8. Monster

     FORTUNATELY, BUT UNFORTUNATELY – at least to her – that was not the end for Cecelia.

The shocks came to a halt, but by that time Cecelia had already blacked out, and when she woke she was back in her room, or cell, to be more specific. Her neck was sore; it stung every time she tried to open her mouth and little aftershocks would arise making her shudder. And the worse part?

That was only the first of many times.

Every week, Cecelia was forced back in that same room, and every week there was a new person that Strucker wanted Cecelia to kill. In a scarily twisted way, she understood why. He wanted her to train her powers and to be better. But his version of better meant turning her into a monster. Underneath the surface she could feel the serum coursing through her veins begging to be let out. And it scared her because there was a part of her that wanted to let it out, a part of her that wanted to test how far she could push her powers and how much she could do with them.

But no matter how much she wanted to let it out she'd be damned if she killed another person to do it. She was hopeless, but she was not a murderer.

This week, however, was different. Instead of a scared, teenager cowering away from her in the corner she found a hardened soldier standing in the center of the room. His hand was clenched around a black handle, and as her eyes traced over the material, gave way to a long, rope-like braided cord curled at his feet - a whip. She eyed him, her face blank and void of emotion, though inside she was nervous and terrified. This man was unfamiliar to her, not one of the normal guards she saw.

As if sensing her thoughts, the intercom clicked on above her and Strucker's voice rang through the air. "Subject M-01, if you won't kill the test subjects I bring in for you then maybe you'll do better killing off one of my guards."

It fell silent once more and Cece kept her gaze locked on the man in front of her. She didn't know if this was a trick or if Strucker was really allowing her to harm one of his men without consequence. For all she knew–

CRACK!

The man threw his arm forward and like lightning the rope slashed through the air, slamming against Cece's arm. She yelled, her knees buckling as she gripped over the spot she had been struck. The action ripped through her shirt revealing a small cut, a drop of blood sliding down her skin. She stared at it, shock etched across her face as she looked back up at the man. Before she had time to react, he did it again, this time striking her across her leg and making her drop completely to the ground. "What the fuck?"

"Hurts, doesn't it?" The guard sneered at her, circling her like she was a piece of meat; a lonely prey waiting to be jumped. "I call her Moarte. It means death." He caressed his whip lovingly, a sickening twinkle in his eyes as he spoke about it. "She's special. We only get to play with the most stubborn of guinea pigs. We hurt them, we break them, and sometimes we kill them." He kneeled in front of her, tracing Moarte across her cheek ignoring the flinch when he did. "Tell me, which one are we going to do to you?"

When Cecelia remained silent, he laughed standing back up. He turned walking towards the glass and shrugging his shoulders as if he was giving up, but Cecelia knew better. The man spun back around, Moarte slamming against her cheek and knocking her on her side. She coughed, rolling over onto her stomach and attempted to push herself up, but another strike from the whip sent her crashing back down. "Pathetic," the man muttered, staring at her. "You have the power to stop me and yet, here you lay, weak and helpless. How could you even call yourself Tony Stark's sister?"

"Do not talk about my brother," Cecelia spat, the metallic taste of copper fresh on her tongue. "The media slanders him enough. You don't get to do it too." She shook her head, eyes narrowing dangerously, though he couldn't see it. "I won't let you do it too."

"And what, per se, are you gonna do to stop me?"

Cecelia's hands tingled and she clenched her fist as the serum swam through her body. Her eyes widened as a blue haze wrapped lightly around her hands. Behind them, the file cabinet floated in the air, the same blue haze wrapped about it as her hands. At a blinding speed, the cabinet flew through the air, slamming into the guard and knocking him into the wall before he fell to the floor, the whip flying out of his hand.

With an aching and whip-strained back, Cecelia pushed herself up, stumbling away from the man. She waited with bated breath for the man to get up and attack her, for him to grab Moarte and continue slashing at her. But what happened instead was worse.

She watched blood begin to pool at the bottom of the man's head, guilt ebbing its way into her stomach. She killed him. She ended that man's life – how had she ended his life? It didn't make any sense. She just wanted him to keep Tony's name out of his mouth. She hadn't meant to take it this far.

No. This is not your fault. He provoked you and brought this on himself. He got exactly what he deserved.

And yet, as she looked at the dead body on the ground, she couldn't help but squeeze her eyes shut as a single tear slipped down her cheek. This man was evil, but he was still somebody's child– maybe somebody's father and husband– and the fact that she had taken him out of this world sent her collapsing to her knees.

Even as the body was dragged away and she was forced back into her room, Cecelia couldn't get the image of his lifeless jade eyes out of her head. Even in death, the eyes had seemed to pierce right through her soul, leaving her shaken. But the thing that was engraved in her mind the most was the smirk plastered on his face; the same one she had seen on Strucker when she was first taken and the same one Doctor List wore right before the experiments started and she got her powers. It was a smirk of promise — one that said this was only the beginning.

Another tear slipped down her cheek as she pulled her knees to her chest, shock and disbelief swirling through her head. She sniffled, burying her head in her knees.

What had she done?