The Irony of it All

22

Screw up. That was her first thought. Wait, who was a screw up? Her. She was a screw up. Why? Because they caught her. With just 274 miles to go, she had gotten caught. She stretched her toes. She felt stiff and heavy. They must have drugged her. The poison dart. 274 miles. She had to get to Wakanda. She had to call Steve. But she was so tired. Perhaps it could wait. Just five more minutes. 274 miles. She slipped back into unconsciousness. 

When she awoke again, she blinked against the soft lights of whatever room she was in. She felt stiff, not sore, just stiff, like lead, and her tongue and throat felt papery. She slowly remembered that she’d been in Niger, sleeping. She remembered how she woke up and reached for her gun, but she was too late as she felt the poison flooding her system. No. Not poison. She was alive. It was a tranquilizer. Well that explained why she felt like lead. She was in a room with pastel yellow walls, and white linoleum floors. She tested her handcuffs to find that she wasn’t handcuffed. She slowly sat up. She wasn’t chained at all. 

The room was empty besides her and the bed she was on. The frame was steel, and one piece so that she couldn’t break any piece off to use as a weapon. The mattress was surprisingly firm, yet soft. High quality. She got up and crossed the room, testing the door. It was solid steel, locked, and no keyhole on this side for her to pick. Not that she had anything to pick it with. The hinges were unbreakable as far as she could see. If she had Steve’s strength, she could probably do it, but for now she was trapped. After searching the room for other weaknesses and finding none, she settled back on the bed to wait. 

After ten minutes, the door creaked open and an older man, tall and thin with curly brown hair combed back and gray sideburns, and a trimmed beard striped with gray, entered. He was dressed in slacks and a button down shirt, complete with a white lab coat. “Miss. Romanoff,” He greeted with a heavy german accent. She didn’t bother to correct him, instead keeping her mouth shut. 

He handed her a glass of water. She hesitated, but took it. She was thirsty, and it was unreasonable to think that they’d try and poison her when they’d already had the chance. As she slowly tipped the water back, keeping her eyes steadily trained on him, he spoke. “I am Doctor Conran Krause. I will be your main physician during your stay here. 

“We don’t plan on hurting you, Miss. Romanoff. You’re here for monitoring only. The room you’re in is barren because we know from the past just how resourceful you are. The door will stay locked at all times, with two guards stationed across from it. There are tiny cameras in each upper corner of the room so we can have eyes on you 24/7. 

“You will receive 3 meals a day, prescribed by me to give the fetus the best chance of healthy development. You will be given a glass of water with each meal. A nurse and a guard will come in and keep you company when you eat. Two nurses, accompanied by a guard will take you to shower once a day in the mornings. When you are clean, you will then be escorted to the lab for a urine test, a blood test, heart rate check of both you and the fetus, and an ultrasound. Then you will be escorted back to your room. 

“You will be allowed 1 hour of television per day, with three channel’s to choose from. Music will be played at 3:00 and then again at 8:00 to prepare you for sleep. Literature will be supplied to keep your mind stimulated. I understand that you can also read latin and greek fluently along with french and your native tongue of Russian, among a few others. The guards will be sure to bring in a few different options.

“Now that you know what to expect, I shall send the nurses in to accompany you to the shower. I’m sure that you’d appreciate getting clean after all those weeks spent in the desert. Hmm. Any questions?”

She had already deciphered quite a bit. They didn’t want to hurt her. In fact, it seemed that they didn’t even want her to be stressed. Even going as far as painting the walls a pastel yellow, a color known to be soothing and relaxing. Warm. Not that it would help. She was a prisoner here and she was going to be on edge no matter what they did. A shower did sound nice. She needed it.  But she did have a few questions.