly cringe after just a small sniff. She's pathetically used to it. As the months went by, the smell somehow got better to handle in the beginning. She hardly notices it unless she leaves for an hour and comes back. Of the twin strangers, one gags while the other one makes a disgusted grumble. She stays still for what seems like hours. Their hushed words are garbled and inaudible before a feminine gasp, though short and cut off, fills the room.
They had found her after several minutes.
Instantly, shadows hide the light from the door, relieving her burning eyes. She drags her turquoise eyes up, only to see a woman with a body hugging suit of some sort looking over her. She's the red she saw - her hair. She sees the woman, and feels, her prodding gently at her legs. The words flowing from both of their mouths are quiet. They must think her dead. When the woman accidentally presses down on a deep wound, most likely infected, the woman lets out an airy groan of pain. The two shoot away, the man too far to be clearly seen in her blurred eyesight.
She feels herself being lifted. She doesn't struggle, but inwardly begins to shake in terror once she realizes the man was the one who picked her up. She keeps her eyes open, though it doesn't help. From being used to darkness for so long, her eyes burn with a fiery ferocity and her surroundings are blurred. Her body aches with every bump, which she knows is the man stepping. He's going fast, most likely sprinting. Her body jostles, and suddenly there's more voices. Hands, rough and gently, prod at her wounds and scars. She can't hear anything as a ringing starts in her ears. She feels a hand gently touch the mask, warm fingertips dipping below the edge-
She screams.
Her throat burns and blood starts running down her throat, but she continues screaming as the tough is wrenched away. She feels a surge shoot through her, shocking her system. Her fists clench weakly as she screams louder yet, eyes shutting tightly. Several crashes follow, and sounds of pained yelping and bellowing following. Glass breaks. Loud booms - Guns she remembers - echo. Pain hits her with a pinprick to the arm.
Her cries are silenced and her body goes limp.
She snaps open her eyes which glow brighter. She can feel the familiar porcelain mask on her face. She looks around, reaching under it to feel the same cut, now healed, with dried blood scabbed over it. She blinks rapidly, blue dancing across her vision. She tries to move, only to realize straps are forcing her still. Keeping her legs down. One over her shins and thighs, then stomach. She doesn't bother to fight against the restraints. They kept her arms open.
Forcing her aching body to move, she glances around her surroundings. Her heart catches in her throat. She's in a glass tank. Glass below, above, and all around her in a cylinder. She sits up straighter, reaching down and unstrapping the thick leather pieces. She falls onto the floor. Landing on her side, she lays still for several minutes before voices, barely audible, make her tilt her head, looking to her side. Her eyes narrow immediately in suspicion as she surveys them one at a time.
There's a dark skinned man, arms folded behind his back, as he stands in front of a container similar to hers. She watches with interest as he continues speaking, gesturing to a mess of dials and buttons below the steps. He's wearing an eye patch. Her body aches, her muscles unable to stop shaking as she pushes herself up. She bites down on her tongue, drawing blood as she wobbles into a crawl. The door to her cage opens, and alarmed shouts squirm into her ears. Glancing up, she sees several men in black suits aiming guns at her. She hold back a scowl, rising stubbornly into a stand.
Her knees get kicked from behind, but as a reflex she bends them and flips, bragging the mans head between her calves and throwing him to the ground as she twists in one movement. She hears clicks, but no one fires at her. She bares her teeth, turquoise glinting in the dark. The dark skinned man steps in methodically, with calculated steps. She watches closely. It doesn't escape her eye that the man in the cage similar to hers in smirking, looking at her. The man stops within a foot of the doorway.
"Stand down." He orders, trying to insert some sort of dominance over her. She fights against scowling darkly. Her mind reels for answers, finally settling on a plan of action. She has to wait until he barely suspects, however. She glares at him, tilting her chin in defiance. His jaw tightens. "Stand." Down." He orders, more roughly and harshly. Deciding that's enough, she fakes a flinch an sags her shoulders, dropping her gaze to his feet. The guards tense at the movement, but she sees their grips loosen slightly. Perfect. She thinks with an invisible sneer.
"Now, you have something we need." The man speaks. She stays silent. He steps closer. "You can hear me. You're the ant, I am the boo-"
She interrupts him by having a familiar surge shoot through her, throwing all of the men back against the glass. The cage drops several feet, making her growl in annoyance and worry. Before any of them have a chance to fire, or the man to call for reinforcements, she runs through the door. She goes to the control panel closest to hers, frantically searching the buttons, flips, and dials. Green, blue, and red glare up at her. She slams a fist down on the green just as something throws her to the side. She grunts, rising her head as she goes through the wall. Her body wails in agony.
She stays silent.
Blood drips down her whole body, wounds reopening. A man in a black suit is holding a large gun, pointed directly at her. A large syringe is planted in her thigh. She hisses from the sting, trying to rise only to realize she can't move. The second man backs away.
"Curare." The mans states. Instantly, she growls and struggles to move more. The plant is paralyzing. The woman with red hair steps from behind the balding man who still holds a smirk on his face. She surveys her like a piece of meat. The woman hisses. The energy inside of her coils painfully, wishing to be let out from so long of being forced to hold it in. "Now, I'm not sure what this does," He starts as she sends him a glare worthy to bring a king to his knees. "but I wouldn't mind testing it on you."
Still glaring, she forces the men from her cage to be thrown into the wall, though, with a smirk, she sends the leader right into the man holding the large gun. Both let out grunts of annoyance and pain. She smirks as several guards pull her back into her cage, tossing her in carelessly. Though a part of her wishes to throw a sarcastic comment, she stays silent. Her voice was beaten from her. Each time she even coughed, they would whip her twenty times.
She lands on her side, her back facing the man in the separate container. Before the doors close, she can already hear the whispers of disgust as several agents glare at her scars. Letting the magic float into her blood stream, she stands and stomps forward, startling several agents into scurrying away. Too prideful to admit how exhausted she is, she turns lethargically, striding towards the cot. She sits on it, only to find her gaze becoming locked with an emerald pair of eyes staring right back.