『 Electra Light is a trained assassin that has been subjected to experimentation since birth.
Hydra tortured and experimented on Electra before selling her off to SPECTRE, an unknown corporation with nefarious ambitions for the planet.
This proceed...
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"What the hell is going on?" I yanked my uninjured arm free from the agents' grasp as they stormed into my cell and grabbed me. "Let me go!" I fought back, but I was exhausted from the blood loss and the recent promethium-laced bullet that had wounded me.
"Hey!" Cobi slammed his fist against the glass as he witnessed me being hauled out of my cell. "Where are you taking her?!" He yelled.
"Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I shouted as they dragged me out of the dark room—by my injured arm—that contained Cobi and I's cells.
"Let me go!" I yelled as I tried to fight off the agents, who had a firm grip on both of my arms and had my wrists cuffed. "Watch your hand, asshole!" I shouted, feeling an agents hand on my lower back.
As I struggled to fight back and groaned numerous times—mostly because of the pain in my shoulder—I was dragged down a hall and passed by multiple agents along the way who were focused on their tasks.
I was dragged through a single door at the end of the hallway, which held a solitary glass cell inside the room. Inside the cell, there was a metal chair, as well as experimental and medical equipment like a heart monitor, IVs, tools, and four computer screens, two of which had moving green text all over the screen—like something a hacker would use—the third screen had some sort of x-ray screen camera thing, and the fourth screen had a picture of a brain that two men in lab coats were looking at and discussing.
Outside the glass cell, there were many more screens and agents in lab coats with clipboards roaming around the room, looking through all their collected data—it was as if they were determined to put together a puzzle that had a missing piece.
It made me feel uneasy as the whole scene felt too familiar in both ways I could and couldn't understand—like my brain was somehow hiding something from me. I just wanted to get out of this place; it wasn't giving me any good vibes, in fact, it was giving me the exact opposite. My brain felt like it was on the verge of pulling a kill switch.
The room—or, to be more accurate, the scene in front of my eyes—felt like immense deja vu.
I was roughly into the room and forced to sit on a metallic chair-bed with my stomach against the backrest and my back freely facing the lab coat-wearing agents.
My wrists were restrained around the backrest, my legs were restrained around the chair-legs, and my body—back and chest—were constrained around the chair—the constraints that belonged to the steel chair.
As I was forced into the chair, I groaned as I felt the cold metal and the pressure being applied to my body.
