A/N: Hey again people of fanfiction! This is another prologue of an OC. Though this is for Batmarcus' fic 'Troubled Times', and I'm so delighted that he took up my suggestion. So, I can say with full confidence that I own this OC. Hope you like her, darling! Oh, I don't own Phineas and Ferb.
Felicity
Felicity groaned. She'd been tied for perhaps a week to the table. She didn't know, time didn't seem to exist here. Wherever here was.
The door opened, casting light upon her naked form. She was strapped to a steel table. Like the ones they had in hospital operation rooms.
"Morning, Miss Daniels." A thick German accent greeted her. She hated that voice. Even more so, she hated the owner of that voice. She refused to greet him and kept her eyes shut.
"We will be doing some tests today." He said. She whimpered. Her body was sore from having been in one position far too long. Thick leather was cutting into her wrists and ankles, making the skin sensitive and raw. Her tormentor moved across the room to a machine she knew to be situated in the far corner of the room. She heard him press various buttons and twirl even more dials.
A low mechanical noise told her the metallic helmet was being lowered. Soon cold pins entered her scalp, entering the sensitive tissue that was her brain. She didn't feel the pain anymore. It was done too often for it to hurt.
"Ready?"
She didn't answer. Even if she said no, he would still continue to do it. Another button was pressed, and she was rigid.
Dozens of electrical pulses went through her body. Her fingertips shone bright blue, while her eyes lost their colour. She was seeing everything. The different shades the ceiling was, the thin railings that was supporting the upper floor. For not the first time she wondered where she was. Even more so, who she was. She was Felicity Daniels, but that was all she knew. She knew not if she had parents, what her age was, where she was from…
Was she dead?
No. If she was dead she was certain she wouldn't be feeling this.
She didn't scream anymore. She lay still as another injection pricked her arm.
"What is it today?" She asked, her fingertips' glow becoming white.
"Radium." He answered nonchalantly. "And Arsenic."
She didn't care. She was immune to Arsenic by now. Everyday he'd insert some new radio-active element into her arteries.
She felt a warm, sticky liquid pour down her forehead. She knew it was blood, it always was. The helmet was pumping some liquid into her brain, and somewhere blood needed to go out.
He pulled the injection out and set it on the table near her bed.
"We're done. Feel any different?" He enquired, as if they were discussing the weather.
"No." She lied. In truth, she did feel different. She had for a month and a half now. She felt stronger. Mentally and physically.
He sighed, giving an order for her helmet to lift.
"Until tomorrow then." He was downcast. An alarm went off. He stood upright, glancing at the door.
"Dad! We have to go!" A female voice yelled.
"I'm coming, Vanessa!" He answered, bolting out the door.
He'd left the door open.
He was testing on her. Had been for about two years. She hadn't known who she was when she'd woken up on the same table she was on now. She'd been locked in a room with a single bed. Now this was her prison.
"Not for long." She said loudly. She flexed her arms, pulling them together. The bonds broke easily, though not without hurting the raw skin. She sat up, breaking the many straps there too. She quickly untied her feet and swung her feet off the table. When they hit the floor she shivered. The floor was freezing. She made to stand up, but she immediately fell to the floor. Her legs weren't used to working so much. She grunted, forcing herself up.
When she regained her balance, she wanted to get to the door.
She was surprised to already be at the door. These radio-active elements had really affected her, in more ways than one. A grin spread across her face. She exited the door, wanting to find an escape.
She searched for hours, yet no escape or exit made itself known to her. Once she passed a mirror, where she paused. She didn't recognize herself. She had dark skin, brown fizzy hair and light eyes. She couldn't tell what colour they were, they were so light. Maybe they once were green, brown or blue. When she smiled, she realised, she looked a bit nervous and awkward.
Am I an awkward person? She asked herself, turning to admire every angle. She wasn't thin; they'd made sure she'd had enough nutrients. Was it by force-feeding her or feeding her through a tube, they ascertained her health.
She must once have been pretty, she thought. The arteries in her eyes were a dark yellow, while her pupils seemed to be darker shade of white, her lips were an unnatural red, and her fingertips still glowed blue. Would they eternally glow blue?
She turned her back to the mirror, not wanting to see the demon's face.
Soon she came into a room. She recognized her tormentor, many others in the room with him. She hid herself. As she watched, the German psychopath ran forward, attacking a boy she estimated to be nearly fifteen. The boy had a sword, and the sword slid through the German like a warm knife through butter.
Chaos broke out.
Felicity saw the woman. Dressed in black, a look of worry and pain etched onto her pretty face. Felicity ran forward, grabbing the woman and carrying her out.
"You!" Vanessa gasped.
"You know me?"
"You're my father's biggest experiment."
"I'm no longer that." She said harshly. "Tell me where an exit is, so we can get out of here."
"There."
. . .
Hours later Vanessa and Felicity just sat, staring at one another.
"Why?" Vanessa asked.
"Why not?"
"We tormented you. Tested on you…"
"And see what I've become." Felicity smirked. "I'm more powerful than you will ever hope to be."
"But the tests failed." Vanessa countered.
"My sanity too." Felicity giggled. "I'll get that boy for you, the one that killed your father."
"How?"
"You never question a mad person." Felicity said. She had no intention of helping Vanessa. What she wanted to make sure of, however, was that this certain German family went extinct. And she couldn't do it alone.
She'd have to play it insane. Make the woman trust her.
. . .
Three months later, Felicity was made the second-in-command. She took her badge, faking an immense pride. Going as far as to boast about it. Soon after she grabbed a wine-glass and smashed it over an innocent's head. The latter turned around, ready to take her on. As soon as he set eyes on his attacker, he scarpered.
You didn't mess with Felicity – she breaks bones on a whim.