The Mimic (HE/HIM VERSION)

122

Something wasn't right.

It was a phrase that y/n never thought he'd realise whilst locked up in the cell. Of course things weren't right. The poor guy was stuck with nothing but his own mind. He could hear the voices of his victims and the man in the suit as if they were right beside him. The nightmares forced him to fear the idea of closing his 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 him 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. He 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 his 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 he could hear the man in the suit's voice so clearly, and why his nightmares became even worse. Each word was heavily burnt into his brain, so getting them out was a hard, hard struggle. Especially when no technology was involved. Bruce was just making him 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.

He was terrified. Terrified that he'd hurt more people. Terrified that he'd fall straight back into his 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. His blank stare was fixed up at the lights, each limb spread out in different directions. Usually he'd just curl himself up in a corner, but he wanted a change of scenery. If he was in his right state of mind, he would've dared himself to stare up at the blinding lights for as long as possible. But that energy had been fogged over by his constant numbing memories. Now he almost seemed to seek out the pain of the lights in his eyes. It actually let him feel something.

Y/n was bored out of his mind. Which wasn't new for being locked in an empty cell, but this was different. Usually, he'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, he would've never heard it. If he quit in an angry way, he would've never known. Oblivious and alone.

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

Deep in the back of his 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 him the test that he was going to have to do the next day. That test consisted on taking some blood from y/n, so he'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 he could talk to was Bruce, and now he seemed to be gone. Nobody to talk to except himself. Completely abandoned like a failed experiment.

Y/n tried his 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 him. 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.

He 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, he was a monster for everything that he'd done. He'd rather die than spent the rest of his 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 his victims any longer. If he died, he'd finally be able to close his eyes without having a nightmare.

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

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

"Wakey wakey, y/n."