Italia slid the glass panel behind her, the screams of Piotro becoming muffled almost. She ran her hand through her brown curls that were starting to grey. After she had finished straightening her hair out she wandered over to the other woman in the room. The woman wore a lab coat with titled glasses, her hair pulled up in a lazy bun. She was stood over a computer and would only look away from it to glance at the screaming subject behind the glass, ignoring the muffled cries for it to stop.
"How long does he have left until he completes the program?" Italia asked, her eyes burning into the woman.
"I don't know," the woman replied murmured, clearly distracted with whatever she was doing on the computer.
"Scusa," Italia said more impatiently.
"I said I don't know," the woman snapped, giving Italia a very dirty look with eyes that were practically sending daggers into Italia.
"You might want to think about how you talk to me, idiota," Italia gritted through her teeth. She felt her new impulses trying to take control again, but she fought back at them, not wanting another incident. She had already been warned, both verbally and psychically, and she didn't want to be caged away like some of the other subjects.
"What's the problem? Piotro was said to be the best subject yet," Italia then asked. She could still feel the biting violent needs kicking around her system, but she refrained from them.
"Sì, he was but now he's resisting it all," the woman answered as she tapped away at the computer, glancing up another two times at Piotro.
"How is that possible?" Italia asked, trying to get a glimpse of what the woman was doing on the computer, not that any of it made any sense to her. When Italia underwent the program herself, there was basically no way to fight it. And Piotro fighting it could only mean one thing – there was someone he was fighting it for. Someone that would need to be taken care off.
"That's what I'm trying to figure out," the woman said, her voice went soft and quiet.
"Well, fix it," Italia ordered. She looked over to Piotro, the agony across his face didn't faze her in the slightest. The only thing she could think about was hurrying along the process.
"I don't answer to you," the woman said, her voice laced contempt. She gave Italia a viciously cold glare through the square glasses that rested on her youthful face.
On a whim, Italia grasped her ferociously by the throat, lifting her from where she was. Her fingers tightened around her throat and Italia could see the panic and fear that washed into her pupils, spreading onto her face.
"You know what I can do," Italia said through her teeth as she leaned into the woman in her lethal grip. The woman tried to free herself, but it did nothing.
"Are you sorry?" Italia asked. The woman shook her head frantically as a loose tear cascaded down her cheek and passed her trembling lips.
Italia let out a breath before a smile grew on her face. She lowered the woman back onto the floor and pulled away from her throat. The woman gasped and coughed, clutching her throat with her palm.
"Would Piotro survive if we increased the dosage?" Italia asked.
The woman took a few seconds to register the question, the pain pounding in her throat was starting to cause an agonising headache. She shook her head and looked up to Italia with watery eyes. "Yes, he would."
Italia smacked her lips together and nodded, a smirk curling up on the corner of her lips. "Good."
And within a split second, Italia grabbed the woman by her throat once again and snapped her neck. She let her drop to the floor with a heavy thud and looked over at Piotro. The screaming had calmed down slightly, but the pain was still ever present on his face. Italia stepped over the dead scientist and scanned over the computer. She clicked on the tab to check Piotro's vitals and saw the capacity of the experimentation.
"It won't be long now, Piotro," Italia said to herself as she turned the capacity to it's peak. The muffled screams only grew louder and more blood-curdling as Piotro began to shudder and thrash about the bed he was strapped to. Sparks of electricity leaked out from the machines he was hooked up to and Italia smiled to herself before turning for the door and slipping out of the cell.
As she closed the door behind her, she saw guards running back and forth, some of them barking orders while others talked frantically into their radios. The few scientists Italia could see in the corridor had all backed into the walls, all of them looking nervous and intrigued.
Italia spied out Orabella during the chaos and began making her over to the other woman. She could see the glimpses of worry across Orabella's face and Italia took that as a bad sign.
"What is going on?" Italia asked when she was near enough for Orabella to hear. She tried with all her might to disguise the fact that she had acted on her newly developed impulses, not wanting to get caught again.
"Not now, Italia," Orabella said, brushing past her. Orabella suddenly felt a firm grip wrap around her wrist, yanking her back. She spun around and saw Italia with a serious look upon her face. "Let go—"
"Tell me what's going on," Italia said, squeezing Orabella's wrist harder.
Orabella winced at the pain but didn't bother trying to free herself. She knew exactly what Italia was capable of. After all, she's the one who made her that way. "There was a breach – two people were caught in the facility, but they've escaped, thanks to a getaway driver."
Orabella knew she'd regret telling Italia that, but if she had lied, there would only be more lives lost, including her own. She saw a scary glint flicker in Italia's eyes and Orabella could tell the woman in front of her had already figured out just who the two people were.
"Do you have a lead where she is?" Italia asked, her voice growing more sinister as a devilish smile curled up on her lips.
"I have men out looking for them," Orabella replied, taking the moment to free her wrist from Italia's hurtful grip. The pain was still present in her arm and it almost hurt to move her wrist at all.
"I could find them in twenty minutes," Italia stated. Her tone had an edge to it that made Orabella understand that it wasn't so much of a suggestion.
"No," Orabella said firmly. "You already saw her, and she saw you. You've put this program at risk once before, you're not doing it again."
"Mia isn't your daughter, Bella. She's mine," Italia said. "And she's clearly becoming a problem, so let me handle her."
"You were barely her mother," Orabella spat out, "you were awful to her."
Italia scoffed, glaring at Orabella with harsh eyes. "And you think you're Gesù Cristo himself? Are you forgetting what you've been doing down here all these years?"
"I'm doing this for the greater good," Orabella said, voice almost breaking.
"Non mi interessa!" Italia shouted, taking a step closer to Orabella yet Orabella held her ground, not wanting to show anymore fear. "Don't act like you're better than me. You've killed people to get what you want. You've done crudele things to many people."
In a split second, Orabella took her palm across Italia's face. Italia was taken back by the sudden attack, her cheek stinging almost instantly. She could feel her eyes welling up as the pain only worsened, spreading across her face.
"After everything I've done for you," Orabella said viciously, "this is how you repay me? I never should have brought you into this project. If you're not careful, it'll be you that will get taken out."
Italia clutched her cheek and glared at Orabella, red flashes of rage and fury flooding into her eyes. "By who? That red-headed Russo you took in?" Italia then scoffed, dropping her hand. "She was trained to uccidere. She'll kill anyone. And so was I."
Italia went for Orabella but a hand landed on her chest, shoving her back a few steps. Italia stumbled, almost losing her footing on the linoleum tiles. She looked over to the person that had got involved and saw the exact same red-head she had just mentioned. She curled up her knuckles and clenched them, the sounds of bones cracking echoing into the almost empty corridor, most of the guards and scientists having disappeared elsewhere.
"Ombra Cremisi," Italia said, staring at the woman before her. She returned Italia's harsh glare, only her eyes seemed more lifeless than Italia's; they shimmered a dark shade of crimson. She wore a coal-black outfit that Italia couldn't make out due to its intense darkness. "You really want to do this?"
The woman shifted her balanced from one foot to the other, not giving Italia a response, the cold icy stare making it clear what the Russian wanted. Uncurling her fist, Italia swiftly lifted her leg before delivering a harsh blow to the Russian's chest, sending her back a few feet. Orabella flinched at the attack and backed up to the opposite wall, her eyes not leaving where the Crimson Shadow was steadying herself.
The Russian looked up at Italia and bulleted across the corridor, quickly dodging the fist that Italia swung at her. She swung her knee up into Italia's stomach before landing a dig into the side of her face. Before Italia could even acknowledge the horrendous amount of pain bursting through her body, she felt the Crimson Shadow's fingers grasp around her neck and the next thing she knew, she was picked up and pummelled into the concrete, knocking her unconscious in an instant. Her body went limp as the sounds of the tiles cracking simmered down, the small dust cloud began to thin out into the air.
Orabella stood up and brushed herself down. She walked over to Italia and gazed down upon her.
"So, you are the strongest potential," Orabella said, her eyes glancing over to the other woman.
The Russian nodded, the deadly, venomous desire to kill still coursing through her veins.
"Then you'll be leading the others," Orabella said. "There isn't much time left, so get yourself ready. Those mostri are back and I want justice brought down on them."
She nodded again and then moved past Orabella, grabbing Italia by the shoulders and dragged her off, loose pieces of concrete leaving a trail behind them. Orabella sighed heavily, leaning against the cool wall. The horrific, vivid memories were growing more intense. She could hear the muffled cries of the other children while the cynical laughs of those in power bounced around them, taunting them, taunting her, even after she had managed to escape. It made her angry and determined to do what the law never could – bring the men to justice. And it was now she was starting to see that she was willing to do that, no matter what the cost.