The Mimic

122

Something wasn't right.

It was a phrase that y/n never thought she'd realise whilst locked up in the cell. Of course things weren't right. The poor girl was stuck with nothing but her own mind. She could hear the voices of her victims and the man in the suit as if they were right beside her. The nightmares forced her to fear the idea of closing her eyes. Y/n would sit in the cell and blankly stare at the walls for hours upon end - an empty shell of a person.

But this felt different. It wasn't about her this time, it was about Bruce.

As more and more months passed, the days blended into one torturous blur. Every day Bruce would test y/n, but of course there weren't any significant results. There was no way to fix y/n. Other mimics had been through the exact same thing when it came to losing control, but of course Bruce didn't know that. All Bruce had to base his studies off of were some old folk tales that were horribly translated. Every mimic had the bloody nose when overusing their powers, but that was almost all that Bruce knew. She was simply another lab rat for future generations. 

If y/n wasn't being tested, Bruce would be working on trying to clear the code words from her mind. It was working, but the trauma that amounted from it wasn't very pleasant at all. Clearing the code words played a big part in why she could hear the man in the suit's voice so clearly, and why her nightmares became even worse. Each word was heavily burnt into her brain, so getting them out was a hard, hard struggle. Especially when no technology was involved. Bruce was just making her build up a tolerance to the words, which was horrible. Even when the tolerance actually begun to build, it still wasn't a happy experience. 

She was terrified. Terrified that she'd hurt more people. Terrified that she'd fall straight back into her Hydra past. This already felt like Hydra. The horrible nightmares were there, the voices were there, and the emptiness was there. The only things that were missing were the shock collars, the mind wiping machines, and the cryofreeze chambers. 

Currently, y/n was starfished on the ground. Her blank stare was fixed up at the lights, each limb spread out in different directions. Usually she'd just curl herself up in a corner, but she wanted a change of scenery. If she was in her right state of mind, she would've dared herself to stare up at the blinding lights for as long as possible. But that energy had been fogged over by her constant numbing memories. Now she almost seemed to seek out the pain of the lights in her eyes. It actually let her feel something. 

Y/n was bored out of her mind. Which wasn't new for being locked in an empty cell, but this was different. Usually, she'd get some sort of interaction with Bruce every day. But, for almost two weeks now, there had been no interaction from Bruce. Nothing from the speakers, and nobody entering the cell unless it was mealtime. He was gone. Completely gone. And y/n had no clue why.

The walls to the cell were thicker than two buses put together. Completely soundproof and protected from any outside or inside attacks. There was no way for y/n to know what had happened to Bruce. If there was an attack, she would've never heard it. If he quit in an angry way, she would've never known. Oblivious and alone. 

As much as she hated hearing Bruce's voice, she hadn't realised how much a small interaction every day would help her cope. But now there was nothing. Complete and utter silence except for the voices in her head. It wasn't fun. 

Deep in the back of her mind, y/n knew that something wasn't right. Bruce would never just up and leave like that. Especially not after their last interaction. During their last conversation, he explained to her the test that he was going to have to do the next day. That test consisted on taking some blood from y/n, so she'd have to be sedated before he could enter the cell. Why would he say that and then just disappear? It didn't make sense.

There was no way y/n could gather any information. The only person that she could talk to was Bruce, and now he seemed to be gone. Nobody to talk to except herself. Completely abandoned like a failed experiment. 

Y/n tried her hardest not to think too much into it, but the feeling of concern just seemed to grow when it became mealtime. No meal arrived for her. Nothing had arrived for at least a week now. No meal at all. It was the same bland meal every time anyway, it was always hard to swallow. But that wasn't the point. That wasn't the point at all. 

She had been abandoned. That seemed to be the only believable option. Left for dead. Left to starve in a painful death. Y/n didn't blame them, she was a monster for everything that she'd done. She'd rather die than spent the rest of her life rotting in a cell. Hell, y/n was supposed to be dead years ago, but of course Hydra had stepped in. Being dead felt like a far more peaceful option than to listen to the screams of her victims any longer. If she died, she'd finally be able to close her eyes without having a nightmare.

Y/n let out a shaky breath, letting the back of her head rest against the cold ground. She hadn't moved from her spot on the floor for almost the whole day. It was just more comfortable. She was never going to escape now that Bruce had disappeared, she'd rather come to terms with death than try and avoid it. Her whole life had been a long line of pain and torture. If this was her time to finally rest, she was going to take it. 

But, just as y/n let her eyes flutter shut, a voice appeared over the speakers. A female voice.

"Wakey wakey, y/n."