All the Colors of Earth (Natasha Romanoff)

1.0

Part One- Marzda

Thump thump thump.

The vibrations of the guards footsteps danced lightly across my hands. Laying on the cool floor of my cell, palms down on the hard cement, it was easy to map out the intricate prison.

You'd be surprised at the things that made even the slightest of vibrations. From the shuffling of papers in the offices two floors above me, to the thumping footsteps of the guards who are constantly walking the halls. Even the flushing of the toilets from the other cells, as gross as that is, gave me a detailed view of the plumbing.

Over the past five years I had been listening and watching, searching for my way out. But much to my dismay and annoyance, there was none. The guards always traveled in twos, their paths crossing precisely every forty-five seconds at the hallway intersections. Bio-locks and scan cards at every reinforced door, not to mention the cameras every ten feet. Every inch of the place was covered. And that wasn't including the cells.

Made of a clear shatterproof glass, the eight by eight foot cube stood in a line of other cubes. Outfitted with a thin mattress on a shelf that was securely bolted into the wall, a small cubby with a toilet, a sink and a shower head sticking out of the ceiling. All the necessities that an incarcerated meta human could want. But I use the term human loosely.

I'm not human.

Something that the guards never let me forget. As if I could. The only reason I'm here and not in a normal prison is because I'm from another planet. Well that and I murdered a bunch of people. Supposedly.

But that's a story for another day.

Today, I was breaking out. I refused to be a prisoner any longer, and come what may, this would be my last day as one.

Thump thump thump

The guard was almost to my cell and I had to hide a smile in anticipation. A few more seconds and he was here.

"Prisoner 937 on your feet!" He barked at me.

I don't need to open my eyes to see him. His heavy breathing gives me a clear picture of him- a plump man with a face that was always covered in sweat and a long scar that ran down his cheek. It always brought a smile to my face since I'm the one that gave it to him. I ignored him again, hoping he'd come into the cell to get me up. But no such luck.

"Prisoner 937! You will not be told again, get to your feet!"

And again I ignored him.

Until the collar I was wearing started to beep. I was used to being shackled in one form or another, but this collar was something special. Tailored to each prisoner, it was designed to dampen powers and inflict the most pain it could given that persons weakness. And mine just so happened to be piercing noises higher then the human ear could perceive.

Keeping my eyes closed I slowly sit up, "what's the occasion Scar?" I had nicknamed him that for obvious reasons and only used it when I needed to rile him up.

As usual, it worked.

He gritted his teeth and hissed out, "you'll speak when spoken to Prisoner."

Getting to my feet I whined, "but Scar, I've missed you and our games." The games in question being where I get bored and rile up the guards so much that they come in and fight me. Hence how Scar got his, well, scar. The games had another reason though, one that thankfully they hadn't figured out. One that would be put to use today.