Part 1: Four Years Later
Summary:
Riven has been detained for four long years. Tortured, drugged, tested endlessly. His body has grown stronger, more resilient — but sedation has kept his strength chained. His telekinesis remains unstable, under-tested. Then he hears something. A guard. A whisper. Captain America leaked everything. Hydra's days are numbered. And in desperation, they push him one last time… and this time, they go too far.
---
He didn't know what day it was.
He didn't know what year it was either—
Until he overheard a voice he wasn't supposed to hear.
> "—it's a mess. That fuckin' Rogers uploaded everything. Every file, every name. Hydra's done."
> "Shut the hell up," another voice whispered. "Walls have ears."
They thought he couldn't hear.
They were wrong.
---
It had been four years.
Four years of being broken, burned, stabbed, frozen, dissected, drowned, shocked.
Four years of his muscles ripping and rebuilding, of bones snapping and mending faster than human should.
Not instant. Not like magic.
Just… faster.
Adapted.
Evolved.
Pushed.
---
They called it progress.
He called it hell.
---
But there was something else too.
Something inside his skull.
A weight behind the eyes.
A pressure he could feel every time he tried to sleep.
Every time someone screamed from the hallway.
Every time they mentioned the word "weapon."
He couldn't control it.
Could barely feel it half the time.
But he knew it was there.
Telekinetic activity.
Not random anymore.
It responded to pain.
To rage.
To fear.
---
Then came the day they brought in the children.
Three of them.
Two boys. One girl.
All sedated. All quiet.
All maybe ten or eleven years old.
And Riven knew what this was.
---
> "Final event test," said the tech. "Extreme provocation. Potential ignition threshold."
They didn't hide it anymore.
Hydra was dying.
They were desperate.
So they wanted to see the bomb explode.
---
He was strapped upright in his chair now.
Chest bound. Ankles locked.
Needles in his spine.
He couldn't move.
He could only watch.
---
> "Don't—"
His voice cracked.
Dry. Weak. But loud.
> "Don't fucking touch them."
---
The guards ignored him.
The first boy was injected.
His body seized.
Riven screamed.
> "STOP!"
No one did.
---
The second boy.
He was awake for it.
Eyes wide. Terrified.
He choked on his own breath before the convulsions stopped him.
Riven roared.
> "FUCK YOU! YOU FUCKING MONSTERS! I'LL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU—!"
He pulled at the restraints.
Veins bulged. Muscles swelled under the strain.
The chair groaned.
---
Then they turned to the girl.
The youngest.
Still half-asleep, murmuring.
The handler raised the needle.
---
> "No—"
Riven's throat was raw.
He could barely breathe.
> "Please…"
> "Just one more," the tech said. "See what he does."
---
And Riven—
snapped.
---
Not like rage.
Like something ancient clawing its way out.
The walls rippled.
The floor cracked.
The tray of tools lifted and slammed against the mirrored wall—shattering it.
A guard stumbled back.
> "What the fuck—!?"
Another raised his weapon.
Didn't fire.
He was already in the air.
Slammed against the ceiling like a rag doll.
---
The technician turned—
The syringe flew out of his hand, reversed midair—
And drove into his own neck.
---
The alarms started screaming.
Glass shattered.
The chair holding Riven split at the base, bolted steel bending like plastic.
He stood.
Wobbling.
Bleeding.
Eyes wild.
Hands trembling.
And his voice…
Soft.
Shaking.
"You killed them."
---
He turned toward the remaining guard.
The man dropped his rifle and ran.
Didn't make it two steps.
---
Riven didn't move his hand.
Didn't blink.
The man's skull collapsed inward with a thunderclap.
He fell face-first into the blood already spreading.
---
And behind it all, the little girl still sat there.
Alive.
Crying.
He stepped forward—
Unsteady. Hurt.
But awake.
And the building?
Was about to learn what awakening really meant.
---