Corrupted - The Tigris Series Book 1

Chapter Eight

December 20th, 1952

Though it was cold in the outside world, it was even colder down in the underground confidential prison in New Jersey. A man sat alone in his cell, angry, defeated, and hopeless. Though his wounds from battle had long since healed, new ones seemed to replace them every day. He had no idea how long he had been in there, and he didn't want to know. All that filled his mind was the reoccurring thought that he would never make it back home.

A woman dressed as a nurse lurked nearby, gathering all of her tools together. Her raven black hair was tied tightly in a low bun, and her pale skin shone brightly in the poorly-lit hallways. Her black heels made a clicking sound that echoed off of the walls with each step she took. She hid her eyes well, as they would be a dead giveaway that she was not meant to be there.

She carried her shiny, metal tray of syringes, needles, and scalpels down the hallways to where they kept her target. She had encountered him before, so she was confident that she would recognize him once she arrived at his cell. She kept her head low as she walked past each cell, searching for the door that she was looking for. She could see some of the inmates stare at her as she walked past with suspicious gazes. She knew that none of them recognized her, though she wasn't worried. Her mission would only take a few minutes.

The man heard the footsteps approaching from his cell, and slowly lifted his drooped head to watch and see if whoever was coming would walk past. He had enough of all of the nurses and doctors that came in to perform whatever tests they had for him. He was ready to fight for his life; for his family. He saw the woman walk by with her tray, and stop at his door.

Shit. He thought.

She entered in one swift motion, and closed the door quietly behind her without a word. She kept her back to him in order to avoid her eyes being seen. He watched her carefully, readying himself.

"So watcha gonna do to me this time?" he questioned, standing up from his small, metal bed. "Y'all ain't gonna stick me with those no more."

The woman finished preparing her syringe, and held it firmly in her right hand as she slowly turned around to reveal herself. As soon as her bright golden eyes met with his deep brown ones, he felt himself be overcome with a wave of fear.

"You-" he rasped.

She kicked him harshly in the chest, sending him flying backwards against the wall behind him with a hard thud. Before he could recover, she viciously swung her claws across his face, causing him to fall to the ground just in front of his bed. He yelled out in pain, holding his now bleeding face in his hand as he looked up fearfully at the one of the two people he had hoped to never see again. She knelt over him, threateningly, and stabbed the syringe into his ribcage. He screamed in pain as the needle penetrated directly in between two of his rib bones. His voice echoed throughout the halls of the prison, though no one payed any mind. For everyone here, this was normal. No one was coming to save him.

She emptied the syringe into his system then threw it to the side, looking into his eyes as he began to grow weaker. She slowly stood up once she was sure that the poison was taking affect, and turned to collect the scalpel from the tray. She held the small blade delicately in her hands, and turned to face him once again.

"W-what are you gonna d-do to me?" he rasped, trying desperately hard to fight off the poison and stay awake.

She knelt over him once again, ignoring his question, and lifted his shirt up just enough to reveal his lower abdomen. He continued to lie still, as the poison made it impossible for him to move. His breath hitched ever so slightly, fearing what was to come. He knew that she was with Hydra; he didn't even want to think about what they would want with him.

She brought the small blade down onto his skin, and sliced a clean line down towards his pant line. He let out small huffs of pain, unable to let out the scream he had done previously. Once she was satisfied with the incision, she reached into her pocket for a small device the size of a pill, and placed it inside of the cut. He groaned at the pain, trying desperately to move anything he could to try and escape. His body felt like it weighed as much as a ton of bricks, while also feeling like bolts of electricity was running through his veins in the most painful way imaginable. None of what he had ever gone through before was as painful as this.

The golden-eyed woman then took one of the sewing needles, and got a roll of medical string from one of her pockets. She quickly tied the string onto the needle, and began to carelessly, but professionally sew the wound shut. He made many grunting noises as the needle penetrated his skin again, and again, and again. Tears filled his eyesight, and he felt them start to fall down his cheeks one by one. He wished for nothing but for the pain to stop. He thought of home, and how good it would feel for him to see his family again. He wondered if they missed him as much as he missed them.

The woman finished the last stitch, then stood once more to collect another syringe from the tray. Unlike the last one, it was empty. She turned around once again once it was ready, and slowly knelt back down beside the man. He stared up at her with fearful, tear-stained eyes, muttering silent prayers to himself. The woman looked back down at him, almost feeling sympathy for the poor man; though, she had a poison of her own that she was dealing with.

"Hydra wants to thank you, Mr. Bradley, for your cooperation." she rasped, lowly.

Before he could make any sort of response, she had already punctured the needle into his arm, and began to fill the syringe with his blood. He huffed ever so quietly, beginning to fall unconscious from the pain. Once the bottle of the syringe was full, she pulled the needle back out, and grabbed a small glass container in the shape of a tube from another of her pockets. She filled it with the man's blood until the syringe emptied, and placed it back onto the tray while also placing the small glass tube in one of the little pouches on her tactical belt.

Isaiah looked up at her weakly as he began to fall further and further into darkness. "W. . . what did. . . what did. . . " he whispered.

The woman turned around with her tray in her hands, and stepped backwards towards the door. "Hail Hydra."

And with that, the Tigris was gone without a trace.