The escapee - Marvel

Chapter 57- Pessimism Vs Realism

A.N: Well, here's another one for you. I honestly have no idea what I'm going to write as I write these (I only have a very vague plan in my notes), so I am just as surprised this chapter ended up where it did just as you are. Hopefully, you'll like it though.

 I hope you are all having a great week, mine is great because I'm on half term and can do fuck all throughout the whole day. :))

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When Seven came to she couldn't understand what was happening. Her hands were pinned above her head to the wall and her head killed. She tried to pull her hands forward but she instantly stopped when she was met with a burning pain in her side. Oh.

She could remember now, Peter had shot her and then they had both been captured. She looked around and spotted Peter sitting next to her, hands bound in the same way but he was still unconscious. seven tried moving around so she could see if her phone was still in her pocket but she instantly knew it wasn't, her pockets were empty.

"Peter" She hissed and he slowly opened his eyes, peering over at her. 

"Five more minutes" He whispered before trying to go back to sleep. Seven rolled her eyes and whispered his name again.

"Peter you need to get up now," She said and he finally opened his eyes all the way. They seemed to continue widening as he took in her dishevelled sight and the blood on her clothes. 

"Oh, shit Seven I shot you" He remembered and began apologising. 

Seven didn't say anything, waiting for him to explain. 

"It all happened so quickly, I thought I had a shot lined up on him but then you moved and he moved and I had already pulled the trigger and then you were on the floor and I wanted to help you but I couldn't move and then I was unconscious on the floor and-"

"It's okay Pete" she cut him off before he could continue his rambling.

"Really?" he looked over and met her gaze,

"Well no not really because you shot me, but I'm pretty much okay" She replied, "I think I'm okay anyway." Seven took another minute to survey their surroundings. They were in a concrete cell, a small slither of the right wall filled with bars. 

"We need some sort of plan to get out of here," he said and Seven nodded weakly. Seven still felt drowsy and a little weak. Her strength was slowly coming back to her but she was desperately trying to finish healing her wound before anything happened, the last thing she wanted was it re-opening and her bleeding out.

Before either of them could speak again the door creaked and both their eyes diverted from each other to the sound. The door continued to open and Seven watched in horror as it closed again behind the tall Russian staring down at her.

She inched backwards but her back was already against the wall and her wrists were becoming more tormented as she fought to get further away. As Ivan approached she couldn't help but whimper, like a dog that had been abused. She hated herself for feeling so vulnerable and she knew he would punish her for it.

He crouched down and met her gaze, his eyes staring deep into her own. She felt exposed and vulnerable under his stare, he had always been able to read her and now was no different. He knew she was somewhat afraid and she hated herself for feeling afraid. 

"Subject Seven" He began, droplets of his spit falling onto her face as he spoke, her hands unable to wipe it away. "Welcome home," he said as his face broke out into a wide grin. Ivan stood back to his full height and reached into his pocket. Seven refused to show any more signs of weakness but she did see Peter wince as he pulled his hand out, expecting a gun.