CHAPTER TWO;
UŚNIJŻE MI, UŚNIJ

THE CELL WAS COLD, IT REMINDED HER OF THE PLACE THAT HAD BEEN HER CHILDHOOD HOME. She'd tried to put up a fight when the soldiers swooped in, she'd shot burning sunlight at Valentina but she'd managed to leap out the way- Mira had gotten sloppy over the years. All her training that her father forced her through hadn't been necessary living with the old lady. Her bare feet shiver against the floor, she wishes someone would at least bring slippers- it was the least Valentina Allegra de Fontaine could do for her.

Outside the cell, scientists were crunching numbers, running initial tests and looking over data that they'd recovered from her father's lab in Poland. Unfortunately the Winter Soldier hadn't gotten rid of everything. That's how Valentina knew about her- old records stamped with a HYDRA label that described a remarkable girl who could use the power of the sun to do anything. It wasn't as easy as that, of course, but Miss de Fontaine didn't care, she wanted a new team of Avengers to manipulate.

Mira wonders how long it'll be before they push her too far and she winds up dead. In a sick, twisted way, she hopes its sooner rather than later. It felt strange to be shackled again, but in some ways, it felt natural. Like muscle memory. As if she was always supposed to end up back here, chained to a wall with cuffs that suppressed her light. As she sat there, contemplating whether helping that woman back in Russian was worth it, the doors at the end of the corridor clang open. Her head lifts slightly and she watched as a group of people are escorted past her cell. They pause outside of it, but not to face her, not to look at her like an animal in a cage. They're being spoken to by one of the lab technicians, he's pointing through the glass opposite her cell that observes the laboratory in which she'd already been tested on.

"This is where we'll be doing the medical study," Says the lab tech, "Eventually, all of you will subject to some moderate tests before we actually begin the study, just to ensure all of you are fit and healthy enough to take part,"

Mira scans the group outside, a range of men and women, a range of ages and ethnicities. All of them are dressed in what appeared to be hospital scrubs. She forces herself into a stand, much to the protest of her cold feet and her pounding head. She pretty much had a permanent headache whenever she was forced to wear the cuffs that were invented by her father. At the back of the pack, a taller man stands fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. He's skinny and looks sort of sick, pale and wide eyed. She shuffles forwards a little more, testing the give of the chain on her restraints. The man's head turns to look at her cell. He has curious eyes that are tinged with sadness- possibly even despair. From behind the cell door Mira wants to shout and scream for them to leave, but her voice is already hoarse from yelling, plus it would like end up in them all being shot dead.

"W-whats in this room?" The man asks, his shaking hand points at the door of the cell. The lab tech frowns.

"Just storage," He says, voice monotone, "Anyway folks, lets get you moved along,"

The group walks along the corridor, all but the man who asked about the room. He stays a minute longer, staring at the cell door. It was likely that it had some sort of technology about it that hid the window from passersby unless they had some kind of special access. He sighs and then shuffles along the hallway after the rest of them, leaving Mira alone again.

"Try again," The man instructs, holding his tablet in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He was on the other side of a glass wall, observing Mira. She'd been dressed the same as the group of medical study volunteers the other day, but now she wore a hundred bruises under her clothes. Valentina wasn't here anymore, which meant that the mercenaries who escorted her from cell to lab each day could get away with beating her black and blue. She couldn't heal herself, because of the cuffs and they knew it too. This room was the only place she was allowed to have the cuffs off, and the lab technician on the other side of the glass asked her to do tricks like a circus animal.

"I can't do it," She says, speaking English again was hard for her after so many years of Russian and her native Polish.

"You need to try Mira," He says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. She knew why he was pushing so hard. They needed to know what she could do with sunlight, in order to try and perfect whatever they wanted to do with the medical study subjects.

She hadn't seen any of them since the few days prior, she hoped they were all still safe, she hoped some of them changed their minds and left. Shaking her head, she lifts her right hand, the tips of her pale fingers glowing gold. Slowly, she conjures a golden bow and then rises her left hand, a golden arrow formed and she puts it on the string and pulls it back taunt. She aims at the target across the room and then fires. The bow dematerialises in her hand and the arrow strikes the target- off centre, but close enough. The lab tech types something into his tablet.

"Good," He says, "You need to work on holding your manifestations for longer,"

Mira frowns, "And how am I supposed to work on this when I am trapped in those cuffs like a rabbit in a snare?"

The lab tech waves his hand, "Its not up to me how long you're in or out your cell, Miss de Fontaine controls all of that,"

"Does she pay you well? To torture people? What about that medical study? I know thats not really what it is...What false dream did you provide for those people?" She's right at the glass now, her hands are burning hot. The lab tech swallows his words with a gulp loud enough to be heard through the speaker in her little lab room.

She looks down at her hands and understands why they're so warm, burning with white hot light that has spread up to her elbow. Mira catches a glimpse of her reflection in the glass- her iris's are golden, glowing.

"Calm down Miss Antonova," The lab tech warns. Behind him, other scientists and doctors and who knows what else are all tensed at their desks or lab benches.

"I'm not doing any more bullshit for you today. I am not an animal in a cage for you to torment," She says, and she turns and throws up her hands, a ball of burning light blasts across the room and ignites the target into flames, causing scorch marks up the wall and onto the ceiling. Her voice causes the people to shudder, "This is just a taste of what my power is like. Be grateful I'm forced to wear those damn cuffs,"

The world had never been kind to Robert Reynolds. Since he was born, he was destined to be a failure, or at least thats what he believed. He had struggled for a long time with surviving. Since he was a teenager - much like his mother at that age - he had started having these strange bouts of up and down. One week, he'd be so happy. Maybe even too happy. He thought he could rule the world. The few 'friends' he had would love him during that time. They'd party and get high and drive around the city at speeds that were way past the legal limit. The next week, he'd feel the darkness creep back in. Slowly, his mind would remind him how little he was. How insignificant his life was. How pathetic he had always been and always would be. Eventually, it would become so bad, he would be so deep in his own darkness, that he would be enveloped by it. He'd always come back up to the surface - at least he had so far anyway - he'd end up doing something extreme, something so life threatening, that his brain would snap him back. He often woke up not remembering what had happened, like a blip, the whole memory wiped.

That was why he had signed up to the medical study in Malaysia. It sounded a bit suspicious but what did he have to lose? After all, if he died then there was no one left to care. This could make him better. Brilliant, even. That's what the medical study suggested, that he would become a better, stronger version of himself. He wanted nothing more than that, to be himself without all that darkness shrouding him. He wanted to matter to someone.

His eyes shift to the door as his thoughts are interrupted by what he assumes is some sort of nurse entering the room. She smiles at him as she approaches and then starts checking his files. "We're ready to begin with you now Robert,"

He blinks at her and nods his head a few too many times and he pulls back the sheets and climbs from the bed. Robert, or as he often called himself Bob, takes a sip of water before following after the nurse. She leads him to a different room, where he sees some of the other volunteers having blood drawn, having their heights re-checked or doing breath testing on a treadmill.

"Take a seat for me Robert and someone will be right over to begin," She smiles kindly at him before she exits the room.

He knows a few names, though he was notoriously bad at putting them with faces. Malorie Raleigh, Francis Ridalia and Elana Rhyskov. Those were the names he knew, he'd read them on the paperwork when he first arrived here. He didn't know if any of the people before him were owners of those names. Bob sits down, his hands shaky. It'd been hard for him, away from drugs that he was so dependent on taking. The first few days he'd thrown up all the food they'd fed him. They almost told him that he wouldn't be fit to take part but he was determined, he started eating slower, less. Now he was able to eat a little more before he felt sick.

A man approaches him and takes him over to the treadmill. They test his breathing rate and stamina at a slight incline for 20 minutes. He does well considering. Then it's time for height and weight checks. The man tells him he's on the skinny side, but they can fix that. Bob is subjected to several more tests- blood work, intelligence, physical strength.

He's in the middle of eating crackers after the blood test when he hears the scream. It makes the hairs on his neck rise. Bob glances around at the other volunteers before his eyes are drawn to two tall men wearing full black, armoured outfits and carrying guns across their chests pass by the lab. Some people gasp behind him. One of the volunteers starts asking questions in a language Bob can't identify.

"Just remain calm," Says one of the lab workers as if it was totally normal for those types of men to be walking about the lab.

Before Bob can ask a question himself a woman runs past the glass windows of the lab. Her face is covered in blood- whether her own or someone else's, he doesn't know. She glances inside at them all, her eyes connecting to Bob's briefly before she turns on her feet, facing the way she came. The two men with guns burst into the corridor. Bob stands up and steps forwards, his eyes widening as they lift the gun and fire it at her. The noise echoes around the room. One of the women behind him screams. The woman outside, dressed in clothes like his own, raises her hands and golden light bursts from her fingertips. She pulls back at her elbows slightly then throw her hands forwards, the burst of light flies at the two men, disintegrating their bullets and knocking them on their feet. He can barely believe his eyes. She turns to run again and then suddenly, more armoured men. She's about to reach the double doors at the end of the lab when one of them fires a weapon. Bolts of electricity hit her spine and she collapses against the cold stone floor, her right hand still extended out towards the door, still reaching for freedom.

"What the fuck was that?!" Exclaims one of the men behind him, "Is that the sort of treatment we can expect?"

"What was wrong with her hands? What was she doing? Shooting light?" Asks another person, frantic.

"Just calm down everyone! It's all okay. The woman is not part of the medical study and is a dangerous person who needed to be subdued. She is not going to harm you and neither will the guards," Explains one of the lab technicians.

"She was radiant," Bob mutters, "Powerful...Beautiful,"

"She's a murderer," Says the man, shaking his head at Bob. Then he turns and says lower for everyone, "That's everything for today. Lets get you back to your rooms,"

A woman leads Robert to his room, they have to pass by the so called dangerous woman as they do so. She's been cuffed at the wrists that seem to vibrate against her skin subtly, he assumes correctly that it's to repress whatever strange power she has. He pauses when they reach her, and the woman walking with him urges him on. His eyes meet those of the woman on the floor.

"Who are you?" He asks, his voice is soft. She looks up at him. The woman beside him is scolding him, telling him not to engage.

"Mira," The woman tells him, gritting her teeth. She was in pain already. Talking to him earns her a hit to the face with the butt of an assault rifle.

"Don't engage with the medical study volunteers," Says the guard.

"Robert come on," The lady drags him by his sleeve. He trips over his own feet a little, still looking back at the woman on the floor. Her eyes were green but they shimmers with the same gold that her hands had done. She was beautiful, and something about her called to him.

The woman leads him to his room and locks the door behind her when she leaves. He sits on his bed, fumbling with a loose thread on the blanket. He wonders about the woman - Mira. He sits for hours, his mind tossing and turning from subject to subject as it often did when he was left alone.

It's late and the room lights have been turned off with the expectation that the volunteers will be sleeping now. He's wide awake. The doors of the corridor squeak open and he watches as the woman with the golden hair, and golden light, is escorted - still in her shackles - past his room. Her face has been cleaned off now but her nose is spattered with a dark purple bruise. He hears the door beside his room open and chains banging as Mira is deposited inside. He had no idea what the room next door was like, he just knew it was small as it was the very end of the corridor. He looks at the wall that separated them. He was so close to her, but it felt so far. He sees a grate near the floor and he climbs out of bed, he hisses a little as his bare feet touch the tiled floor. He crouches down and tries to look through the grate, squinting.

"I-I don't know if you can hear me Mira...My name is R-Robert...But everyone calls me Bob," He says it quietly, but hopefully loud enough for her to hear him. A few moments of silence pass.

Then slowly, softly, her voice echos through the grate, "Hello Robert...I'm Mira...Its nice to hear a kind voice,"

He doesn't know why he smiles so widely, "I h-hope you're okay...What happened...I-It looked scary,"

Mira chuckles, her voice is scratchy as she speaks, "I'm used to it by now Robert,"

He sits down, dragging the blanket off the bed, "Can we talk awhile longer?"

"I'm tired Rob, but I'll listen,"

He rests his head against the wall, "I'm not the best at speaking...What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about you...Tell me how you ended up here," Mira tells him.

He sighs, closing his eyes. He thinks about how to begin for a while, but slowly, calmly, he tells her. He trusts her- he doesn't know why. They'd described her as dangerous, but he didn't sense that. Perhaps he was a fool and he should have just gotten into bed and slept.

On the other side of the wall, Mira's hand is pressed gently to the grate, fingertips glowing softly despite the cuffs. She listened to his story, listened to the cracks in his voice as he spoke about his father and mother, about being homeless, about losing days and days of memories to what he described as the void- the black hole in his mind where all his darkness belonged. She wanted to reach through the wall, she wanted to hold his hand. The silence is gentle and warm once he's finished speaking.

"I can't tell you my story...It pains me too much to speak of it," She says, it hurts her throat to talk.

"I understand...Thank you for listening to me," He says, "I'm tired too Mira. I'm going to try and get some sleep,"

She hears him stand and the silence creeps in again. She leans closer to the grate and as best she can she begins to sing softly. A Polish lullaby titled Uśnijże mi, uśnij that her father used to sing before he subjected her to his experiment. It's bitter sweet to sing it, but she does it anyway, hoping that it soothes Robert just enough to help him sleep. She sings and sings until eventually, she lulls even herself into slumber.