Tortured Genius (A Marvel Fanfiction: Reader Insert)

Chapter 4: I Gave You My Number

Blood, sweat and tears is not an expression.

You sat, confined in your cell with not a sound, but stared at the blood that dripped off your knuckles. The sick smell of sweat also joined in the smell of the scarlet drops, and an angry tear hit the ground.

Only moments before you had been standing, rage pulsing through your veins.
An ice wall created by yours truly stood before you, daring you to make your move.

And you did.

You punched the ice, hearing the satisfying crack of the frozen water. Again and again you attacked it, with not a care in the world who was watching or who thought you were mental.

Not long after, the wall lay in pieces at your feet, broken beyond repair.

Like me, you thought. Broken, shattered. What a perfect description.

Your knuckles weren't the only part of you injured.
Your lips were cracked, your stitch had re-opened the wound above your eyebrows; your body in general was a bruised, raging mess.

Ice littered the floor, some had been shot at the walls during your restless sleep. Your clothes were in disarray, and your shoes were placed in the corner. The red laces were only a reminder of your betrayal, just like your hat which was in a frozen block of ice, because somehow, freezing things made you feel better.

Two months.
It'd been two months since John Garett had walked out, leaving you to ponder with every living breathing moment how to break him.

Now, revenge wasn't usually your style. You were insane, yeah, everyone knew it. But even after you had lost your parents eight years ago, even when you wanted to put on a show for the world, you hadn't wanted revenge.

Even now, you didn't want to get revenge.
Instead, it was Ian's words that echoed in your head.
"We're going to burn the heart, out of you, (your name). Just. You. Wait."

That was it. Exactly it.
They wanted to burn you. Break you to the point where joining them was your only option. They wanted to prove that they could smash even the masterminds, the special, the broken.

And that was their problem.
Clearly, they hadn't done enough homework.
Why?
Because, of course: you were going to get to them first.

You'd resolved only days after being shut inside the Fridge that Garett was going to hear your broken insane voice, no matter how far he ran. No matter who he had on his side, you were going to twist his mind until there was nothing left.

Quietly, the rage inside began to build again. Standing to your bare feet, your fingers twitched. You blinked and finally let out the roar you'd been holding back for two whole months.

"I AM ICE. YOU WILL FEEL MY WRATH!"

Right when you thought you couldn't have been more clear, something caught your eye. And whatever it was, it was small.

"Easily breakable." You seethed, not in the mood for some random speck of dust to interrupt your rant. "Easily destroyed by a snap of my fingers."

Turning, you snatched the item of of the air and surprise flickered through your being. "Paper?" Smoothing out the surface, you spotted numbers scrawled into the yellow page. Latitudes? Longitudes? Coordinates?

Odd.
It wasn't any of those.
It was a series of numbers.
Someone's phone number.
Someone was sending a message.

Who would give you their phone number? Why would they trust you, of all people? Then again, you were probably more trustworthy than half the criminals here. And how did they send you the paper?