Layla

Chapter Twenty-Four: Welcome To H.EL.L.

Location unknown

It was only three weeks, but it felt like an eternity. 

She fought. 

She really had.

She kicked and screamed at the guards who came in every morning forcibly dragging her out of her cell. 

But no matter how hard she tried, every fight ended the same. 

She was chained to a cold, cement wall with her wrists bound tightly above her head, and her feet shackled. But being chained hadn't stopped her. She yanked at the restraints that were tightly bound to her wrists till they had become sore and raw. Her screams of protest filled her torture chamber, until one of the guards got tired of hearing her and slapped her so hard across the face that she had gone unconscious. In a way, she was relieved because she had woken to see she was back inside her cell. She had remained there for the rest of the day. The downside was that she had a bloodied lip that had been split down the middle, and bruised wrists from her rigorous tugging at the restraints.

She had lowered her head in misery; her dark hair shielded her face like a curtain. Warm tears spilled down her cheeks while she hugged herself tightly. She didn't care that she was in the middle of the room for all to see. If she had been stronger she would have remained stoic, ready to put up a fight, but the weeks were wearing on her. She could feel her shields begin to crumble and she was growing numb. She was becoming hopeless. Every day she waited for Charles and the others to come and get her, but she was left with disappointment. Disappointment and an empty ache in her chest that left her screaming and crying on the inside. She tried to remind herself to be better and keep holding on, but it was difficult. Since she arrived, every morning she was taken to Stryker's torture chamber where he performed horrific experiments on her. He was testing her, as well, to see how much she could actually handle. She would never tell him she came back from the dead. If he found out, she was afraid of what he would come up with next. Her sore body had cringed at the thought. 

She cried herself to sleep that night due to pure exhaustion, and because she realized that no matter how hard she fought it would get her nowhere. No one was coming to get her either. Not because they didn't care, but because they couldn't locate her. She didn't even know where she was. She had missed Peter terribly. She had wished they hadn't gotten into a fight, but how was she too know she'd be Stryker's prisoner. Layla hadn't and still couldn't understand why he wanted her, and why he was doing this to her. She had never meet him expect for the photo she saw of him back at the Pentagon when her father took her to work that one time. That had been her only encounter, until she physically saw him when he captured everyone last year. None of this had made sense to her, and every time she asked he never answered. He only smirked and laughed it off. Hell, even Xander didn't know why he wanted her. 

Xander. 

Every day she woke up in this cursed facility, she thought of him. She was angry with him. Then there was a part of her that felt sympathetic towards him, and her heart sunk as she remembered him getting shot. She had mixed feelings about him. One thing she couldn't understand was why he didn't ask for help. Or why he had given her to Stryker in the first place. Ironic, really. He traded one mutant for another to a man who wasn't fond of mutants.

______________

Layla pulled herself back to the present, ceasing all past thoughts. Ever so slowly, she lifted her  aching head, eyeing each of the soldiers who stood guard. Half of them eyed her as if she would pull a vanishing act, while the others stared at the wall behind her. They all carried stoic faces as they waited for their "commander" to arrive. How she wished she could throw every one of these assholes against the cement wall, crushing their bones. Or watch as she tortures them while they remain helplessly chained against the wall. Vivid, dark images plagued Layla's mind but she didn't care. If she ever made it out of here alive and retained her powers again, she would make them all suffer. Seeing her dark turn, Layla quickly snapped out of her daze, coming back to reality. In the midst of her anger, she hadn't even heard Stryker approach and she startled when she saw him standing in front of her. 

He lingered there for a while, gazing at her intently like she was an insect under a microscope. She felt squeamish, but there was no place for her to move. She kept her fiery eyes on him with her eyebrows drawn low. He smirked amused by her expression. A wicked laugh escaped his lips, and it only pissed her off more.

"Comfortable?" Stryker's wicked voice asked as he took a step closer, keeping his arms folded behind his back.

"Fuck you!" Layla spat.

Stryker chuckled, and began circling her like she was his prey. She eyed him with malice, and amusement still danced across his eyes. For Stryker it was a game. A fascinating game or a surprise box. He never knew what he was going to get when he came to see Layla. He loved when she looked like all was lost. Like, her world was shattering beneath her feet. Those were the days he favored more. He took pleasure in seeing that broken, hopeless look in her eyes. 

"There's something new I'm going to try." Stryker began as he made his way back in front of Layla. 

"Aren't I lucky?" Layla hissed. 

"You amuse me, you know that?" 

"Great, now how about you amuse me and tell me what the fuck I'm doing here! I don't even know you! We've never crossed paths till last year!" 

A cruel and calculated smile danced across Stryker's features. His dark eyes narrowed into thin, mischievous slits. "Are you sure?" He tested. 

Layla was taken aback by his question. They truly had never crossed paths till last year, but he eyed her like she had forgotten an important piece of information. Yes, she had seen his photo at the Pentagon, but they never met. She would have remembered. 

Regaining her composure she said, "Positive. I'd remember an asshole like you."

"Hmm...you know you are just like your father. Your mother not so much, well maybe the looks, but you acquired that annoying hard headedness. The only difference is your not as quick as he was. Although given past events," He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment.  

Layla stilled. Her heart seemed to stopped in her chest, and she had forgotten how to breath. Images of the day she went to D.C. with her father flashed across her eyes. 

"Who's that?" Layla asked in a low voice.

Her dad was quiet, and it seemed liked minutes ticked by before he spoke. "That," He said trying to sound calm. "Is William Stryker. Right now, he is currently in Saigon working on a project."

Stryker saw the recognition flicker across her eyes. He had been right. She had seen him before, just not in person until recently. He remembered the look she carried on her face when she saw him back at his previous base. She looked at him with a haunting recognition. As soon as he found out who she was, it all made sense.

Layla couldn't find the words to speak. So, Stryker spoke for her. 

"You want to know why you're here, Layla?" Stryker began as he slowly made his way over to her. His thick black boots, beating softly against the concrete floor. 

"Why?" Layla asked shakily, finally finding her voice again.

"Well, it's a long story, but let me begin by saying this," Stryker began with a cynical smile plastered across his face. 

That smile sent chills down her spine, and her stomach twisted in nervous knots. Her heart beat frantically in anticipation and nervousness. Layla watched Stryker with careful eyes as he came closer to her till they were mere inches apart. There was an evil look to his eyes that he was taking great pride and amusement in. She tried to keep her fiery glare at him, but it kept faltering. The whole room seemed to be just as still and silent as she, waiting in anticipation at Stryker's next words.

"Let me begin by saying, I sent to have your parents killed back in 1970."