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"Don't move."
"Colonel," Pietro whines. "That's asking so much of me."
Zemo's stare is unimpressed. He continues to secure his wrists to the chair, ordering a guard to do the same for his feet. Bound in the chair, Pietro feels helpless for the first time since the experiment.
"What is this meant to test?" he questions.
"If you are to carry information for us, you must be prepared for capture." Zemo looks far too invested in this. "Restraints are a simple measure."
"Which I can break out of." He strains. Nothing. "In time."
"I am simply putting you through the tests I myself was put through," Zemo continues. "Restraint. Confinement. Interrogation."
"Interrogation?" Pietro repeats. "Confinement? Have you not confined me and my sister enough?"
Zemo shrugs. "Perhaps we'll skip that stage. Perhaps not."
"I would prefer to test my speed."
"I do not give a shit what you would prefer. You want to be useful, don't you, boy?" Zemo leans over him. "If you are going to be useful, it would be stupid of us to send you out into the world without ensuring you can keep your tongue in your mouth."
"Fuck you." Pietro tugs back, but he's stuck, and that's the only way, he's convinced, that Zemo manages to slap him. "Fuck you."
"I will give you an opportunity to consider your position. If you change your mind about your dedication and loyalty here, I will release you. Let me know."
And then he is alone.
The bastard lied, but then he is used to that. Pietro is confined to this room, not his own room, and somehow that is more difficult than his usual solitary confinement, away from his sister. There are no visitors here, of course. Though he had hoped that, perhaps, Strucker would stop by, even if to observe, but there is no sign of that.
The worst part of the confinement, as it always is, is how long it lasts. An hour is not simply an hour now. It is a stretch of solitude which drives him mad. Without movement, with only the space to jig his leg and flex his fingers, he is a ball of frustration long before that first hour is up.
His one advantage is that they cannot starve him, and they know his powers require frequent sustenance. The guard Zemo sends is reluctant to feed him, but more reluctant to release one of his hands, so Pietro becomes a toddler once more, spoonfed his food while arguing his case to someone who will not listen.
The problem with experiencing everything so slowly compared to everyone else is that time is no longer simple to track. He has no indication of how much time passes after that first hour, because there is no sign of anything else. There is no clock. The guards are not in the room, so he cannot track their breaks. His only assumption is that the meals will be done at predictable times, except before the second visit he's already resorted to pure ranting at the door. The door that mocks him, so close and yet so far.
"Petro, save your breath." Zemo's voice over a speaker. "You will dehydrate yourself."
"Pietro! It is Pietro! Release me and I will keep my mouth shut for as long as I care to," he says, realising halfway through his sentence that he cannot promise to keep quiet for any length of time. Not just because he can't track it, but because he simply never has been able to.
"Have you decided yet?"
"I am dedicated to Sokovia. But this is unnecessary."
"I think it is very necessary, and as—" Pietro starts talking over him, but he can still hear Zemo continue. "—your trainer and the authority here on what our enemies will do to you were they to capture you, I believe it fundamental to your training. Will you shut up and listen?"
"No." But he does.
"You will not survive capture for long if you are unable to preserve your energy for escape. Consider that. I will ensure you are fed again, and then I will restart the timer."
"Restart?! You have got to be kidding me."
"Think only on how you will escape. Preserve your energy. We will see how long you last, and when it is satisfactory, I will return you to your room."
He lied again, but he's rather used to that.
It takes four attempts before Pietro finally lasts through the restrained confinement period long enough that Zemo returns in person.
The Colonel looks unimpressed. He's also used to that.
"You still have not managed in freeing any limb," Zemo says critically.
"Are you serious? How am I meant to break out of this?" Pietro snaps, balling up his fists.
"You are stronger and more durable than I am, but you are so stupid." Zemo sighs. "First, you could break your hands—"
"I am not letting you break any more bones," Pietro says.
"—to release them. However, your first fault came when I was restraining you. You should have done better in making it difficult to restrain you."
"You told me not to move!"
"When do you ever do as you are told?" Zemo returns.
Point taken, Pietro glares instead.
"The chair is your weak point. It is wooden. Use your strength or speed to knock yourself over, break one of the arms, and you will have some mobility again."
"Bullshit."
"You have smashed enough wood in your training to know it is possible."
"I can't move my legs in order to—"
"Your body! You have a body!" Zemo snaps. "Rock. Side to side. Diagonally, horizontally, fucking vertically."
Pietro stares at him blankly.
"Any way you want," Zemo corrects himself. "I forget you are uneducated as well as simply stupid."
The insult rankles him, which he knows it is designed to, and just to prove a point against him, Pietro does as he's meant to. While he relies most on his legs and feet for his speed, it is easy to activate it just in his body, which enables him not just to break an arm off, but also one of the supporting pieces of the back, allowing him to move freely instead of feeling like he's been nailed to the chair.
"You see?" Zemo says. "Easy."
"Maybe you could have led with the lesson?" Pietro says angrily.
"But where is the fun in that?"
"This is not fun. At all."
"Besides, you had to experience true confinement."
"You have confined me to a cell for months."
"I have not."
"Fine. They have. I know what it's like to be locked in a room on my own! We've seen that. Have you not seen enough of that? You still won't let me be with my sister."
Zemo shrugs. "It is not my decision."
"I'm sick of these— don't walk away from me!"
Zemo sticks his middle finger up. "I will be back when you are done ranting. Perhaps you can even escape your restraints by then."
The door closes, leaving him to yell uselessly at it again.