"Sedate her again," Dr. Richard Wallace ordered through the double paned, bullet proof glass. The nurse on the inside of the glass looked down at the young woman speculatively before pulling out another syringe and filling it with another dose of the sedative from the tray on the table nearby.
She neared the woman who was braced haphazardly against the wall, feet crumpled beneath her and arms bound by a straightjacket that was necessary to keep her powers from manifesting and killing them all, although, the longer the woman looked at the malnourished form in front of her, the harder it was to keep seeing a monster. Instead, all the woman could see was a child in danger of dying if such treatments continued.
"Are you sure? She seems quite weak already," The woman spoke up, even though she turned to the young Avenger, already knowing what the answer would be. How many times had she posed such a question, hoping to spare the young woman from another dose that might eventually be responsible for her death?
"Don't be such a fool. We want her weak, otherwise she might be able to call for help. Who knows what the witch is capable of." Dr. Wallace sneered, completely focused on causing more pain on the young Avenger. Perhaps it was easy for him to give out these orders, however, it was not easy for her to administer the doses into her small body, knowing full well that she could overdose if this continued. Yet she went ahead with the orders away, more concern for herself than the being in front of her.
The admission left a weight like a stone in the pit of her stomach as she neared the prone form on the ground.
The woman walked forward, moving the uneaten bowl of food that was on the ground until it was safely out of the girls way in case she had yet another seizure. One of the many consequences of being constantly drugged above a safe amount.
Sticking the needle in the vein on the girls neck, the woman slowly pushed in on the plunger, hating herself more and more as she watched the fine liquid disappear into the young woman's body.
Had they no shame?
Had she no honor? What happened to the vows she took as a practitioner to harm none? Yet there she was, slowly killing someone that others feared because they didn't know her.
As the girl began to rock back and forth before falling completely to the floor at an awkward angle and drifting off, a noise was heard along the wall. It was muffled, but the nurse could definitely hear Subject 2165 slamming against the wall, as if that would help her friend lying prone on the ground. Which it wouldn't. Nothing would help her.
"Leave the food. Maybe when she wakes up she can eat the scraps like the dog she is," Dr. Wallace called from his safe place, pressing a button that allowed the only door to the cell to open quickly, allowing the nurse to escape. She ignored his comments, knowing full well the next time Subject 815 awoke, she would be in the cell with her, calmly trying to feed the child with a plastic spoon, to spare her what little dignity she had left.
Another bang was heard on the glass in the other cell, causing her to jerk harshly and to immediately look up into the terrifying face of a killer.
Some called her the Black Widow, others simply knew she was a merchant of death. Either way, once you were in her sights, it was never a positive outcome.
"I'm going to kill you all! Do you hear me?" Her shout was muffled by the glass, but the meaning was not lost on any of the technicians or scientists in the room. "What are you doing to her? I'm going to slaughter you all!"
Subject 2165 beat the glass again, leaving behind trails of blood that smeared across the glass almost in a pattern. The blood seemed only to enrage her further, giving her more cause the beat at the glass, which did her no good. She might have been a trained assassin, but she had no unearthly gifts that would allow her to escape from this prison. Nothing could help her. She might have also been an Avenger, but looking at the woman now, it was clear she was only a vicious killer. A demon, maybe.
With that last terrifying thought, the nurse left the holding cells and returned to her station before clocking out and heading home to her soft, warm bed in her safe home, all the while trying to ignore the stab of guilt that was lodged in her stomach.