I'm smiling next to you - A Marvel Fic

I

A/N; Oh hey, look, an edited version of this chapter appeared! How wonderful!

His eyes were focused on a lady, who was sitting on her knees in front of a black-clad and mean looking soldier. Her mouth opened and closed in desperation as she called out "No! Please, I beg of you, don't take him. Take us, murder us. I don't care, but whatever you do, don't take him with you!" 

He felt a sense of ease coming from her as he watched her beg. Was she someone he knew? Someone he trusted? He couldn't remember.

Another man was sitting on his knees as well, right next to the lady. He grabbed the woman's hand and turned to the silent figure in front of them. "Please, we are begging you, leave the boy alone."

The soldier doesn't say anything, doesn't make a sound, but instead raises their gun.

The scenery around him changes, and the three adults disappear. Instead of the warm room he was in just then, he was now standing in a dark, slimy hallway. All he hears are silent footsteps echoing around him, and the occasional drip of water droplets falling down onto the stone floor. He makes an attempt to turn his head, but finds out that he is unable to do so. A tingling sensation blooms up in the nape of his neck, making it's way up until he can feel it everywhere. A sense of dread pools in his stomach, and by instinct he turns around. Just in time, as he sees a person clad in gear running up to him, their gun trained upwards. Before he can fully register it, he hears a click, and then-

The hallway disappears, morphing into an immense room filled to the brim with people. The person in front of him morphs as well, changing into a shorter man wearing a grey three-piece suit. The man is surrounded by all sorts of people. He doesn't recognize them, but he feels a sense of familiarity wash over him as he watches the group interact with each other.

The man in the suit smiles as soon as he spots him, showing a row of perfectly white teeth, and he can see the crinkles around the man's eyes behind the sunglasses he's wearing.

He feels a smile forming on his face as well, from the easiness of it all. He feels safe, around these people. Secured even. But most of all, he feels-

BANG!

Petyr shoots up, slamming his head into the wall to his right. He stifles a groan as his hand moves up to clasp his head, and he rolls of off his mattress. The moldy rag that serves as him blanket falls to the ground as he stands up, fighting off a wave of dizziness. Out of pure instinct and training, his hands move behind his back and clasp together whilst he averts his eyes to the ground.

A group of three soldiers barge into his cell, their three guns all trained on him.

A short, middle aged man with quite a few bald spots on his head walks in after them. On his shoulders and hanging behind his back is stained white lab coat. Petyr can feel the shivers running down his back at the sight of him, but he makes sure he doesn't show it.

It's a rule he learned a while back. Show fear, and be punished. He has been punished enough times before he had the common sense to obey said rule.

The man stops right in front of him. Despite the guards' warnings, he reaches out to take Petyrs chin in his hand, lifting the boy's head, and Petyr has no choice but to look the man into the eye.
"Soldier 11010, do you copy?"

Petyr nods, pushing the man's hand away in the process. "Yessir." A shiver runs down his back as the man puts his hand back into it's previous position.

He never liked the feeling of that hand. It's papery touch with all those veins bulging out of the skin like worms. He wants to swat it aside and make sure it never touches his face again. But he can't, unless he wants to get attacked by those three mean-looking guards.