Chapter 2
Since she had awoken several hours ago, the guard on its slow route had passed by twice, one rat had passed outside the steel door, and she had counted 3 leaks in the ceiling of her cell.
It was soon after the guard had passed the second time that she heard the sound for the first time. As soon as she heard it, she sprung into a crouch, muscles tensed for a fight. She heard it again, it was closer. A soft whissshhhh. Soft, but certainly closer. The third time it came, it was right outside the door. Metal clanked against metal, and the door to the cell opened and closed faster than she could blink.
There was a person standing with her in the cell. He was tall, with a lanky build, and curly hair that just came to his eyes. He was dressed standard for one of the experiments from the lab upstairs. She noticed that he held a ring of keys. He stared at her, seeming more intrigued than surprised.
He broke the silence first. "Who are you?"
It took a moment for the question to register. Who? What did he mean? She realized after a second that he must be requesting identification.
"D4-36," The best answer she could muster.
He looked completely baffled now. Her voice creaked as if it hadn't been used in years, but that wasn't as unusual to Pietro as the answer she gave. A number. Who gives a number when asked a name? He mustered humor as best he could, "Not much of a name," Mentally, he kicked himself for sounding so stupid.
She furrowed her brow further. She was always identified by her number, yet he seemed dissatisfied with it as an answer. A part of her mind tensed with fear. She got it wrong. She mustn't get anything wrong. They would hurt her. No. No no no no nonononono.
Seeing how quickly she was beginning to breathe, Pietro reached out to grab her shoulder, to comfort her. With how concerned he was over her, he didn't see her eyes flash in panic, and didn't see her move until she had grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the floor. He reacted in time to catch her fist before it hit his face, and pushed her back before supersonically scrambling to his feet.
She attempted to leap at him, but was quickly stopped by the chain that bound her to the wall. She flinched as it tugged at her neck, and it only took him a moment to see why.
The skin of her neck under where the collar rubbed was a mass of red welts and scar tissue. Growling, she yanked at the chain with her neck, only causing more drops of blood. Pietro noticed the keyhole on the side of the collar; it was a very peculiar shape, and he quickly dug through the keys he stole to find one of a similar shape. Swiftly, he dove in and unlocked the collar, wasting no time in pressing himself against the opposite wall as it fell away.
Slowly, she rose and stepped backwards. They stood like that for a moment, both equally confused. Pietro as to why she didn't attack him, and her as to why he helped her.
Seeing that she wouldn't speak, Pietro did. "Why did you call yourself that?"
Mentally cringing at what she heard as criticism, and not wanting to get another answer wrong, she replied after a moment in a shaky voice, "That is my identification number." The frantic supplication in her words betrayed her fear.
That sentence only served to make them both more confused. The term- identification number- was familiar to him. He and Wanda had been given their own, I-52 and I-53 respectively, but Struker and the doctors feared them too much to treat them poorly after their powers developed.
Running short on ideas to communicate with this girl, he reached out to the only person he could. Wanda. Wanda, help!'
Pietro. Her reply was immediate, and he felt his sister's calming presence in his mind. Pietro, where are you? Then a few seconds later, What the hell is that thing with you?!
Wanda was used to people's minds. She spent her free hours lazily prying through people's memories, their hopes and fears. She knew the energy a human brain gave off. Whatever was near Pietro was not human.
The energy she usually sensed was normally calm, reflecting the person's thoughts. Different areas gave off more energy as they thought different things. What she had seen with that thing was completely different. Some parts overloaded with energy, others entirely devoid of it. It shifted and cracked on a whim, swirling like a giant lighting storm.
Experimentally, Wanda tried the simplest trick on this new mind, looking at a memory. The instant she prodded into the thing's memories, it was like placing her hand on a black hole. Darkness sucked her in, pulling and tugging her. She smelled ozone and felt a rush of cold. She yanked that part of her mind away from the deep pit before it was sucked down.
Wanda, Pietro spoke to her again. Wanda, it's ok. I found a girl down here. She looks hurt. We need to help her.
Get back here, now. Wanda ordered, still reeling from what had just happened. What we need to do is talk.
Pietro took one last look at the strange girl, and with a final wave and a "See ya," was gone.
The girl was now alone in her cell. She sat next to her chain. They would hurt her when they found it off. She thought about what had just happened. Why had he helped her? Why hadn't she attacked him? Why did she feel so strange?
Then, a faint thump, thump, thump, in the distance alerted her to the guard returning on his well-worn path through the dim hallways. Somehow, she felt much more lonesome as she watched a spider scurry across the ceiling.