❝They're a ghost story, you'll never find them.❞
IN WHICH A GHOST STORY OF A SUPER VILLAIN BECOMES AN AVENGER'S REALITY
BOOKS ONE, TWO AND THREE
[CAPTAIN AMERICA:THE WINTER SOLDIER , AVENGERS: AGE OF ULTRON , CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIV...
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VIOLET WASN'T ALWAYS DRAWN TO THE TORTURED'S SCREAMS. In fact, she always distanced herself from the noise. She had no business sticking her nose in her superior's work. Besides, they always happened past her curfew. She was, technically, supposed to be in bed now. But she managed to pick the lock to her cell and decided to explore her new home- they had transferred her here a week ago.
Violet shuddered as another scream rang throughout the building. Sneaking past two guards, she found herself in a large concrete room with large tanks lining the perimeter. Sliding in behind one, she saw a brown haired man strapped to a chair, a large contraption looming over him.
"Seventeen." A man in a camouflage jacket said, holding a red book. She did not know this man or any of the men surrounding him, all of which were carrying heavy guns. The brown haired victim wailed again. At the suddenness of his cry, Violet jumped back in surprise, her head colliding with the wall, the sound echoing throughout the room. A few men twisted their bodies and aimed their guns towards the source of the sound. Violet flushed red, fearing that she had been caught. But nobody shot at her; in fact, nobody knew she was there. From where she could once see her reflection and purple veins in the glass of the tank, she could now see nothing. The book man continued with his nonsensical words, and Violet vowed never to sneak out or enter this room again.
2001
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"AGAIN." Mistress shouted for the third time.
Violet sighed. Straightening up, her right arm reached out and she gently gripped the wooden bar. She shifted her feet so they were in a perfect one-eighty-degree line, then she rolled her shoulders back and sucked in a breath.
