Miss Romanoff-Barton

Ready to comply

Severe Violence Warning guys. This gets slighly fucked up. 

Alexa's POV

The world sways gently around me as I slowly am drawn out of a peaceful darkness.

Why is it so damn cold?

The sharp clicking of footsteps on stone makes me panic.

God, why can't I see?

Little by little, my vision clears and I try to take stock of where I am.

I'm hanging, because my feet are not touching the floor. I shift my left hand sideways and the icy smooth of metal shackles meet my fingertips.

Cool, so I'm not in friendly company.

My vision sharpens and I can finally take in my surroundings.

I was right. I'm hanging an inch or two above the floor, shackles around my wrist attaching to chains ascending into the ceiling.

I strain, pointing my toes, and can just barely brush the floor.

A shiver wracks through me and I take more notice of my physical state.

No injuries. That's concerning.

I'm wearing next to nothing, just my underwear and a strapless bra. My captors must have removed my dress.

That's more than a little unsettling.

A cough to my left makes me jump.

"Good afternoon, Miss Romanoff-Barton."

Ivanov. Of course.

"Ivanov" I reply as calmly as one can when hanging from shackles.

He smiles in a way that makes my skin crawl.

"Brave, are we? Yes, I'm sure your parents taught you all about that particular quality"

Bastard.

"You know nothing about me or my parents"

He cocks his head to the side in a false pondering expression.

"No? You, Alexandra chiaro Romanoff-Barton. Born Friday May 17 in Grady Memorial Hospital? I know all about you my dear."

What?

He seems to read my mind.

"Oh yes. You see I – well, we really – have been watching you darling. And now that you went and got all trained up for us? Perfection. Now, all you need to do is submit."

What on earth is this douchebag talking about?

I decide to speak the truth.

"I have no idea what you're on about but I'm sure as hell not submitting to you."

"You'll change your mind." He notes with a causally confident air as he crosses to a metal table

Oh god, here we go.

He pulls a red-hot branding iron off the table and holds it close to my face.

"Coming around yet?"

My silence tells him enough.

Before I can blink, he whips his hand down and presses the metal into my calf.

The pain sears across my side - hotter than the fires of hell – as a wretched scream claws its way up my throat.

His cold laugh mingles with my echoing screams, creating an inhuman symphony.

He pulls the iron away and I nearly sob.

Blistering red and charred into my leg, is the symbol of hydra.

Ivanov leans impossibly closer, almost nose-to-nose with me.

"Are you ready to comply?"

"NO"

He shakes his head with a sigh.

"I hoped this would be easier Alexandra. You really are making this more difficult for yourself."

He walks away as I go to speak, and pulls one of my guns from the crumpled folds of my dress.

I know for a fact, that gun is fully loaded. 15 bullets. One of which is probably going to end up in my brain.

He fires 12 shots into the air around me and I almost grin. I didn't flinch once.

He readjusts slightly before firing again.

One shot in my shoulder.

One shot in my hip.

One shot in my knee.

I grit my teeth with each hit. My body wrenches backwards with each shot.

Don't scream.

The gun drops from his hand with a clatter and I watch my injuries carefully.

Too much blood flow means an artery. An artery means blood loss and a really slow death.

As predicted, the bullet holes begin to bleed, coating my limbs in a sticky red. But the blood isn't rapid. I'm alive for a little while longer.

He walks up to me slowly again and runs a hand up my arm.

Why on earth is this man so creepy?

His feather light touch travels the length of my arm. He puts his thumb in the wound there, I freeze. He twists.

I howl at the pain in my shoulder and he cackles cruelly.

"Ready to submit now?"

"Do your worst"

The blood coating my limbs begins to pool at my feet.

He rolls his eyes.

"Now we need more people, I hope you're aware of just how difficult your being"

He turns his back again and I let the pain that is beating at the back of my skull, swallow me whole.

If he leaves me alone. I can get out of here. I will get out of here before he breaks me.

A single sharp whistle note cuts through the sludge in my brain and I watch through hazy eyes as 10 or 15 men enter from somewhere. Carrying hand held weapons; knives, whips, belts, machetes.

I feel their eyes pierce my skin as I wait for the onslaught to begin.