W I N T E R

Government

Tony Stark's unmanned suit landed back on Earth in a short amount of time. It flew straight into the Avenger's compound, where its load was handed off to the United States military that was on standby. Tony himself was there, overseeing everything. He had no say in where Oleald-known as Olielle to him-was taken. The only he had had to do to get the U.N. off his back was to locate and retrieve the Skaxin. The only person that had say over where Olielle was taken-and what was to be done to her-was the Secretary of State. 

Tony was aware of a figure at his elbow, and looked to find Natasha standing there. There was a deeply embedded frown on her face as she watched the unconscious Skaxin being loaded into a heavily armed vehicle. Frankly, Natasha didn't like the way Olielle was being manhandled as such. Still, she knew that the fate of the gray-skinned alien was to be much worse once she reached her destination. The truck drove off, and Natasha returned to her room, unsettled. Tony went to work on his suits, wanting to get his mind off of the things that were going to be done to Olielle.

The truck drove and drove, all the while its precious and rather dangerous cargo remained completely oblivious. She was nearly reduced to the state she had been in for years when she had been in the HYDRA facility. Even now, awakened by the jolting of the truck, she was sitting on the floor of the cell, hands folded neatly. Her mind was blank. She didn't know who she was, didn't know where she was. There was something urgent pressing at the back of her mind, a single thought, a single emotion. It was a name, a face, a feeling. She couldn't place it, however, no matter how hard she tried. She gave up after a while, and allowed herself to be lulled by the constant whir of the tires.  After what seemed like hours, the truck came to a slow stop. The doors were thrown open to blinding light. Oleald blinked, her eyes rapidly dilating in an attempt to adjust. She was prodded and jabbed out of the truck, and prodded and jabbed into a white hallway. It was a short walk to a tightly sealed room. She was admitted in, and immediately pushed back against a wall. Another cell, more cuffs. This time, the cuffs encircled not only her wrists, but her ankles and neck as well. She closed her eyes as they were snapped into place. When she opened them again, the group of soldiers had left the room, as had the ear-splitting noises they made. In front her remained a sole figure. His back was to her. Slowly, he turned, and sharp eyes met her own. He squinted slightly, then gave a sickening smile. Oleald's heart sank.

"Now, this will easy. For me. For you, too, if you decide to cooperate. If you don't, then I'm going to have so much fun." 

He dragged out the last syllable, making a shiver run through Oleald's spine. The door to her left opened, and a sort of table was wheeled in. Her eyes widened at the contents of it. The man laughed. 

"How about we start easy. What's your name?"

Oleald didn't speak. She only narrowed her eyes at the man and braced herself. The man shrugged, and went to the table. He picked up a small object, and walked over to her. He let the cool metal of it rest against her cheek before he pressed down. Oleald made no noise, only clenched her jaw in pain. Black blood seeped from the small cut the man had made. He squinted once more.

"Fascinating! Hopefully you keep that mouth shut. I'm sure our scientists would love to see more of your fine blood. And much, much more of that alien body of yours."

Oleald watched as he walked away, already hating him. They continued like this, him asking questions and her not saying a word. He grew angry at times, when the question was more important. His temper would wear thin and he would make sure to hurt her more. Still, she remained stoic and unnerved. She managed to make it through two sessions without a single word said. After the second session was complete, she was removed from the room. In the other room she was taken into there was an operating table, and other wheeled tables much like the one in her cell. She was placed on the table, cuffed so she wasn't able to move. They cut into her, examined her in every way possible. They collected her blood, studied her muscles and bones. She went through the examinations multiple times in a day. At the end of each, she would be stitched back up and moved back to the cell she had started off in. It went like this for days. She was in a bad way, her mind horrified and scared of the humans around her, and what they were doing to her. At the same time her mind began to shut down, the torture took a turn for the worse. The man was more annoyed with each session, and finally he took a last resort. Oleald didn't know what was happening until she was injected with something. At first, nothing happened out of the ordinary. Then she began to burn as though there was a fire under her skin. She sweated nonstop, tears rolling down her cheeks. The hallucinations began not long after. She saw people she recognized, spoke to them freely. She begged for help, or held pleasant conversations with them as though nothing was wrong. Always, however, the man would come back with the syringe. It didn't take her long to realize what exactly was in the syringe. Poison, a nasty yellow substance that went into her bloodstream. The antidote was a filmy white liquid, though there was always more poison in her than antidote. They were keeping her alive, barely. The experiments were still going on through all this, though now the doctors were onto examining her eyes. There was many a time when her vision was cloudy, or completely blacked out. She hated the blindness with a passion, especially after the final examination. Her sight was rendered useless, then. The blackness absorbed her entire being, and for once and for all she just wanted it to take her away. She knew she was broken at that point. She couldn't put weight on her left leg, all due to a severed tendon that never healed properly. The man hadn't bothered to have it sewn back together. The same with her left hand. The tendon had been severed at the elbow, hadn't been reattached, and healed badly. She had no use over her fingers in that hand. All she wanted, when she was left alone to herself, was to be gone from that world. She would let her head hang, her arms chaffed by the cuffs. She would sag in her binds, completely and utterly defeated. She was hopeless. Completely hopeless.