"Aaaaaaah!"
The scream echoed, piercing through the small cell, and an animalized guard glanced in, unfazed.
"If he keeps this up, he'll lose his mind," one of the guards muttered, sounding more annoyed than concerned.
They had mastered this technique of "education." The confinement method was their specialty—locking up captives for days at a time until they emerged broken, their will weakened. For hardened soldiers, it was routine. But for a high school student like Pietro? They didn't want to push him too far, lest he suffer a complete breakdown.
After a few more screams, the door creaked open, and Pietro was dragged out, blinking in the sunlight. For a brief, blissful moment, he felt a surge of hope at seeing the sky again—until they set upon him once more.
"Why…?" he gasped as a blow connected with his jaw, knocking out a tooth. His face throbbed with pain as he crumpled to the ground.
"Give him some bread and water. Tomorrow, we start again."
The guards' words echoed as Pietro was shoved back into his cell, where stale bread and a bottle of water were tossed at his feet before the iron door clanged shut.
Lying on the cold, damp ground, he stared weakly at the provisions before him. His body shook uncontrollably, his stomach hollow with hunger. Forcing down the nausea rising in his throat, he grabbed the bread, stuffing it into his mouth, his body demanding fuel despite the stale taste and crumbs that scratched his throat raw.
When he had finished, he lay there, his heart heavy. Why was this happening? What had he done to deserve this?
"Will Wanda even know I'm gone?" he whispered, hope flickering dimly. But he soon realized the futility. Even if Wanda noticed his absence, what could she do? Report him missing? The police had too many cases of disappearances to care about one more.
Trapped in his despair, he shivered on the hard floor, wondering if this would be his life now.
---
A few days later, in Zod's laboratory, Wanda entered, looking distraught.
"Mr. Heath, Pietro is missing!" Wanda's voice trembled with worry.
Zod turned to her, surprised. He hadn't expected Wanda to come all the way to his lab. "Wanda?"
It seemed Uuld had tried to stop her, yet here she was, desperate enough to seek Zod's help.
"Please, help me, Mr. Heath. I'll do anything—pay any price." Wanda's voice was filled with determination.
Zod noticed the resolute glint in her eyes. She was prepared to sacrifice whatever she had. He raised a brow, a bit exasperated as he caught the unspoken implication. Though Zod was known for his restraint and self-discipline, Wanda, like many young women he'd assisted, seemed to think his intentions were… less than noble.
Zod sighed, recognizing that his aversion to trivial relationships had led to all sorts of misinterpretations. "Just because I have standards doesn't mean I'm interested in 'developing' anyone, Wanda," he thought to himself, barely hiding his irritation.
"The real question is—why did you wait so long to ask for my help?" he asked aloud.
Wanda hesitated. "I didn't want to trouble you... At first, I called the police, but they told me to wait. And days went by with no response, so… I had no other choice."
Zod called for Uuld. "Bring a coat for Wanda. And for the record, there's no need for such desperation, Wanda. I'll take care of this."
Uuld quickly appeared, handing Wanda a warm jacket.
"Mr. Heath, I… really, I can…" Wanda tried to insist, grasping at anything she could offer in return.
But before she could continue, Zod gently pressed a finger to her forehead. "Wanda, go home. Leave this matter to adults who can handle it."
With a nod, Uuld guided her to the door.
"Don't worry," she whispered to Wanda. "When Mr. Heath says he'll handle something, he means it. There's nothing he can't do."