"ARE YOU PLANNING TO TORTURE ME, CAIN?"
Peter taunted, his voice dull and bored. The question hung in the air depressingly while he allowed his eyes to trail around the room and over the lab equipment that was strewn about haphazardly. An impassive expression was plastered across Peter's face.
Meticulously, he noted everything and stored the information away for later use.
His assessing gaze landed back on the door as he waited impatiently for Cain to arrive while he sifted through what he knew about the man. He clearly wasn't a scientist by any means; he was all bravado, intimidation and arrogance which meant that would either save or doom Peter in the following hours that he was sure to be in that room. The man's lack of extensive knowledge about the potential use of the medical instruments could mean that he would steer clear of them, or use them anyway even if it was incorrect and Cain would do whatever he wanted with whatever tool was closest at hand.
Peter's thoughts drifted to the torture looming in his near future.
Having been tortured before- and having been the torturer himself- he knew what happened next paired with the simple fact that he was not going to enjoy a moment of it. Though a comforting thought that kept sneaking its way to the forefront of Peter's mind was that he'd survived worse; he'd lived through Helen and her experiments, even if it had come at the cost of his hearing.
"I was expecting more flair from someone so dramatic." Peter scoffed again.
When he could hear incoming footsteps, his head lolled to the side so he could watch said man step into the room. Drawn by the glaring colour, Peter's eyes latched onto the tissue that Cain had pressed firmly against his nose- the growing red stain soaking into the material.
A sick satisfaction welled in the teenager's chest before it diminished as a realisation settled in where his pleasure had resided instead. Clint had angered Cain.
The man's gaze hardly strayed to Peter as he moved around the room, face contorted into rage.
"Someone take a swing at you?" He goaded, feigning innocence.
Cain growled in response but remained otherwise silent as he stalked around the room. Peter's mind raced a mile a minute as his mouth clamped shut; he had wanted to be the main source of anger for the man- to have all of his rage directed at him and him alone as a way to force Clint to be a thought in the back of his mind instead of the brunt of his frustration. Anything could happen to the archer if Peter wasn't there to stop it; his skin crawled at the idea of Clint in his place.
"Hope they didn't break anything, wouldn't want to damage that perfect face of yours." Peter added, cringing internally at the lack of reaction bar a calm order that got Peter's hackles up.
"Strap him in." The words rang out as the guards diligently moved the teenager.
The spider sense flared when Peter staggered forward a few feet, courtesy of the abrupt jolt to his upper arms. He grimaced at the pounding in his head from his sense screeching; he was being guided towards the menacing metal chair that had sat, bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. With little resistance, Peter was seated despite the primal urge clawing its way through him to launch himself at the nearest agent. His heart rate spiked when the restraints made an audible click when they snapped into place; morbidly curious, Peter experimentally tugged at them and felt his heart sink further into his toes when they didn't move an inch. He studied the walls with an accusatory look before his gaze rested back on Cain who flashed a toothy grin.
"Power dampening walls." He commented, smug and self-satisfied at Peter's mounting panic.
Then he leaned over the teenager- he didn't have a chance to spit out a comment when a mouthguard was forced into place the moment that Peter opened his mouth. "Don't want you losing those pearly whites, do we? Have to maintain that pretty face of yours." Cain snarled through a smile, faking sincerity as he spat Peter's words back at him.
Peter scowled as he watched the man move back to a control panel to his right.
"I presume you remember your time at Hydra." Cain began conversationally, pressing a few buttons that Peter couldn't see from his angle; he fidgeted anxiously and forced himself to breathe deeply through his nose to stave off a panic attack. I can do this- for Clint.
"Well between all of the training and the assignments, you were going to be our next Winter Soldier. Obedient, ruthless, efficient." Cain sounded wistful as he described the idea. Peter felt sick to his stomach as his fingers curled into tight, shaking fists. "We developed a base program, if you will, and put it into that curly head of yours." He glanced at Peter who had a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "It was going to be activated after you returned from the mission you ran away from."
Cain tsked and frowned. "That was a setback, I'll admit. But now? Now it is time. No more running from what you were made to be Peter." Fear unfurled in Peter's chest as he shifted helplessly.
A head piece was lowered down and wasn't swayed by his frantic thrashing as the metal plating connected to Peter's skin- it felt ice cold. Then Peter heard rather than saw, a lever being pulled by Cain at the console. There were a few beats of nothing before an agonizing, fiery pain flooded through every nerve ending that Peter possessed; he gasped from the sudden, familiar feeling- his mind was catapulted back to the first experiment that Helen had conducted that had left Peter with a burn running down his neck. A new round of terror washed through him.
His spider sense muffled, too deafening to be distinguished while his muscles spasmed uncontrollably on the chair; his fingers dug deep into the armrests, clawing and scratching feverishly.
It was as if agony was claiming his body for itself.
Every logical thought was drowned out and burned to ashes as he writhed against the chair, his screams being cut off by the rubber mouthguard- they came out as strained gargles that left spit drooling down his chin as he bit down impulsively.
No one spoke while they watched Peter's mind come undone.
It was as though long, sharp pins were creeping along his spinal cord, digging deep into they were buried into the bone before they moved on to pierce his skull. Then it buried itself beneath the bone to stab at his brain; even each, single heartbeat sent a surge of agony shooting through him that ebbed into the corner of Peter's mind, tainting his thoughts and memories. His head felt as though it was being torn apart from the inside out and stuffed full of cotton while all he could do was struggle feebly against the restraints- red hot tears sprung from Peter's eyes unknowingly.
Cain watched on, finding gratification in seeing the teen's movements weaken and his fingers twitch every so often. The sound of the boy's cries like music to his ears.
A/N
Peter taunting his captor gives me life!! We are so close to the end, hehe.
Anywho! Let me know of any spelling mistakes! xoxo.