The Sound of Silence

Chapter 20

   You woke in a bed, an honest to goodness bed, not a prison cot, not a hospital bed, an actual reasonably soft bed. The sun was streaming in through a bedroom window, the weak light of a northern winter. For a brief, glorious, wonderful moment, you thought that you had been rescued.

That moment was shattered when your foggy brain realized that you were still gagged, still wearing that awful shock collar. None of your friends would have left you in that state. You finally moved to sit up. Your winter coat and boots had been removed as well as the handcuffs. At least the handcuffs were gone. Your hands reached up automatically to remove the gag, knowing already that the collar was locked on.

"Don't bother," a female voice said from the chair in the corner of the room. You hadn't noticed her, her, chair, or anything about the room when you first woke. It was Smith, the woman who had searched you and rode in the backseat of the car with you. "It's locked," she added when you looked over at her. "Get dressed, the boss wants to see you. If you behave, you'll get to eat something after," she ordered, gesturing to the garment at the end of the bed. You nodded meekly, knowing better than to argue with the person who was obviously brandishing the shock button. That would just be stupid.

You stiffly got out of the bed and picked up the stupid dress that was on the bed. You glared at it, but there wasn't any choice in the matter. You had to do what you were told right now. Smith was watching. You glared at her. She didn't have to watch you change. You couldn't do anything stupid right now anyway. "Fine, but if you do anything stupid..." she trailed off, holding up the shock button. She moved to stand by the door, keeping you from leaving, but not watching you change. It was as much privacy as you were going to get. You changed quickly into the spaghetti strap knee-length dress. You cursed all of these assholes for not only wanting to display your scars, but also make escape much more difficult. A summer dress and no shoes were no match for the snow.

Assholes.

Plus it was cold in here.

Worse assholes.

"C'mon," Smith told you and led the way out of the room, her hand around your upper arm. Like you were going to fight her when she had the shock button and you had no chance of escape. You weren't stupid.

She led you to a room in this strange house you were in that was set up as an office. A man in a very expensive looking suit was sitting at the desk. Smith shoved you roughly into one of the chairs on the other side of the desk from the man. "Here's the Prophet, sir," she announced unnecessarily. The man's attention turned to you.

"Smith! This just won't do. Remove that gag from our new ally,"

"Sir, she's a slave, a prisoner at best, not our ally. You know she's dangerous," Smith protested. You fought the urge to glare at her.

"You know I hate that word!" the man protested, sounding offended.

"Fine, sir. She's a prisoner with a job, a very dangerous prisoner." You could practically hear her eyes roll at that reply. For your part, you sat demurely, feigning innocence, portraying your very well practiced cute little harmless mute girl act. It went so well with your ballerina's build.

"Do it, Smith," he ordered. The gag was gone a moment later and you rubbed your aching jaw, doing your best to look pitiful and harmless. "Now Prophet, welcome to Hydra. You'll be working for us now. Don't worry about those stupid Avenger thugs trying to take you from us. Thanks to Smith's abilities, you're hidden from their tracking, even that horrible false-god can't find you through her shielding. That doesn't mean we won't take precautions for your safety regardless..." his voice was pleasant, like he was trying to sound convincing, like they had rescued you from the Avengers or something. He was telling the truth about Smith's abilities, though. You'd lived with Loki long enough to be able to tell a lie when you heard one, and that wasn't one.