"Make it stand up," a lazy order rang out across the cell. It has officially been a month and a half since we were kidnapped again. Peter was worn thin, suffering and bleeding behind a stone-cold mask he was ordered to wear. I was wearing down in mental exhaustion, forced to order and watch the little boy I thought of as a son be forced into horrendous deeds. "We're conducting more experiments first and you get to watch."
Completely resigned, not finding a way out of this place, I sighed as I forced myself to stand and called out an order for Peter to follow, making him snap up from his rested, kneeling state into a submissive standing one.
I repeat the names of the people we love to Peter every single night, hoping that something would spark a memory and snap him out of it. But no, ever since they said the words, I have not noticed a single spark of hope in his eyes nor any words come out of his mouth that wasn't a direct response to an order.
I would love to easily be able to order him to just "leave Hydra", but despite his conditioning to listen to me, his handler, he is first and foremost ordered to never betray this organization. Being under the words makes someone think that there is nothing else to life but Hydra. Two words ring through your head the entire time.
Obey.
Hydra.
Obey.
Hydra.
Two words and nothing else.
I can't even do anything myself because I have guards watching me 24/7 and they have me locked up to vibranium cuffs, my hands tied behind my back. Peter is in a similar position, though he frequently gets out of his cuffs as per the orders of the soldiers. He also has a state-of-the-art, nifty shock collar that pumps him up with enough voltage to either make him scream or pass out.
I directed Peter over towards the training room that Dr. Miller told me to go. It was one of the larger training rooms, with a lot of facilities very well equipped to test the physical ranges of a supersoldier.
"Hello James Buchanan Barnes. We will be doing a physical endurance test today. Order the Spider to run 75 laps across our track."
I blanched at the number. 75 laps? That's practically insane! Each lap is 0.25 miles. They want him to run less than 20 miles straight?
With Peter's health status right now, that was basically impossible.
Peter is extremely malnourished and being under the words leaves him immensely exhausted and fatigued. I hate seeing how thin he has become in a little over the month, and the dark, purplish bags that grew and deepend under his eyes, but that's just what Hydra does for you. Peter also isn't allowed to eat unless being directly ordered to so I can only give him the small portions that the guards dish out. I can't even give him some of my food to compensate.
"Dr. Miller, I don't thin–" I tried to say, my voice tired and weak, but gently trying to make an effort against the injustice. I found myself flinching as a button was pressed and a shock was sent through Peter's frail body. He hardly moved again, but even that made me cringe. Why did I have to speak up if I knew it was only going to make it worse for him?
Stupid, stupid, stupid!!!
"Do as I say James Buchanan Barnes," the doctor just said. I grit my teeth. I hated how he said my full name. It made me feel helpless and weak.
"S-20," I said, making the little spider snap up in attention. "Run 75 laps across the track. Start at line 1 and verbally announce the lap number after completing."
"Yes master!" a small voice rang back in response, emotionless and hard, yet still the voice of a child.
Peter walked stiffly over towards the start of the track and quickly shot out to run around the track. Every time he crossed the line, he shouted out loud what number lap he was on.
Peter was going strong and steady in the beginning, making the first thirty laps with ease. I was starting to grow a little bit more hopeful.
Maybe he could actually make it!
I spoke too soon. Peter started to slow down around the forty-third lap and reduced his speed down to a light jog, compared to the full on sprint he was maintaining before.
"I didn't ask you to slow down," the sharp voice of the director snapped at the poor, tiny figure, delivering a shock that made Peter jump. A quiet sorry called out in return as Peter struggled to force himself to pick up the pace again. I could tell it was getting harder to breathe and there was a painful stitch in his side, but he was pushing through.
Around lap fifty-six, Peter started to slow down again. He was dripping with sweat and his breathing was labored and hard. I desperately wanted to run up to him and help, but I couldn't escape my kneeled position in the corner where the guards stood behind me and kept my hands locked in cuffs.
He was so close.
So, so close.
Lap sixty-three Peter's eyes rolled up and he collapsed into a twitching pile of exhaustion.
He must have passed out from the lack of food. He was barely being fed as is and running this much must have burned out whatever little calorie storage he had in his thin body.
"Please! PLEASE!" I shouted, trying to wring my body away from the guards. "Let me go to him! He needs help! Please, please! Let me go! Please! You can punish me! Beat me! Whatever, I don't care, do whatever you want to me, but let me HELP him!"
Dr. Miller said nothing but came over and slapped me across the face, making me jerk over to the side. He pulled out the remote and abused Peter even in his unconscious state.
"I expect you to punish S-20 for not following orders," his snake-like voice hissed. I clenched my jaw and squeezed my eyes shut at his words. "You are his handler after all."
Where are they?
I don't know how much longer I can take this and I don't know how much longer Peter can pull through.
YOU ARE READING
Not Anymore
FanfictionS-20 has only ever known one thing, Hydra, until one man came into his life and showed him that there was so much more. That man was his first friend. His older brother. But after one night, the two were ripped apart and S-20 cannot even remember hi...
