HADES // T. STARK DAUGHTER // MARVEL I.I

3 ~ CAPTIVE ~ 3

Something Funny:

*** EDITED ***

I don't remember anything after that. She must have hit me a couple times because I woke up with my face tingling. The room was dark and cold, every movement echoing throughout the grimy cement encasement. There weren't any corners or hiding places, the walls circular and covered in scratches. Still, I pressed myself as far from the thick door as I could get, curled in on myself. I knew two things instantly; this wasn't my bedroom, and this wasn't a jail cell. At least, not one that they had at any Police Station.

Dad will find me. Or Uncle Rhodey. Or Happy. Someone.

**

They left me there for what I determined was a few weeks with only a small ration of food sent through the door once a 'day'. Every night the dim lights would power down, not turning on until whatever was morning in this place. I hated the days, but I dreaded the nights. Every shift and step was magnified, each breath short and gasping. It felt like I was in a horror movie because surely this couldn't be happening. I mean, Dad got kidnapped by those guys in Afghanistan because he's Tony Stark, but I'm just Harley, with the above average IQ and little-to-no filter.

The first few nights I screamed until my lungs give out, that my dad would come save me, or that guy from S.H.I.E.L.D., Cole or Coulson or something. He helped my dad, even if it was kinda last minute, surely he would help me too.

But nobody showed up. Nobody saved me.

After the first 'month' past, I stopped shouting, stopped hoping. I mean, dad was a genius, if he wanted he could've found me by then, right? Maybe he could, he just didn't want to. Finally, the girl he had been stuck with was gone. Surely, that was it.

Before long he became Tony, no longer dad. Every late night helping him in the lab and all of the early mornings swims before school were faded and numb. I realized too late that it was something from the food I devoured every day. But by then, I was too hungry to care.

I carved tally's into the wall with every light flick, the sets adding up as time crawled on. A week past the month mark the door opened for the first time, just as I was finishing scratching the newest line into the wall, my fingers bloody from the constant wear.

Two men strode into the circular cell, equipped with black tac gear and guns. The first held a smirk as the other ripped me up from the ground, dragging me out of the cell harshly. They dragged me through twists and turns my foggy brain couldn't keep track of, ending with me strapped down on a metal table in a new room. This one held machines of all sorts, needles, and a terrifying tray filled with blades and scalpels, blood already clinging to some from the quarry before me.

I forced my tired body to struggle against the straps, screams leaving my mouth like they hadn't in almost two weeks. Tears escaped my eyes as the first man cut into my skin from my collarbone to my shoulder, slashing deep and with no care. Again, the man carved into my skin, this one from my shoulder to my elbow. Then once more, drawing jagged letters into my palm with the smallest blade. I felt myself losing consciousness from the pain, the man's words ringing in my ears.

"Hail Hydra."