The Hellhound- Wanda Maximoff

Chapter 2

Third POV

Once Cassius managed to open his groggy eyes, he wished that he hasn't. He hissed when he felt pain hitting his shoulder as he was lying down on the mattress on the floor. Blinking multiple times to clear his vision, memories of what happened hit him full course.

Ignoring the pain as the adrenaline numbed it out, Cassius jumped on his feet. There was many things that he noticed as he took in his surroundings. First thing, was that he does not have his bag with him. In fact, he only had the clothes on his back and nothing else.

Second, was that he was locked in what looks like a cell. There was bars in front of him, with bulletproof glass on the other side. The walls were made out of tiles while the floors were made out of cement. The only thing in his room was a lump of mattress on the floor and toilet and sink in the corner of the room. There was a rectangular window, but that too was also covered in bars and bulletproof glass.

Cassius soon began to panic when he realized he was locked up in a cell. Whipping his head around, he desperately tried to find an escape route, finding nothing. A hand still placed over his wounded shoulder, he carefully pulled down his jacket and shirt. Exposing the white bandage, his face scrunched up in pain as he slowly peeled off the medical tape. Grunting in discomfort, his head got a bit woozy when he took notice of the sloppy work of the stitches. What use to be a quarter-size bullet wound, now contained his skin tightly pulled together and stretching, tied messily with stitches. There was even skin overlapping skin, dried blood caking the wound.

He shivered, hastily covering the wound up with the bandage. Pulling on his clothes, he furiously wiped the unshed tears forming in his eyes with the back of his hand as he tugged on his hair. Eyes wide and alert, he used his uninjured arm to toss the mattress across the cell. Nothing. Patting the tiled wall, he frantically tried to find something, anything to either give him a clue to tell him where he is at. Nails scraping against the metal, he gave out a frustrating scream as all he did was scrape a couple layers of skin from his fingers. Slapping the palm of his hand against the wall, he brushed his curly hair from his sweaty forehead. Body tensing in rage, Cassius sprinted towards the bars, gripping it tightly with his hands. He began to shake violently, harshly tugging on the bars as if that would be able to set him free. He was tired, his body was sore, and he was hungry, which was not a good combination at all.

"Hey! Hey!" Cassius shouted in rage and panic. "Let me out! Let me out!"

Breathing heavily through gritted teeth, his hands started to heat up, steam rising into the air. The smell of burning metal hit Cassius in the nose as the bars started to turn a bright red. Right when he was about to pull apart the bars with his bare hands, he quickly stopped his actions when he heard the door opening.

Soon, a man appeared in front of Cassius cell, following behind him was a couple of guards gripping tightly to some rifles. The man was bald, about middle age. His face was worn out, having scars here and there. He was wearing a black turtleneck, with a black trench coat, and black tactical pants. He had this odd, tech looking monocle covering one eye.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Cassius quickly questioned him. "What is going on?!"

The man had the nerve to laugh, making Cassius even more furious than he was before.

"Cassius Keen," monocle dude stepped forward, with an accent that Cassius didn't care to know about. "You sure are a difficult child to find."

"H-How do you know my name?" Cassius voice shook, much to his frustration as he leaned his head back.

Dread filled him straight to his bones and he could feel his heart racing in fear. He didn't know where he was at or what was going on.

"How rude of me?" The man placed a hand over his heart, feigning an apologetic look. "I did not introduce myself. I am Baron, Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker."