All he could see was dark.
The room felt cold, metallic even. It had a strange tinge to it, like something would come any moment and shoot him in the head. It left a bad taste in his mouth. A rag covered his eyes, scratchy and woolen, and his hands were bound in zip ties. They were extremely uncomfortable, the plastic biting into his wrists.
He shifted. His ribs stuck him in the gut. At least two had been broken in the struggle to get him there. The agent who had shot his chest had hit exactly on target; just a smidge under between the heart and the lung. That hurt too. Everything hurt. Even breathing hurt, the pressure on his lungs increasing with every inhale he took.
Do it for him.
A door slammed open and in walked a pair of heels, snapping across the concrete floor. He felt his leg bounce up and down, a nervous twitch that came with the job. The female was close, and he could sense her. Perfume radiated from her tall figure, bouncy brown curls enveloping her head, with about eight pounds of hairspray to boot. He coughed.
"How's it feel? To be taken out so easily, like you were nothing?" she drawled, pressing her foot down hard on his crotch, her mouth inches from his. "Shot out of the sky, like a baby bird?"
"It sucks," he spit, causing her to step away. He tried to ignore the new pain that was slowly emerging from his groin. "Why are you doing this?"
"The boy is of great importance to us. His sister? Waste of time. But the brother... He is of real asset. Isn't he your lover?"
"Not anymore," he snapped, a facade of annoyance and determination settling on his face. "Can't have that in this line of work."
Lies.
"That's fair," the lady smiled, dazzling white teeth shining under the one fluorescent bulb that lit the 20 foot space. "You'd take me, though?"
"Depends," he smirked. "Are you willing to let your guard down enough?"
"I like your attitude," she whispered, suddenly right by his ear. She traced a long fingernail against the side of his cheek. "What a sad old man you are," she frowned. "Beaten and weary and oh so confused. You just want answers. You just want safety for him. But you failed in getting it. A miracle you're still alive. But you're more useful to us breathing than not. I don't know why we didn't recruit you before S.H.I.E.L.D. did."
The man in the chair suddenly kissed her, making her snap out of her rude streak and drop her guard for a split second. He knew it. She had a weakness.
That weakness was him.
"Trust me yet?" he muttered, voice smooth and sultry. If he imagined she was Pietro, it wasn't too hard, especially with the blindfold. He tried to pretend he couldn't feel the lipstick smudges on his stubble.
"Maybe, maybe not," she exclaimed, her vicious exterior immediately snapping back into place.
"What day is it?"
"It's the 8th of December," she said, acting oblivious to why he wanted to know. She knew exactly why.
One week.
One week of his boyfriend not knowing. One week of his boyfriend dying on his own. One week of completely shattering his well being.
One week.
"You'll be back in time for Christmas, sweetie," she grinned, slipping a laugh through her teeth. "You'll see him soon enough."
She left, her heels clicking away, the metal bolts setting into place when she shut the door.
