cryptid
/cryp·tid/
noun
an animal that has been claimed to exist but never proven to exist
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The investigation of cryptid creatures from the general public sparked interest within SHIELD's Enh...
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"Death is but a step towards new life."
Siberia December, 1991
VAY turned on her heel and dragged her serrated wing across the torso of the agent in front of her. He let out a cry of pain, grasping onto her limb with a tight grip. Vay cringed at the feeling but did not let herself be hindered. Her pain tolerance had increased since the last time they put her in the cryostasis chamber. Her heart hammered against her chest as she spun, swinging her other wings towards the agent. This time, however, it was a mere distraction as she kicked him in the chest, sending him across the mat.
He stumbled, losing his grip on her before hitting the ground behind him as he clutched his bleeding torso.
Ouch.
Vay stood straight, folding her wings behind her. She shook the blood off of them, causing droplets of red to fly across the training mat. She felt a little nervous at the mess, wondering if she would get punished.
She wouldn't, right? Right.
Oops?
She glanced at her Papa, who stood at the end of the training mat with a look of approval.
Vay didn't know how much time had passed from when she had trained with her Papa the first time. They'd frozen her then, a month after they introduced her to "the stranger" who they called Vasily Karpov. Papa told her that he was a primary handler. Vay knew then, that he was very important.
Now, another month had passed since Papa and her were removed from the cryostasis chambers—again.
She'd been greeted by the darkness again, and Vay had been unafraid– again.
She didn't know why she couldn't see Loki anymore– all she knew was that he was real, because the emerald ring on her finger was real. There had to be a way to see him, she just couldn't figure out how. It made her heart twist uncomfortably because–
What if Loki wasn't safe?
What if–
What if something happened to him?
Vay straightened as the agent stumbled back onto the mat. His hand was still covered in his own blood. Was she supposed to heal him? Her eyes darted to Papa, unsure. What was she supposed to do? Papa looked back at the Primary Handler, who was watching from afar. The Primary Handler gave a nod.
Vay let her eyes wander back over to the agent, who gazed at her with a pleading– no, determined, look? She tilted her head. She was hungry so she wanted to eat the light the agent had, but his light was very strong; painfully strong. It made her hesitate. This agent had lots of time to live. Maybe– maybe she shouldn't–
