Author's Note: Believe it not, this was inspired by the origin of Plasticman from the "Batman: The Brave and the Bold" cartoon, but there really aren't many similarities. I hope you enjoy the stories of Elena Wilkes. (:D)

'Military Installation Sweet Home'

In one short word, I can describe how indisputably government-controlled, how totally mental, how completely messed up my life has become: SHIELD. I know what you're thinking, "SHIELD is the kinda good agency, how can she think it's bad when I see HYDRA right in the title?" am I right? Well, my name is Elena Wilkes, obviously, and let me start off by saying not everything was squeaky clean at HYDRA either. I mean, yeah, I was sort of a nameless henchman who never got to do much, but that's the problem! They, like, brainwash you and you're stuck doing nothing! And the dental plan stinks! What a rip! Most people sign up for the dental plan!

I don't know. Still, there's a kind of family in HYDRA, you know? Yeah, I guess there aren't a lot of girls. I've only counted a couple of others beside me. I would never have guessed they would turn against me like that …

Hey, listen to me go on! You don't even know what happened, do you? Well, let me go back a ways, and this'll all make sense.

Names were pretty much forbidden back at the old serphant school. I went by #837. The day consisted of target practice, running through an obstacle course, and being strapped down and forced to listen to over an hour of obedience tapes and "HAIL HYDRA!" to scorch it in your brain. Some people may say it's hard to stand out in uniform, but I'm one of the few here that actually know how to take a hit! Yet I still can't get a gig … The only peace was at the lunch room or your holding cell. Still, you have to have friends. I'm not gonna lie, the girls here are whacked. A couple of guys have my back, though. #597 and #462 may be spineless, but they're cool. And they almost never hit on me …

Well, every day I meet them at lunch. The lunch room is dark like any other place here. I carried a bologna and cheese sandwich on my tray to our usual table. #597 and #462 greeted me.

#597: "Hey, #837."

Me: "I told you, call me Elena!"

#462: "Uniformity. Ain't nobody have any names around here."

Me: "Doesn't that bother you guys?"

#462: "You came to the wrong place to be independent, sister. Ever think of writing?"

#597: "Or a band!"

#462: "Nah, she couldn't pull that off. Maybe protests would be her thing? Like in the Civil Rights Movement?"

#597: "Have you seen her fight? Civil disobedience – not her thing."

Me: "Thanks, guys. You've been oh, so comforting!"

#597: "However we can help!" he grinned. After that we just finished our lunch. Soon, it was time for the obstacle course, and boy was I ready for it!

Now, let me tell you something about the run-through. We had moving walls. We had electric wires. We had a climbing rope and about 5 other devices I honestly just can't think of right now. When it's not my turn I'd just sit back and watched those babies fall! I mean, the guys go through all of this expense; you'd think less of them would be defeated by whatever super crosses their path!

The instructor blew a whistle signaled us to form a line. He walked toward the center of us, raised his hand, and provoked a thunderous "HAIL HYDRA!" from all of us. He called #352 and #627 to the course, but both of them fallen victim to the mud pit. To my terror, the instructor eyed me, moving his index finger to signal that I was next. I guess I wasn't all that afraid, but it was like being picked on in gym class. If it weren't for me being forced out of high school because of family stuff I swear I would never have joined HYDRA. To everyone's surprise, one of those high-power, second-in-command guys in our uniform entered the training area. He saluted to the instructor, followed by both of them screaming "HAIL HYDRA!" The high-power guy cleared his throat to deliver a message.

Messenger: "Instruction Officer #82, we have important news from the leaders of HYDRA. A hit has been planned on the Stark Labs to disable research and mechanical capabilities. The orchestrators insist you send your best agents available to the area."

Instructor: "That'd be necessary to get past all of the Stark technology, I suppose."

Messenger: "We need your decision within 2400 hours."

Instructor: "Very good."

And then in unison as they parted – you guessed it – "HAIL HYDRA!" All the soldiers were dismissed and we all went back to our holding cells. In each was a mattress – given a sheet, a blanket, and a pillow – with a bed stand and lamp close beside. The closest we could get to decorating was sneaking in posters. I laid on my mattress and kept thinking about the Stark mission. I wanted more than anything to be part of it. How can they leave out their most skilled agent? I waited in my cell – which I was very happy to declare that I didn't have to share – for a period that seemed like hours. I would watch the shadows move slightly. Sometimes I would make out shapes in them. One time I could've sworn I saw a dinosaur. I finally looked across to a digital clock which glared red on the wall. It said 10:00; it was time to go asleep and wake up at 4:30 in the morning. The bedtime may sound generous, but the wake-up is just cruel. I let myself drift away until I heard clanking at my chamber door.

Curiosity struck me, but I really was too tired to move. Steady rapping occurred three times before I even considered getting up. Still in my uniform, I attempted to go asleep once more. I heard mumbled whispers just beyond the metal walls. As I was straining to hear, the door to my compound was blown away by explosives. (Not a stable bunch, are they?) I threw up my arm to dodge debris and waited for the smoke to clear. Three men in HYDRA garb entered my room, one of them decorated.

Commander: "Elena Wilkes, a.k.a. #837. Your skill and dedication is required for a task at hand. Do you accept this position?"

Me: "You bet I do!"