Where your loyalties lie (Two New Bartons book 2) (completed)

Monster - Wanda

It takes me about two seconds in my cell to realise that the collar is connected to my powers. I can't use them without experiencing pain worse than during HYDRA's experiments. The collar doesn't just shock and choke me, it seems to suck out my powers, leaving me drained and defeated and empty. 

Between everything that's happened and happening, I can barely get to my feet, so I don't try. I stay curled up in the corner, most of the time too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to do much of anything. 

Twice a day, a soldier will drag me off to the bathroom and when I get back, there'll be a tray of food. Otherwise, I don't move.

My powers aren't the only thing my collar's linked to. Whenever I try to move to get onto the bed, or get a glimpse of Clint, it activates. 

So no moving. No powers. No Clint. No escaping. Just me, this corner, this jacket, this collar. 

Every now and then, a soldier will come in and drag Sam out. Every time they come back, he looks a little worse for the wear, with new cuts and bruises on his face. Whenever one of the others brings it up during their yelled intra-cell discussions (which I never participate in), he changes the subject. All he'll tell us is they're looking for Cap and Barnes.

The day Stark comes in is worse than the others. Sam is gone for longer. Scott and Clint fall silent about twenty minutes after he leaves, then start talking quietly half an hour after that, their voices tight with worry. It doesn't take long for their voices to rise into shouts of threats against everyone else. 

And then Clint is shouting at me. "Find him! Find his thoughts or something!"

"I can't do that," I tell him, my voice croaky from disuse. It's a lie, but I really don't want to do what they want me to. I tried it once when Pietro and I were separated, and the resulting headache nearly caused me to pass out afterwards. The amount of thoughts I found before reaching his was unbearable.

"Try!" Scott yells. 

"Please!" Clint adds. 

So, lip trembling, I close my eyes and open my mind. Instantly, hundreds of voices fill my mind. I let out a gasp, but start sorting through them. I can only go about thirty seconds before I start swaying and hyperventilating. I snap my eyes open. "I can't," I sob. "I'm sorry. I tried, I tried, I'm sorry."

And they're back to yelling threats. No one pays any attention to the crying girl in the corner. 

Then the door opens and they fall silent as a soldier walks in, half dragging, half leading Sam into the room. Well, at least he's alive. 

When he's finally up to talking, all he'll say is, "They still haven't found them."

Ten minutes later, Stark turns up. He goes almost straight to Sam, and I can sense Sam's pain, but he doesn't say anything. I can also feel Stark's concern and desperation. On top of that is the hate and worry and anger rushing from Clint and Scott. 

All the emotions mix with my own exhaustion, and crushes my brain in a pounding headache. I can't think, can't work out which feelings are mine and which are second-hand. 

I try to reach out to Clint, to ask him for help, even though I know he can't do anything, but my mind won't cooperate. I try reaching out to Stark, to ask about Pietro, but still, my mind won't work. 

I'm useless. 

Powerless.

Weak. 

Broken.

Despite my best efforts, I can't keep a single tear from falling down my cheek. 

Ten minutes after Stark leaves, a green flash fills my cell, and there, standing in the corner, in the camera's blind spot, is a man with black hair and a green outfit.