This is set immediately after The Winter Solider, in the small warehouse which is sort of a make shift S.H.E.I.L.D.

I do not own any of Marvels characters, title nor story. Rated K

LJ

(Prologue) Steve Rogers POV

Furry was holding a beige, tethered folder (more familiarly, an old military folder) between his thumbs and fingers before he motioned for me to sit, resting it gently on the table and sliding it across the table.

"You look like you need to sit down." He said in monotone voice, seemingly unfazed as always.

Through the look in his face I could tell my questioning gaze was slightly disappointing, having him recently consider me a trusted ally – and considering Furry never trusted anyone.

I half smiled and headed towards the chair. "Sir, it's been a long day."

He smiled downward before looking upwards through his eyebrows with and an intense seriousness, which was sort of empathetic at the same time. "I'm afraid - it's about to get significantly longer."

"Well, I didn't expect it to get shorter." I said half surprised.

Nudging the folder once more my way, Fury spoke with formal intensity. "Now- this is all looks like mindless monkey business but the last time we overlooked something we almost had a world catastrophe."

With potential threat looming, I knew I wouldn't be surprised if I'd found the hydra symbol printed on the first page. To my un – surprise it was.

Perplexed, I looked up to Furry. "I thought all of the Hydra projects were shut down, burned –

"- This one was salvaged from the wreckage in New Jersey, turns out you and Romanoff turned over more than you bargained for."

Once more I slowly turned my attention the folder, becoming more and more anxious at the content. Turning one of the burnt pages I found myself wincing at the obscure images. People – or what I assumed were people were frozen in cylinder containers, the reflection of the glass making their skin appear blue. Their faces emotionless, blank. A handful of hydra associates were congregating. Several pages in there were clippings of ancient scripts and drawings of unhuman figures, before I could ask what language most of it was written in, Furry had noticed my creasing brows.

"Most of it is written in old Latin, a dead language, though from the images, it seems Schmidt was funding another project of his interest."

"So Schmidt's was working on other projects as well as the cube?" I inquire.

"Possibly and maybe of Asgardian origin, from what we've translated, we're calling it superstition."

This time, I really looked at the ancient paintings of the figures, the attributes representing figures that have always been part of stories and legends, haunting icons, make – believe. Though, if recent events are anything to go by – nothing is above suspicion.

"Lamia and Lupus homine."

I raised my eyebrow at Fury in confusion. "Er, sir, I don't understand that reference."

Fury seemed unamused, more - apprehensive as he leant back in his chair, exhaustion present on his face. "To us – vampire… and werewolf."