Chapter 1
Asset
Faint pops gently made their way through the air, gradually increases in volume as the minutes ticked by. It’s gunfire, the Asset thought faintly as he stared at the cement wall that stood steadily in front of him. With each round of gunfire that approached his cell, a part of him twitched.
A finger. A wrist. A shoulder. An eye.
His eyes slowly scrunched shut as pain started to build behind his eyes. The Asset could not understand why it was feeling pain, as it had not made harsh physical contact with anything or anyone in weeks. Any contact really. He started to curl forward, his arms wrapping around his waist.
Suddenly the room shook, and the door blasted inward. The Asset whipped his head up to see the now wide-open entrance to his cell, his eyes wide.
Captain America
Steve slipped into the room through the doorway that Stark had just blown open. It was a cement room like most of the room in the facility but there was no paint or decoration of any kind. His eyes settled on the only thing in the room that had any relevance.
It was a man, no, it was a kid. A teenager. The kid had pale skin and moles littered what skin that Steve could see. His hair was brown and long enough to reach his shoulders. The teen was wearing a black t-shirt and black sweatpants. Why would Hydra have a teenager held captive in their facility? He lowered his shield and decided on his course of action. “I’ve got a kid down here,” he spoke into the comm link to the rest of the Avengers, “He is in a cell in the lower level.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Cap? He could be dangerous, especially if Hydra was keeping him locked up.” Romanoff replied. Steve neglected to reply as he noticed that the kid was also looking at him.
He slowly approached the wide-eyed young man, slowly raising his hands to show that he meant no harm but keeping himself mentally prepared if the kid attacked. He stopped a few feet away from the cement bench the teen was sitting on.
“Hey there, are you alright? My names Steve, and my friends and I are here to help, okay? What’s you name?” he questioned.
Nothing but silence was heard as the kid continued to just stare at him with those wide, brown, doe eyes. Then he heard the clink of metal in concrete entering the room behind him, and the kid’s eyes shot to the doorway and his eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of the red and gold of Stark’s suit.
“What you like the red, white, and blue but discriminate against a better, and more original color combo? Someone is definitely an American.” Stark joked and the boy tensed up as if getting ready to fight.
The buzz of the millionaires suit gearing up to fight came from behind him, and right when Steve thought that he was going to have to fight the kid or at least calm him down before a fight could start, the boy winced and hunched over gripping at his head.
The young man gave a pained grunt and curled in tight to himself, as he was trying to protect himself from the pain, to make it stop. Concerned, Steve rushed forward and gently placed his hands on the teens shoulders and seeing that the teen seemed to be in too much pain to acknowledge him, shifted his grip to pick him up bridal style, cradled to his chest. He vaguely heard the suit powering down from combat mode.
“We need to get him to the hospital.” Steve stated.
Tony retracted the face plate and eyed the kid, “Or maybe he needs a psychiatric facility? Who would want to fight me? Even if he is a part of Hydra, why fight me when the mortal enemy of your organization is already in front of you?” Steve sighed, and if his hands weren’t full, he would’ve been rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Tony.”
“Alright, alright. Cap knows best, right? Let’s blow this popsicle stand, S.H.I.E.L.D. can handle it from here anyways.” Tony relented. Then he said into the comm link, “Hey, prepare for lift off, bird-boy. The rest of you, get to the Quinn jet.” Affirmations came from the rest of the team as they started to head up the stairs to get to ground level. The kid still seemed to be in pain, but Steve couldn’t see anything that would suggest why, but he carried on nevertheless and finally they reached the Quinn jet just after the others.
“Where to, Captain?” Barton asked as he closed the entrance of the Quinn jet and started the engines.
“He needs medical attention, but because we found him in a Hydra base, we are going to have to leave him with S.H.I.E.L.D. medical.” Steve stated as he gently laid the boy on the med bed in the Quinn jet.
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Barton smirked.
Bruce approached Steve, “I could take a look at him to see if there is anything I can help with until we get him to a proper medical team.” He offered.
Steve nodded with gratitude and stepped back a little for Bruce to kneel next to the boy but kept close enough so that if the kid started to freak out, he would be there. He noticed that Natasha had taken a seat but was sitting on the edge of her seat and keeping focused on the boy that lay curled up in pain. Steve glanced around the rest of the room. Thor while casting a curious glance seemed to not be too concerned with the presence of the boy and continued to chat with Barton. Barton was focused on piloting the jet and there for didn’t put much attention on the new face on board. Tony had put away the suit for now and was busy doing something on his tablet. Sam was still in the process of taking off and stowing away his own gear.
He turned his gaze back to Bruce and the kid. His eyes widened once he realized the kid was unconscious.
“Is he...!” Steve started.
“He seems to have passed out, but his pulse is strong so I wouldn’t be quite worried yet.” Bruce placated him. Steve sighed with relief and wiped his face with his hand. He sat down across from the brunette teen and leaned his elbows on his knees, watching the kid as he lay on the med bed. Dread weighed down his shoulders as he took the time to really look the kid over. He couldn’t be more than 20 years old, but scars littered the boy’s arms. Scars that Steve recognized as caused in fights, but also scars that were around his wrist that came with being tied up forcefully. The fact that this teen, who should be happy and having fun with his friends or family somewhere, was being held captive in a Hydra facility having god knows what done to him… it hurt to think about.
The entire flight to D.C., Steve never looked away from the kid, because he reminded him so much of Bucky.
Asset
The last he remembered was the pain in his head as flashes came and went behind his eyelids, arms carrying him, and the warmth of someone that felt safe. But as the asset slowly awoke, mind slow for the moment and body aching, he couldn’t remember what the images were, but he knew that they were important. A mission? No. Something else…
His eyes opened slowly, the bright lights above him momentarily blinding him. Lolling his head to the side noticing white walls, a heart and EKG monitor, an IV with a line leading to him… The asset blinked as the fog lifted from his mind and he shot up from his reclined position.
This… this was not the facility. The facility had concrete walls and tiled floors in the infirmary. There were no windows in there, but the view of the city that the asset had, spoke to the fact that there was a window in this room. He stood from the bed slowly and removed the IV and monitor connectors from his person as he approached the window.
Blue skies, white clouds, grey building, reflective building, buildings of all sorts of colors and shapes side by side lay for his eyes to observe. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a city, or if he had ever seen a city so big. He was marveled by the sight.
The click of the doorknob turning startled him, and he whipped around arms lifting and hands curling into loose fists, ready to fight the perceived threat. The nurse that had just entered glanced up and froze at the sight of him, and his hands lowered slightly seeing her and watching as she slowly backed right back out of the room. He blinked and them lowered his fists completely.
The Asset heard the lock on the door engage and his eyes narrowed, hospitals doors aren’t supposed to have locks on the doors. Why did he know that? He shook his head and eyed the door before determining that it was too strong to try and break open, turning to the window he realized that it was not designed to open. He glanced down and noted that he was probably on the 6th floor. It was high, but doable.
Using the sheet from the bed, he wrapped his hand and then punched the glass, and while it did crack it did not break. Bullet proof windows then, definitely not a hospital. A second and third punch were delivered, and the window finally broke on the third.
As he removed the sheet from his hand, he heard a yell from beyond the door and running footsteps. Realizing that time for an escape was running out he hopped onto the window sill and prepared himself to jump just as the door burst open.
He looked over his shoulder at the intruder and then froze. It was a man and a woman, the woman he didn’t recognize but he did recognize the man. The man was the one that took him from the cell, the one that… helped him? This time though, he wasn’t wearing the American flag get-up, instead he was wearing a white shirt that seemed to be struggling to not rip as it covered the plains of his chest and some jeans. The red headed woman he didn’t recognize, though he felt a niggle in the back of his mind that said, yes, yes you do know her.
The man’s hands raised, to show that he meant no harm, and he spoke.
“Woah there, it’s okay. Your safe here. Just step off the ledge, okay? There is no need to do anything extreme.” The Asset could tell that the blonde was trying to speak as soothingly as possible, but he didn’t understand why. Then a scene sprouted from his mind, a woman standing on a ledge and a man in a police uniform trying to coax her away from it, and the feeling of hurt and rejection filled his chest at the memory.
Wait…
Memory?
And as he returned to the present, he saw another man with short hair and a suit on enter the room, and with no thought whatsoever his mouth opened.
“Uncle Phil?” he croaked.
“Mieczyslaw…” Phil breathed.