Harrington 3

Brain Shake

The door to the metal room suddenly slams open, and I'm abruptly pulled from my trance as Stalin walks back inside, tailed by his Russian cronies. He sees us on the floor and laughs, his colleagues soon joining in as they watch him lean over us in a taunting manner.

"Where were you going?" He asks, his hot breath on my face as I look up at him lazily.

"Narnia," I say dryly, letting my face fall back against the cool concrete floor, soothing my swollen nose.

Stalin beckons for his henchmen to lift us up, and they do. I glance at the guy that I kicked in the face, and smile sweetly. He glares back my way, roughly lifting us to the ground before stepping back. Steve, Robin, and I watch in silence as the men, one of which is wearing a lab coat instead of military attire, scatter around the room.

"Whatcha got there, doc?" I ask suspiciously as the bald man with the glasses and lab coat shakes a small vial full of a blue liquid that much resembles the contents of a glow stick, though a lot less fun.

Stalin walks over to me, smiling sickly before turning to my brother.

"Try telling the truth this time, yes?" He says, glancing back to me to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "It will make your visit with Dr Zharkov less painful."

He strokes a hand down my face, pressing his thumb gently onto my nose. I flinch away, and he laughs, provoking a burning hatred that rivals that which I have for my father course through my veins. I swiftly lift my leg and kick Stalin in the shin as hard as I can. He lets out a string of harsh Russian and glares at my triumphant expression before slapping me hard in the face. I spit blood onto the floor in front of him, smiling with red-stained teeth and making him step away in disgust.

"You only do this to yourself, silly child," he says thickly, limping away from me. I laugh.

"If I had a nickel for every time I heard that one, I'd be rich enough to buy this place."

He stares at me for a moment before looking to Dr Zharkov, who has clicked the vial of glow stick juice into a sort of gun looking thing, and nodding.

"Her first," Stalin says, gesturing to me malevolently. Zharkov approaches me, walking past a wide-eyed Steve.

"Wait a second. Wait. Hold on." He watches as the doctor approaches me with a malicious sneer, "Okay! Wait wait wait! What is that thing?"

"It will help you talk," Zharkov says to me, ignoring my brother's shouting. I look at the serum nervously.

"I don't think I have much of an issue talking, actually," I say quickly, looking from my brother to Stalin to Zharkov, "some would say I talk too much, funnily enough, even though I'd have to politely disagree--okay, you're getting a little too close for comfort--didn't you ever learn about personal bubbles in commie school?!--"

But my pointless babbling is cut off by Zharkov grabbing my head roughly and injecting the glow stick juice into my neck while holding me in place. I shout out at the stabbing pain, feeling a cold substance enter my blood stream from the vein in my throat.

"Liz? Liz!" Steve shouts out desperately as if I'm due to drop dead at any given moment, and I glance at him.

"I'm fine, Steven."

"Oh, well-- Woah! Woah woah woah!" He says as Zharkov turns to him next, "Wait wait--did you even clean that--Aaaargh!"

He too gets injected with whatever was in the gun, and then Robin. Once all three of us have been compromised, the doctor stands back, and Stalin looks at us with apparent triumph.