Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.

1: The White Room

     White... Everything is white... All I've known is white...

     Galaxy's dulling azure eyes were locked wide open as she leaned her head against the wall. She couldn't remember the last time the lights weren't on, the last time she'd had anything to eat that wasn't white rice and milk; color was like a dream, but now even when she slept, she saw no colors. As her human shape, she was given a white suit to wear, her arms and legs left bare to the cold room, but they were so pale now, her skin looked like dead flesh. Though she was able to shift, her normal blue wolf coat had been bleached white. 

     She couldn't take it anymore. Her ribs now shown through her coat from her lack of eating; the last time she looked at a glass of milk, white snakes with glinting red eyes poured from the container, and chased after her, hissing and flashing their sharp fangs. The rice in the bowl she was given jumped out as fleas, and she felt her skin crawl every time a bowl was presented to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she always saw something, a beast of sorts that loomed against the white walls, and had horns that curved around like a ram's. Gal had nowhere to run from it, no place to go. If she screamed when she saw it, a bull prod was stuck through the door and rammed against her side, leaving her in hard, painful spasms from the shock. 

     There was no way to get out of there. 

     The door was always locked from the outside. Food came in through a slot near the floor. Silence was her only music to listen to, and it was gradually turning to static and screams in her mind.

     From the safety of an office on the other side of the facility sat a young man with a headset on. He watched the wolf, whose fur was now just starting to show through blue, slowly thumped and rubbed her face on the wall. Her eyes looked silver from the camera, and they were sunk into the sockets of her skull. "Francis," said the man. "You think she's gonna last much longer?"

     Francis, who was another man about the same age sitting across the room with a cup of noddles in hand, rolled his office chair over and looked at the camera. "Nah, I don't think she'll last longer than the end of the day, Turk. I don't think I've seen her eat or drink in almost a week." he said. "I mean, come on, most captives don't spend longer than eight hours in a cell; Selene told us to hold her 'til she dies, and she's hung on for almost a month now. Even if she does survive a little longer, she's ruined. Her mind is in pieces."

     Turk grimaced. "Too bad, though. I mean, the least Selene could have done is just execute her and be done; would have been kinder."

     He continued to watch the camera and noticed Galaxy's movements becoming more exaggerated. "What are you doing...?" he muttered, slowly rising out of his chair.

     Galaxy stopped rubbing and thumping her head and slowly looked at the white wall, having felt edges forming along where she had been pressing and rubbing. Her ears laid back and her expression remained dead.

     Turk sat down again. "Good." he muttered, and leaned back in his seat.

     The wolf stared a little longer, and suddenly her head swung violently into the wall. A long streak of blood spattered the wall, and droplets leaped to the floor. Galaxy continued to swing her head back and forth against the edge, creating deep gashes in her temples.

     "HOLY S___!" cried Turk quickly jumping from his chair and grabbing the bull prod. "Francis, get your gun! We've got a problem!"

     Galaxy was now exhausted from the beating, and collapsed to the floor. 'No... There isn't enough... Not enough color... I need more!' She bit into her wrist, her teeth cutting the vein. Blood bubbled and spilled to the floor, and she smeared it with her feet. 'More... More... I need more...'

     The door banged open, and Turk and Francis stood in the frame.

     Her lips snarled back to reveal her blood-stained teeth, and she let out a raw roar of rage upon seeing their faces.

     ZAP!

     She collided with the ground with a yelp, an electric shock streaking through her body. The bull prod was jammed against her head, the shock continuing to coarse through her.

     "Enough, Turk!" said Francis. "Just pick her up and haul her out; we'll figure out what to do with her from there.

     Jessica had no idea how long it had been since the ordeal, but her head still hurt immensely, and she could feel bandages wrapped tightly around her wrist and head, and pressure causing the wounds to hurt more. But when her eyes opened, the pain seemed to melt away. Above her, the sky was blue-gray with storm clouds starting to roll in. The trees had green leaves, grown large and healthy on the slim branches upon which they had stemmed. Birds were chirping at one another anxiously as gusts of wind buffeted the trees and their nests.

     She almost wanted to cry. 'There's color out here...'

     Suddenly she was thrown crossly to the ground. Landing on her wrist, she fought to keep from yelping at the feeling. Jess looked back at the men whom had thrown her, different ones from those who had hit her with the prod. 

     "Take her," said one man. "If you can do something with her, do it; skin her, dissect her, we don't care."

     Jessica's hazel eyes widened and she turned back to see who the men were talking to. Behind her stood a man in a navy blue suit, light blue button-down shirt, a black tie, and uniform, combed back brown hair. 

     "Thank you, I think we'll have plenty to do with her." He looked down at the bandaged woman dressed in white on the ground and grinned. "Phil Coulson, Senior Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D." He offered her a hand to help her up. "And you must be...?"

     It had been so long since she'd last used her voice to do anything other than scream, she barely remembered what her own name was. She swallowed, took his and and was hoisted up onto her feet. When her mind finally steadied enough, she looked up at him and spoke.

     "Jessica..." she said hoarsely. "I'm Jessica Repp..."