Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers

Warning: Avengers AU, Alive!Pietro AU, Neutral Loki!AU, Neutral!Ultron AU

a/n: Just to clarify for further references; what "Eve" currently displays towards Jeraslovik can be identified as some sort of twisted Stockholm Syndrome. Due to having been raised to believe nothing else than his words and his orders, she is completely oblivious to the fact that his treatment towards her and the virtues he has taught her are beyond monstrous, to put it mildly. She doesn't wish to get back to him because she's thinking: "He's cruel, but he loves me, so I'll return to him." or anything like that. She genuinely doesn't understand anything else. His "love", or lack thereof, has been the only thing she's been able to understand for all her life, and therefore thinks she's worthless without him.

Also, I'll clear up that she understands the basic of humans and society, but not in depth like someone whose lives have been surrounded by the world would understand. She is literate, she understands a list of language, she knows of a limited range of colors (more than mentioned in an earlier chapter due to that being in the past), and she knows the definition of words and purpose of certain objects. However, she does not understand, in-depth: emotions (she can express them and feel them, but not understand them with words), objects that are solely for the benefit of enjoyment and pleasure rather than for necessity, and social norms/rules of decency (like the discomfort associated with nudity).

Wilhelm Jeraslovik, as you might have understood, is everything but sane. He possesses a twisted-beyond-intelligible God-complex, which is fueled by his determination to both make use of himself and perfect what he deems dissatisfying about the human race and the world itself. This chapter highlights this from a more sinister perspective, to which I wish to warn you will be quite explicit. You have been warned.

More information will come in the later chapters. I apologize if there ends up being any confusion or statements which clashes with one another. I tend to be rather forgetful about such. If there are, please make note of it and I'll have it corrected shortly.

Thank you for your attention and please enjoy.

Chapter 10: Monster made of Men

Ever since the moment he first escaped his wretched mother's womb, Wilhelm Jeraslovik's mind had been preoccupied with little else other than the determination to make his name become synonymous with "genius". His father had always told him that if he failed to do anything less, he would become little more than a waste of space; an expendable object whose worth could be deemed useless unless he succeeded to make it worth something.

He pondered reminiscently on this as he sat there in the cell, watching a few droplets of water descend from the humid ceiling to the floor beneath. His current location was less than the ideal sort he would have preferred in terms of containment, but beggars could not be choosers. After all, he doubted that they would be able to keep him there for much longer now. It had been some time since he had first been put there – a few weeks or so at most, he wasn't quite certain – but it was nothing he would be incapable of managing for a little while longer. It wasn't like he was being tortured or subjected to inhuman treatment for information like they did during the Cold War or wars in general. These humans – his captors – found such qualities within themselves distasteful and would, therefore, suppress them in order to portray themselves as being "better" than the likes of which Wilhelm himself was categorized as:

"Monsters".

His lips twisted into an inhumane grin as he heard that word echo in his mind. It was all too ironic for him to keep a straight face as he thought about the dramatic effect which lingered in that designation. It was the same name his mother had called him upon discovering his collection of animal bones in the closet when he was six. It was the same name his classmates had used to describe him whenever they spotted him mangle an animal's cadaver in the schoolyard in an attempt to figure out the function of its organs. It was the very same word his coworker Nathalia had called him upon deeming the work he subjected his daughter towards as "atrocious". It was the same name the scarlet bitch had called him as she interfered when he was about….

Cold sweat began to run down his skin upon recalling everything that had happened to him throughout his life, and everything he predicted would occur sooner or later. All the names that had been thrown at him in the past echoed through his cranium like voices in a tunnel. Why had they all called him such vicious things? Wilhelm had never truly grasped what kinds of reasons could justify such strong reactions. He had never done anything wrong in his life; all he had ever wanted to do was to make his limited existence beneficial to the human race, even if they didn't deserve it. He had always possessed an affinity towards animals and would never hurt them in any way. He had never subjected his preciouspreciousprecious daughter to any abuse in her life. He had never hurt her. He never would.

He loved her.

He loved her sososososososososoooooooo much!

HELOVEDFEELINGHERSKINBENATHHISFINGERSANDHERSUBMISSIONTOHIMHELOVEDTHEWAYHERBODYACTEDASHEWOULDLOVEHERANDHOWSHEWOULDALWAYSFOLLOWHISWORDSJUSTSOTHATHECOULDEXPERIENCETHESAMELOVEHESHOWEDHERSHEWOULDNEVERCRYANDTHEWAYSHELOOKEDATHIMWASABSOLUTELY–

BANG! He slammed the back of his head against the wall behind him and quickly felt the warm blood erupt from beneath his skin on impact with the cold barrier. His nerves were running amok like ants working nonstop inside their hive; a hive which contained more genius than the world could handle. More than it DESERVED to have at all. Short-drawn and quickened breaths were inhaled and exhaled on unpredictable intervals, and he struggled not to lose consciousness then and there as his breathing-pattern failed to exceed the amount of oxygen which was required for him to function properly. Black spots circled his vision and he could feel the phantom needles pierce the exterior of his finger palms.

The need to find her struck him like a whip to his bare flesh. It had been too long without his precious doll! He had to be there with her! The world was a cruel place and without him there, she would be lost! She would cease to function completely! If she ceased to do so, she would become expendable! The same kind of designation he loathed hearing from his father! He would not allow her to become such a disgusting cretin! He would not allow those filthy humans to corrupt her mind and turn her against him, making her fail to be of any use anymore! Cease to be of use to him! Cease to be of use for the human race he wished to perfect!

HE WAS THEIR GOD, FOR FUCK'S SAKE! SHE WAS THEIR EVE! HE NEEDED HER!

The pace of his pulse began to quicken a mile per second, making the rapid movements he committed whilst sitting there in that unbearable position seem like those belonging to an uncontainable beast about to break free from its captivity at anymoment. Those fucking humans…... HE WOULD SEE THEM ALL BREAK! HE WOULD WATCH THEM SQUIRM IN THEIR OWN BLOOD! HE WOULD STRIP THEM OF EVERYTHING WHICH THEY HELD DEAR! HEWOULDNEVERBLINKIFITMEANTLOSINGAMOMENTWATCHINGTHEMSLOWLYDIE!

"BASTARDS!" he shouted, clinging the tips of his fingers into his scalp, penetrating his skin beneath his hear. "YOU'RE ALL FUCKING BASTARDS! YOU'LL DIE, AND I'LL BE THERE WATCHING YOU WHEN YOU DO!"

Even if all he needed was to be patient, the screams that escaped his cell from the depths of his throat proved that it was a quality he was seldom possessing as of lately. All because of those wretched humans. Well, soon enough, the Flood would sweep by, leaving nothing more than disarray and destruction in its wake. He would make sure of it.

Each of her fingers ached as she attempted to pry the right wristband off of her, feeling the metal almost grind itself through her skin due to the pressure she was deliberately inflicting on herself as she continued. Having already experienced much more severe penetration to her skin in the past, both internally and externally, she barely paid any notice of the few droplets of blood that had escaped the blisters which had formed beneath her palms.

However, much to her disappointment, her physical prowess proved itself inferior and she finally let go, taking a shallow breath as the friction ceased from her hands. Her blood throbbed beneath her skin and produced a sensation akin to having something repeatedly press into them. Despite her increasing frustration, she refused to bend to the lack of physical competence. Less than a moment later, as if on instinct, she continued with the last remnants of her strength to try to make an effort. This time, however, she would not move a muscle.

Holding her breath for a brief moment, she put all her mind into her chest and exhaled. She could feel the spark within her chest ignite with heat in a moment's notice, striking her with a sense of power she had seldom been able to feel as of recently. She could feel the pulse in her appendages pump on interval, note the change in her irises as she opened her eyes and allowed the circumstances to become apparent to her with much more clarity now, endure the heat resonating through her body as she prepared to warrant her ultimate strength and finally break free from the bonds of captivity which had claimed her, and find her father.

But that feeling only lasted for a second or so before something else took its place.

Bright red lights began to flicker from certain spots on top of the surface of the wristbands, followed shortly by the sensation of sharp stings on top of her skin to which they were primarily attached. Her hands became paralyzed as her senses came to acknowledge the shockwaves that began to resonate through her entire being, and she could feel the powerful warmth in her chest discard her and become replaced with something she recognized as similar – if not entirely akin – to a feeling she had undergone on numerous occasions back at home; usually as a direct result of her rare – but not non-existent – displays of failure in the presence of her father.

Fear.

The waves that rang through her skin were hardly noticeable at first, making comparing them to the ones she had previously experienced back at Hydra seem like comparing knives with needles marks. Having already endured those ordeals on both separate and simultaneous occasions, she imagined that withstanding it would be relatively simplistic in terms of withstanding the brief agony.

That was, however, before volts began to increase themselves drastically on short notice, which caused all of the nerves that coursed through her body to erupt and become disoriented. Her fingers began to twitch uncontrollably and she could feel the metal burn against her the skin, leaving behind a surprisingly cold feeling she had only felt from the likes of ice. Her heartbeats were increasingly pumping within her chest to a seemingly unbearable point and she struggled to keep her composure intact as her body began to give in to what that was enfolding her physical being. Her knees folded beneath her and her arms wrapped themselves instinctively around her frame as though it would keep the aching away.

More lights began to flicker from the wristbands and started to ignite sparks to accommodate them on the exterior, like wires having been cut whilst their source of power remained active. It began to scorch her further, more than she thought was possible at this point. Saliva ran down her lips and her bones felt like they were internally shattering. Her back, her chest, her abdomen, her appendages; none of them were the liberty of any mercy. Everything hurt. It hurt like she was being incarcerated in a furnace whilst still alive. It was weakening her more now than ever before and admitting that fact pained her more than the wristbands currently did altogether.

Then, something more arrived just in time for her to officially consider it excruciating. She could feel panic begin to surge through her as the sound of approaching several pairs of footsteps became audible on the other side of the door, prompting her to assume that her attempt at defying their protocols had been taken into notice and she would now have to suffer the consequences of her disobedience, forcing her to make a decision based on impulse rather than strategic maneuvering like she usually did.

The option placed before her were hardly considered preferable; either get taken away to someplace where the probability of her ever getting back to her father's location would become severely lower than it currently was, or…

Try and get out of there now.