Tortured Genius (A Marvel Fanfiction: Reader Insert)

Chapter 2: Show Stoppin' Number

Monster.

Suddenly a hand yanked at your collar, jerking you upright. Your ears rang, your vision blurred and your chest felt heavy with a weight you'd never experienced. When the attacker whispered in your face, their breath washing over your features, you only heard some of it but grasped enough.

"You're insane...." They muttered. "And I've heard you're changeable....You've snapped...." They paused, breathing directly in your face; probably to intimidate you. "But what can...you...tell...me...for sure? Tell...me...one thing...that you know."

With their face in yours you saw why you couldn't recognize them; a mask. Their face right in front of you, you memorized the shape: squarish. At least, then, it wasn't Coulson.

"Changeable." You agreed, your own voice a broken whisper as the world spun in shattered pieces. "Insane." Then you really did snap. Your closed eyes fluttered open and the world stopped spinning. Everything hit you like a truck, or a solid object, one that was knocking the wind of out your lungs. Gripping the person's wrist you spread the ice like a wild fire, as it burned into their skin and they fumbled backwards while you finished. "AND I AM ICE."

Laughter began. They broke the ice that encased their arm and advanced on you, hissing like a snake, a growl rising up while they grinned mechanically; eyes burning into your soul with passion and hate.

"That's what I wanted to hear." They laughed, both fists blasting at your face.

You hit the ground, dazed and losing consciousness quickly. Their face. You must remember their face.

They bent down when you slumped to the floor and patted you on the back. "You aren't the only one changeable." They smiled again through their whisper and continued.

"Well. So nice to have had a proper chat." They said, snatching your fallen hat and pushed you further to the ground, their shoes filling eyesight as it cracked on your skull.

"Ciao, (your name)."

***
[Through the eyes of Fitz]

Fitz wandered into the briefing room, yawning. What a restless night. Twice he'd gotten up, thinking he had heard a yell or a thump, but it was nothing.

Turning on the holo table, and the video cam to the cell he frowned as he noticed a figure slumped in the corner. They were trashed, beat up and blood covered their face.

"(Your name)....?" He muttered, and then became frantic.

"Oh my god, Simmons!" He yelled, glancing at the monitor once more before running down the hall. "SIMMONS!"

***

Darkness.
Would it envelop you?
Only time could tell.

It felt like you were floating, drifting. Through space, maybe in zero gravity.
You hadn't a care in the world.
Maybe you were dead. And maybe that was for the best.

Who'd attacked you?
Why?
Why did they want to hear you admit your stability?

Pain. Spreading through your ribs, your nose.
Ears, face and neck.
Everywhere.

Your thoughts were nothing but jumbled trash.
Your brain nothing but jelly.
Your very existence fleeting.

Shouts echoed in you head and your dream self blinked. "What-"

"(Your name)!"

"Wake up!"

Wake up.

Could you wake up?