Alright... I decided that I'm going to do shout outs for everyone that reviewed much later... sorry, but it's just easier on my part g. Anyway... So sorry for the delay, computer problems, mind you. But enough of that, I'm back! Disclaimer I do not own any Marvel or X-men ideas and am not collecting money for this. Along with that I do not own Fermilab. This story is not an endorsement of any kind. Now on to the story...

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My eyelids felt like they were weighed down with heavy stones and I struggled to get them opened. I could feel something binding my wrists in front of me and my ankles were also bound together, my high heels lost in the unknown. A rag was tied around my head to block any screams pleading for help that could come from my mouth. There was a cold, metal feeling to the floor and a faint rumbling with it. My eyes finally unlocked but my vision was slightly clouded and everything had a blur around the edges of it, complimenting the unsteady feeling in my head. Lying horizontal to the floor, my sight started to clear after a bit of time passed. I could make out two seats, the outline of their two occupants in front of me. The floor bounced and my mind connected the doubting thoughts of this room not actually being a room. I glanced out the window and saw streetlamps that illuminated the dark sky blast by.

A groan escaped my lips as the floor of the van bounced again. My muscles ached and screamed in pain. I looked up and caught one of my captors staring at me. I recognized his face as the man who had been chasing me, when was that? I couldn't recall how long I had been out. The man chuckled and turned back around to face the windshield. The vehicle hit another bump in the paved road and my head rudely slammed against the metal floor. Blackness overtook me instantly again.

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I woke up to the creaking of the rusted doors of the van being pulled open and a flashlight being shined into my tired eyes. Hands grasped my bound limbs and unceremoniously pulled me out of the back of the van. I was thrown to the ground and my ankle binds were cut; yet my hands were not released. I was gruffly pulled to my feet and I was pushed forward to a building. I stumbled further and then fell to my weak knees. One of my captors yelled a warning and told me to move forward. I shook my head and one of the men became enraged and grabbed a handful of my hair. He yanked on it and pulled my head back to look into my eyes. His eyes were an emerald green; he spoke sharply and pushed my head forward with disgust. He nodded to his partner and they both lifted me off the ground by my forearms. Fists like iron clamps carried me towards the door. The door itself opened and two more men greeted us. I screamed for help, but the rag muffled my cries. We got closer to the door, to a prison I did not want to be in. We stopped harshly in front of the doors and my two hijackers pulled ID cards that dangled on chains from under their shirts. The two men inside nodded briefly and stepped back. I was pushed forward but before they could force me inside I swiftly brought my legs out and lodged them on the doorjamb. My struggle was not greeted with surprise, however, just looks of boredom as if the guards dealt with this behavior all the time. The new men inside grabbed my ankles and pulled me indoors.

They carried me through multiple hallways until eventually we stopped and my ankles were dropped to the floor. One of the men who were holding my feet pulled a card out and swiped it through a reader next to a steel door. The door pulled itself open, revealing a dark and dank room with just a wicker mat on the floor. I struggled with the men, seeing that the cell was going to be my future accommodations. My resistance was futile however, as the men tersely shoved me into the gloomy cell and slammed the door shut.

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I stumbled to my knees and realized that my clothes had been ripped in places, my pantyhose in tattered strips from all the struggles. Tears leaked from my eyes and blurred my vision slightly as I looked around the dark prison. None of the walls, except for the one framing the door, had any passageways to freedom. The door itself had a paned window in it that let in some scraps of replica light. One of them, however, had a chunk of concrete taken out of it, like some giant monster had gotten hungry enough to take a bite out of the wall, about five feet above the floor. I could see the hole was barred over, as if the people here were too busy with other things to properly fix it.

Through my distorted eyesight I spotted a sharp rock that was probably once a piece of the broken wall. Crawling over to the rock, I started to carve away at the plastic restraints. The tears from my eyes had dried, my brain starting to find another emotion: fury. The angrier I got, the harder I whittled the plastic bindings. After several minutes of working my anger out on the rock and the ties, I finally broke free, cutting the side of my hand in the process.

"Shit!" I yelled in anger and pain.

"You might want to look out for those sharp edges." A deep voice in front of me advised. My head snapped up in answer. I searched the shadows that were thrown by the light radiating by the window and spotted a face gazing down at me through the bars in the wall. I stood up abruptly and started to back away, tripping over the edge of the wicker mat and falling to the ground. I could feel my blood starting to drip down the side of my arm.

"Whoa, easy there, tiger. They don't want you to hurt yourself." The man's voice was soft and seemed kind. I could see his features in the dim light. He seemed to be only a bit older than me, maybe 28 or 29 years old.

"They? Who are They?" I questioned the man in the wall. "And who are you anyway?"

"They, being the guys who brought you here. You're way to important to them to start trying to hurt yourself now. Here, that looks kind of bad." He said back, ignoring my second question completely. I looked up at the man. He seemed truly concerned but his comments seemed very ominous, like he was hiding something. Suddenly he turned away from the hole, like the conversation was over with. A staggered ripping sound came from the break and he came back with a piece of torn, beige material in his hand. He tossed it in my direction and then nodded at it, instructing me to use it for my hand.

"I'm too important to them? For what?" I picked up the thrown piece of fabric and began wrapping my wound. I was starting to become angry with this stranger, although he seemed to be extremely kind. He was being extremely vague, but his voice seemed to make me trust him.

"What's your name?" He replied, steering the conversation away from his statements, like he was trying to deceive me. I had finished wrapping my hand and decided to give in and see if I could question him later.

"Vala Phoenix. Yours?"

"Evander." He said shortly, with no affection for his given title.

"Just Evander? No last name? I gave you mine." He gave me a small smirk to my remark and his eyes gave a glint of happiness for just the tiniest of seconds, but I caught it.

"Just Evander."