Hello everyone!

This is my attempt to re-write an old story of mine called: 'The Weaver'. I've changed a few details about the protagonist but most of the main character is still intact for if you enjoyed or saw potential in her in the last incarnation. I did admittedly change several aspects about her character, and I may have also taken an idea from Victoria Aveyard's character Mare, so any red Queen fans can tell me in the reviews what it was.

Prolouge

All I know now are these four walls. These four walls that create my prison, my only place in this unknown world. One wall is one way glass, while the others are padded and kind of reflect the gentle daytime glow of the ceiling. I sleep on what is little more than a block of a foam covered in thin, age speckled, cream canvas with a pillow which is more or less a miniature replica of the mattress. I'm not allowed a duvet or blanket, apparently before I was here someone tried to commit suicide. I hope that they succeeded.

I don't know how long I've been here. I know its been at least a year, as I have no way of recording time. They keep us in metaphorical bubble wrap. After all, as an enhanced we are worth more to them than any other person; Hydra or not. They don't like us to speak either, especially about any great signs of American capitalism. I tried so desperately so keep it together for the first month or so. Unfortunately my chosen method of this was repeatedly singing Disney songs. It only earned several trips to dream town.

Dream town is their wonderful term for their sleep serum. It's some pretty typical secret service knockout juice, or it would be without the nightmare inducing hormones they added. You either learn not to speak or sing, or the serum drives all wishes to speak out of you forever. I can still remember many of the songs I used to recite when I thought that they were coming back for me.

It seems to be a theme in my life that I'm left behind in these situations. I don't want to dwell on it though. It was the naval incident that drove me to the U.K. Shield branch. And that led to my mission in the Pyrenees. And somehow I ended up here. I'm always the one left with the faulty comms headset, or stranded with the team member who is too badly wounded to move.

I curl up into a ball, my arms crossing over my lower legs with my hands gently clasping the soles of my feet. my pyjama like top and shorts whisper against each other and my skin. The charcoal grey of those now infamous garments is one of the six colours that I can regularly access in this isolated cube - at least half of which coming from my body, not the environment. As I open my eyes I notice that I've been towing with the essence or energy of the ceiling his whole time. I'm wrapped in a gentle ring of soft fronds of light, which are swaying like seaweed in the currents on a coral reef. They are strangely comforting; like a teddy bear from childhood, or a good book on a rainy day. I must not have read anything for a year. I wonder if my amazon pre-orders ever came? Probably not. I assume that my allocation is: Missing in Action, presumed dead.

Above me I feel the blind electric eye of the embedded security camera blink open. The flickering electric current feels like a broken floodlight aimed at my back, highlighting every scar gained in my service to Queen and country. I should have known that they would've noticed my little 'tantrum' and began recording my use of all the abilities they gave me. While they might've given my these powers in attempt to save my life and gain my service; they found them spotty, uncontrollable and me utterly ungrateful. Frozen death probably would've suited my better. And, no doubt, in a few minutes when I'm done calming down these therapeutic fronds of pure energy they'll drag me out of here for more 'training'.

Sure enough, as soon as the fronds vaporised they bust opened the door and placed me in restraints. I guess that they were watching to see when I was done, so I'd still be active... Unfortunately the restraints are some kind of enhancement suppressing and resistant material, otherwise I would've long tried to break out of here. And its not like I could break out my cell. They've coated the cell walls with it. It only works when it comes into contact with your skin or enhancement, hence the restraints being essentially handcuffs on steroids.

Once they're on, two burly Hydra thugs frogmarch me down the hallways, forcing my head down so that i can't see where we're going by the signs. I learnt my old path: left, left, right, left, right, left. That was the basic room where they just got me to do general destruction: decapitate the dummy, knock down the wall, disarm the assailants. You know, the basics. The kind of thing Captain America must do as a warm up. But last time they took me to a new room. A specific room for those of us with non-physical/non-body enhancements. Targets, power sources, everything a girl like me could need to train for an evil totalitarian organisation.

But today, I feel like pushing it. I don't know, for the first time since they beat me senseless for insubordination, I feel like splattering someone against a wall. I doesn't help that the restraints are a size too large, so if i dislocate my left thumb (as I've trained it to do) I can slide my hand out and undo the lock that's keeping me in. But there's one massive catch: I have to distract the five men surrounding me. And there's only way I know that will definitely work.

"Boy's and girls of every age, would you like to see something strange?" I warble, my voice cracking from months of silence. They look up, but think I'll stop as soon as i remember the punishments I've received before. "Come with us and you will see this, our town of Halloween!" My voice grows stronger despite the warble that remains. Their faces say it all. Anger. Distress. Confusion.

"How did you know it was Octob-" the youngest - and clearly most inexperienced member of the group says, before having a hand clapped over his mouth by a clearly livid superior. That's all the encouragement I need.

I begin to shout the chorus, desperate to rally everyone into rushing over as I work my left hand out of the container. Thumb now safely and slightly painfully dislocated. As they drag me towards another cell block I raise my voice louder again, feeling the burn in my throat grow. It's all made worth it when what seems like a young boy's voice rises with mine. I guess that his power must be voice based as i can hear him screaming along with me through the supposedly soundproof cell walls. As they turn their attention to the clearly larger threat of a full on revolt, I remove my left hand from its captor and undo the catch holding it's twin.

They whirl back to me as my restraints clatter and bounce on the floor. But before I can do anything, a great concussive wall of force pushes me across the room as the wall explodes and caves in. I throw out a little of my essence in a protective barrier which defends me from any debris by slicing it into centimetre sized chunks. However that does nothing against the black out sense of head meeting floor at force-

So... what do you think? Also the next chapter will be from Peter Parker a.k.a. Spoodermon's P.O.V!