Well, here it is. Prologue! Sorry if it's boring. :P

Oh, and I'm referring to H.Y.D.R.A. as Hydra, cause the first way is hard to spell out, and also my spell check says its wrong and other stuff, yeah it's annoying. So H.Y.D.R.A. = Hydra.

Also, this is a flashback sort of thing, so it's in past tense. I write in present tense, and I haven't written in past tense for a while, so it's kind of messy. :/ Sorry! The next chapter will be better, promise.

Oh, but bad news…my parents decided to restrict me on the computer, like, a lot. I may not even be able to go on during the week, and if I do, it'll be really quick. So updates will come veeeery slowly, so sorry! Hopefully I can get more time soon…

I was walking through a dark alley like any other day when I heard it.

Someone was sitting among the trash bags to my left, and they were moving a lot. I instinctively charge up my hands and cautiously advance on the pile. "Hello?"

When no one answers, I back away, begin to feel uneasy.

"Help…" I hear a soft voice come from the mound of trash.

I step forward skeptically, increasing the voltage of my power.

I lean down to see if I can spot who is stuck.

Suddenly there's a sting on the back of my neck. I gasp and feel around, finding a dart.

Then I fall into dark sleep for the first time in years.

I wake up about ten minutes later. My body aches, and I feel tired and sluggish. I leap up immediately, remembering what happened. I look wildly around the room, only finding darkness. Where am I?

I see a faint shaft of light in one of the corners. I walk quickly over, and see there's a think crack in the wall. I peer through it.

The only thing I can see is a big Hydra symbol on the wall outside of wherever I am.

"Well…shit."

~2 months later~

I was lying on the ground again, trying to will my wounds to close once more. When nothing happened as usual, I sighed in aggravation and charged my hands up. As soon as they were just right, I pressed my hands against my chest and shocked myself, over and over again. It didn't hurt, but I still narrowed my red eyes in concentration, trying to keep the pulses steady enough to heal me. It worked to some extent; the wounds scabbed over, but that's it.

I sighed and prepared to sit in my cell for another 12 sleepless hours until they retrieved me.

Then a shaft on the ceiling of my power-immune prison cell opened up. Something dark and limp fell out, landing on the floor with a heavy thump.

The other shafts open, and the same thing happens. A bunch more times.

I stalk carefully over to the first lump, my vicious features purposely blank, and my hands charged up and ready.

I reach the thing, and it doesn't move. I turn to its other side, and I realize what it is, and what's going on.

It's a person.