Sharonarrative time Who: Sharon Carter Where: Places Unknown When: Now What: Waking up again Warnings: Mind fuckery
The room itself was familiar, though it wasn't supposed to be. It was set up nicely, though it hadn't been her who had set it up. There were flowers in a vase, but not her favorites. There were pictures on the wall, but nothing that spoke to her. She looked down at the yellow legal pad in front of her and picked up the pen sitting next to it. She didn't know what to write, she wanted to write something. She looked around, confused, trying to figure what she was doing here, where she was, how she'd come to be there. She looked at her hands, days old bruises fading scabbed over, had she been in a fight? She didn't fight. Did she? Who would she fight with? She didn't know how to fight. Of course she knew how to fight. She pressed the pen to the paper. Nothing came.
She pushed herself away from the desk as if to retrace steps. She looked at her clothes, jeans, black tee shirt, no shoes. She was comfortable. The room. What was this room? She was uncomfortable. Where was she? She knew where she was, of course she did, she wasn't the type of person who just woke up in strange places. Was she? She went back to the desk and pressed her hands on it leaning forward. She closed her eyes tightly. She picked up the pen again and pressed hard on the paper as she wrote. Remember.
Of course she remembered.
Behind a wall and some two-way glass someone who was not paid enough for this watched carefully while the blonde woman paced. He wasn't going in there, not this time. The tape over his crooked nose was a stark reminder that he was going to call for backup the next time he needed to enter that room while this particular subject was pacing. Sharon Carter, Subject 13 (ha ha), a newly acquired, and not easily broken asset. But it had been a week now, she'd even been in the field twice. A week now, no incidents. And here she was, of course on his watch, starting to pace. He pushed a button. "Call the doctor. She's coming out of it again." It was supposed to be near impossible. Of course it always took a few tries. They anticipated a few more for her, but she was fighting it every step of the way.
In the room she wrote over and over and over again. Remember. Of course she remembered. She remembered fire and heat, and friendly voices in her ear. Voices that couldn't hear her. She'd been shot. Her hand flew to arm where the scar was, yes she'd been shot. But she was better now. She was taken to a hospital. The doctor. The good, the bad doctor had been there. It was the bad doctor, she remembered now. She started pacing, hurried now she tried the door, it was locked. When was the last time she'd tried the door?
In the observation room, the man had been joined, not by the doctor, but by six or seven others who were watching intently the scene unfold. Watched her as she started to come back from where they'd sent her. Watched her piece it all back together as quickly as she started tearing the room apart. Well shit. "How long was she under?" "Eight days. Longest so far." "We need ears in that room in case she talks." "Where the hell is the doctor?" As the mood and temperature in the both rooms soured and tempers flared. Three men were sent in to calm her until the doctor arrived.
The others watched from the safety of the observation room as she fought, and fought hard. They weren't to drug her, not until she'd seen the doctor. So they just had to contain her. It was easier said than done. Her mind was a mess, the effects of what they'd done to her physically were still an unknown variable, coupled with whatever had been done to her in the past - there was no way to know the full extent of what she was capable of, or if rumors of the efficacy of their experimentations had been greatly exaggerated. She fought, and they held her down, she screamed and swore. The doctor was the only one who could control her when she got like this.
He'd come by and ask one very important question and they'd know what they'd have to do. Where they'd have to start all over. And usually under strict orders not to kill her in the process. Which was easier said than done. They'd accidentally done it twice already, but bringing her back had been the easy part compared to keeping her mind where they needed it to stay. Calm. Compliant. Maleable. Eight days though. Eight days had to be considered some kind of success. Eight days and she did everything they told her without question, without flinching, without thinking. Just doing. But here, on day nine. She'd just snapped herself right out of it. Fuck.
The doctor didn't enter her room, he entered the observation room first and stood watching, fascinated as she fought. "As disgusted as I am with the failures I'm seeing in front of me, I have to say she is amazing." He said completely dismissive of anyone else in the room. He'd been obsessed with this particular subject, no one bothered to ask why, everyone had their demons and grudges, and obsessions, and in this woman this man had all three.
He left the room and those in the Observation room watched as he entered the chaotic room they monitored. And they listened as he spoke to her in the soothing lullaby of his voice, the only thing that ever seemed to calm her - if only he could manage it all the time. Right now she was fighting. But he asked just the same. "What is your name?" he asked, demanding an answer. She refused, but whether it was because she didn't know, or because she hated him that much, no one could quite tell. Instead she spat on him. And the men in the room tried not to laugh lest they be found out.
"What is your name?" he asked again this time making contact with her holding her chin firmly in his hands, forcing her to look at him as the three men struggled to hold onto her.
She got a satisfied smile then, angry, devilish almost. Shit. "Sharon Carter." She replied. The doctor was furious. He stepped back and violently knocked the vase of flowers over himself. Sharon just laughed, her head lolling back dramatically as she practically cackled. "I'm Sharon Fucking Carter." She said through the laughter and tears.
He didn't even look at her, he looked straight to the men. "Run her through it again. Start over. Wipe it all."
"We've already done that - " one of the men started to say.
"DO IT AGAIN." He shouted, collected his calm once again, and strode out of the room without a second look at the blonde woman who was still laughing.