The first thing Elsa, Queen of Arendelle knew was pain, erupting from the small of her back, opposite her navel. She could feel the panic building, and tried to force herself to calm down. She stopped the shouts she hadn't even known were erupting out of her from the pain.
The next thing she knew was that she was surrounded by strange men in strange outfits, pointing metallic contraptions that looked oddly like muskets at her. Their grim expressions and bulky suits could only mean one thing. Soldiers, she thought sourly.
There was something in their eyes, though - fear, she realized. These odd soldiers were afraid of her. Elsa was not fond of causing terror, but she needed to leave whatever this place was. She needed to know.
"Back away! I will not hesitate to wound you!" -she bluffed, summoning a frosty aura around her hands and pointing them in the soldiers' general direction.
The warriors met her shouts, angrily waving their weapons at her and shouting in a language she vaguely recognized as english. Elsa took a moment to take in her surroundings, and found herself to be horrified: she was standing in the middle of what used to be a room much like hers, completely destroyed and covered in frost. A scared looking servant was hastily being taken away by one of the soldiers, as she'd been hit by some of the wooden debris, and was bleeding from her head.
Elsa felt guilty, but the damage was done. She could not afford to be weak willed, if she wanted to find out what happened to...to Anna.
"Get down on the ground and put your hands in the air!" -one of the soldiers shouted. Elsa scowled. Her english was a little rusty, but if the man wanted to put her in the ground, well, she wasn't about to let that happen.
Elsa shot a blast of frost at the man's weapon, which immediately froze and caused him to drop it in pain. She had about a second to enjoy her triumph, when pain pierced the upper right side of her chest. She looked down to see her chest beginning to pour blood, and panicked, taking a hand to the wound.
The pain in the wound suddenly multiplied tenfold. She took her hand away, and was shocked to find that the wound was being sealed with ice, in much the same way her magic spread, weaving itself together and leaving a small, frozen patch behind.
The soldier who'd shot her looked terrified, but Elsa didn't much care. She raised her hand and a jagged wall of clear ice sprouted from the ground. The soldiers got over their shock and started shooting again, but the ice held, and she smirked in satisfaction, splitting the wall and pushing each section towards an individual soldier.
They didn't stand a chance. The ice trapped them against metal walls that surrounded her destroyed room. Her job done, she let the ice aura around her subside. She couldn't completely turn it off in her agitated state, but a light snow indoors wasn't much to worry about.
She turned to gather her bearings. The ice over the wound brittled and fell off, leaving behind blue skin. Elsa's eyes widened, but her skin returned to normality soon enough. Before she could ponder what that meant, though, she felt a pinprick at the back of her neck. She instantly reached for the source of the pain, but her senses dulled and her movement faltered.
Her legs gave out, and she fell hard, hitting her cheek on the floor. Sleep was beginning to overtake her.
Elsa felt furious. She needed to leave! Snow began to spiral around her into a miniature blizzard, and she felt the drowsiness slowly fade.
"Hit her again." -said someone.
Two more impacts pierced the skin on her back and buttocks. Before she could feel any indignation, however, unconsciousness won out, and her world went black.
Hill watched grimly as they hauled a wounded soldier out of the room. They'd been trying to get past the language barrier and the violent attitude for the past two months, but the Ice Queen wouldn't have it. S.H.I.E.L.D. had language techs working around the clock on her responses, and psychoanalysts trying to come up with acceptable scenarios for the woman out of time, but she invariably responded with increasingly lethal ice attacks. Last week, she'd summoned a golem made from snow and ice, which had actually managed to put two agents in critical condition and wounded a dozen more before being taken down. Not from damage, but by knocking out its creator.
Fury walked up to her, and she shook her head. "I'm sorry sir, but I must insist. This woman cannot be controlled or persuaded. She burns through sedatives like she has the constitution of an elephant. We've tried everything we can think of to neutralize her powers: dehydrating the room, binding her, encasing her in a container...nothing holds her back, and we're two ice spikes from losing men."
The Director considered her words. "And you're certain?"
Hill nodded. Fury sighed. "Put her under, then. We'll try again later, when we understand her better."
"Sir, even unconscious, she radiates cold. No location would be safe for containment."
Fury raised an eyebrow. "Be creative, Hill. She's cold, so give her a cold house. Harness her powers."
Hill blinked. "The Cold Storage Facility, sir?" -she asked sarcastically.
"Yes, Hill. I want her powering The Fridge."