Chapter 4: Awakening to Reality
The days that followed were a blur of pain and disorientation. For Alex, time seemed to stretch indefinitely, every minute an eternity of agony. The vibranium coursing through his veins had made sure of that. His body, once human, now felt like a battleground, every cell torn and twisted by the forced experimentations Hydra had subjected him to. He had been bound by chains, unable to move or even get a decent breath, his body screaming for release, but there was no relief in sight.
His eyes fluttered open again, the faint light from the ceiling of his small cell blurring into view. The world seemed distant, far away, as if he were submerged underwater. Every inch of his skin felt raw, every movement too painful to contemplate. His limbs were stiff, his body unresponsive, and a dull, constant ache pervaded his chest.
"Help me…"
It was a weak whisper, but Alex said it aloud anyway. His body trembled with the effort, but it didn't help. No one would hear him. No one could save him. He had been abandoned in this place, shackled, tortured, and forgotten.
The memory of what had happened—the experiments, the pain, the injection of vibranium, and the intense, blinding bursts of power that had surged through him—still haunted him. It felt like his body had been ripped apart and put back together again, but it had never quite healed. The chains that held him to the bed in his cell were the least of his concerns. The pain was constant, an invisible weight on his chest, as if his very bones were made of lead.
The thought of death flickered in his mind once again.
"Maybe it's better if I die," he whispered to no one in particular. "I can't take this anymore. I can't... I can't..."
His mind spiraled. The pain was unbearable, and he felt utterly alone. But just as despair threatened to consume him, a soft sound caught his attention. A footstep. A faint rustle of fabric. He strained his ears, trying to focus.
It was her. Wanda.
She was standing there, her dark hair hanging loosely, her eyes locked on him. He had seen her earlier, but only in glimpses, the torture had blurred his memories. She had been there, another test subject, her own pain and torment etched into her features just as deeply as his.
But now, looking at her, something shifted. He could feel the connection—a spark that flared deep inside him, far more intense than anything he'd felt before. A bond. The same one that connected him to Pietro, but this one… this one was different. It was inexplicable, as if fate itself had decided to bind their souls together. He tried to lift his hand, but the chains restricted him, the pain intensifying as he made the attempt.
"Don't move," Wanda's voice was soft, but it held an edge of command. Her gaze softened, and Alex could see the compassion behind her eyes. But there was something else there, too—a shared understanding of the torment they were both enduring.
Without a word, she stepped forward, reaching for a tray of food that had been left near the door. Alex had been given painkillers and a strange broth-like substance, but the food was rarely enough to quell the raging hunger inside him. The painkillers had long since worn off, leaving him with nothing but the raw, unrelenting agony that coursed through him.
She sat down beside him, the chair creaking under her weight. The sound of her breathing was steady, calming, and despite the darkness of the room, there was something about her presence that eased the suffocating air. Wanda took a spoonful of the medicinal soup and brought it to his lips.
"You need to eat," she murmured. "You won't survive if you don't."
Alex wanted to protest. He didn't deserve to be saved, didn't deserve her kindness. But his body betrayed him. The warmth of the soup was comforting, even though it burned slightly on the way down. He swallowed weakly, the fluid a small reprieve from the gnawing emptiness inside him.
He didn't speak, but the bond he felt with Wanda grew stronger as she continued feeding him. There was no judgment in her eyes, no pity. She just… was there. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Alex didn't feel completely alone.
Pietro had been silent for the most part, sitting in the corner of the room, his restless energy contained for the time being. He glanced at them occasionally, but it was clear that he was still struggling to accept their new reality.
The hours bled into days, and Alex's condition did not improve.
His body healed at an unnatural pace, the vibranium within him accelerating his recovery, but it wasn't enough to overcome the trauma he'd endured. Every attempt to stand or move was met with excruciating pain. His muscles screamed in protest, his bones ached, and his mind felt like it was being pulled in a thousand directions at once. He couldn't move, couldn't run, couldn't escape.
But Wanda was still there. She fed him. She talked to him, her voice soft and soothing. She never judged, never made him feel weak. Her presence gave him something to hold onto, something to cling to when everything else seemed impossible.
"You're stronger than you think," she would tell him, her voice barely a whisper. "We all are."
And though Alex didn't believe her at first, part of him began to wonder if she might be right.
Days turned into weeks. Hydra's experiments continued, but Alex was too weak to fight back, too broken to resist. He could only lie there, listening to the screams of others, to the distant sounds of their tortured cries.
But there was still Wanda. Her warmth. Her unwavering presence. Slowly, over time, he began to realize that she wasn't just a fellow test subject. She wasn't just another victim of Hydra's cruelty. She was his anchor.
And as he lay there, bound to the bed, the pain still throbbing in his bones, Alex couldn't help but wonder if there might be something more to this strange, inexplicable connection between them. Something deeper, something that might survive the horrors of Hydra's twisted plans.
But for now, he would have to survive. They all would.
And maybe, just maybe, they could find a way out of this nightmare together.