The Raft.

Amelia had heard of it, but never in a thousand years did she think she'd be detained within its cold walls. They were scared of her, and it seemed Ross was unwilling to take any chances with this Enhanced human. Amelia was a prisoner, kept like all the other residents of the Raft, isolated in a cell. On the off chance she managed to avoid the video and audio surveillance, shed the the reinforced straight jacket pinning her arms, or the negation collar suppressing her abilities, Amelia would have to get through shatter proof, bulletproof glass, a hall filled with armed guards, several feet of reinforced steel, and however many miles of water before she'd even reach fresh air. There was no telling how far the Raft was from land or if she could survive long enough to reach it.

As far as maximum security prisons, went... The Raft was pretty efficient.

It was hard to tell how long she'd been there. There was no concept of night or day in the bowels of the submerged prison. The guards rotated but none of them were willing to speak to Amelia, let alone hold up a calendar for her to peruse. The time dragged tediously onward and Amelia was certain she was going to lose her mind sitting in a cell day after day, hugging herself and waiting for a chance to escape. But Ross's men were careful. They didn't make mistakes. Amelia was trapped, and she was alone.

Over the passing days (weeks?) a few others were brought in to occupy the surrounding cells but no one bothered her. Some screamed. Some pleaded, like she had at the beginning. A few cried themselves to sleep at night. But none of them spoke to each other. Amelia alone would sit in the corner of her cell and as the lights went out in the block and sing until there was silence, her low, sweet voice resounding off the high metal ceiling. It was just a way to pass the time, Amelia's way to sooth herself. Eventually the screaming and the pleading from the other cells stopped.

The crying usually didn't.

Laughter was the last thing Amelia expected to hear on the Raft. A slew of guards ushered in a small crew that had nothing but grins and smirks for each other and Ross's men as they were led to individual cells. Amelia watched from behind her glass in awe. Those were faces she recognized and names she'd only ever read about in books. Amelia could not believe the Avengers were being detained. There were more of them, weren't there? Ironman, of course. The Thunder god. The Hulk. Wasp. The Wakandan prince and the Black Knight. Where was Carol? And Captain America?

Amelia shivered.

A guard slammed his nightstick against the glass and glared. Amelia must have been showing too much interest for his liking. Bright eyed, mind whirring, she pressed herself into the corner and stayed silent.

She was almost certain this handful of Earth's mightiest heroes didn't realize they weren't alone on the block. Amelia listened to them talk quietly amongst themselves. Discussing the 'good old days' when being an Avenger was easy. The fight that had gotten them tossed into the Raft in the first place. Amicably teasing each other. She smiled at their playful banter, their bravery in the face of the unknown. They seemed so young. Most of them were older than Amelia but they weren't the wise and seasoned protectors of justice she'd read about a hundred times over. They were just... People.

A man appeared one day. Not a guard. His face so painfully familiar that Amelia stopped breathing as he stood in the center of the cellblock, smiling. It wasn't the smile she was used to. It was kind instead of cruel. Warm and open. His tepid blue eyes scanned the cells, almost amused. She knew him on sight and Amelia let out a small ghost of a whisper. "Rogers."

Captain America. The real Captain America. Steve Rogers, born in nineteen-twenty. More Avengers missions under his belt than any of them. The very first Avenger... His list of accomplishments was a lengthy one and Amelia watched, totally star struck, as he performed a jail break in the world's most secure prison. One by one, the cells were opened and the occupants were freed.

Clint barton stepped out, stretching and grinning. "Took ya long enough, Cap."

"I took the scenic route," Steve answered with a lazy smile and released the second cage.

Scott Lang stumbled out looking dishevelled and supremely grateful. "Wow. Captain America just saved me. You are saving us, right? I mean, this looks like you're saving us but... Ya know what? I'm gonna shut up now." Scott staggered off with a delighted, "Arrow guy!"

Amelia let out a small gasp when Sam Wilson strode out of the next cell. The Falcon himself. "Knew you were coming," he told Steve, hugging the man before releasing him and walking over to the cell between his own and Amelia's. "Jesus. You alright, Wanda?"

"I would be better out of this cage." A slightly accented voice was muffled by the glass. Steve and Sam hurriedly opened the last cell and Wanda Maximoff was helped out. Like Amelia, Wanda was wrapped in a straight jacket, a negation collar tight at her throat. Both men quickly undid the straps that pinned Wanda's arms and as the sleeves fell slack, she shook the the garment away. "Thank you."

Sam was examining the collar, clearly confused. "Is this thing one solid piece? How..."

"It's an inhibitor," Amelia hadn't meant to speak up and when all eyes were suddenly on her, she took a nervous step back from the glass. "It's, uh... Well, it keeps her from accessing her powers. The tech is weird but it's easy enough to bypass if you know how."

Steve Rogers casually walked up to the glass, warm blue eyes examining Amelia like she was a critter in a zoo. Of all the people in the room, he was the last one Amelia wanted looking at her but she stared back, her own dusty blue eyes fixed on his face. It was unnerving. Familiar and wrong all at a same time. "And do you know how?" he asked with a small gesture at Wanda's collar.

"Get me out. And I'll get her out." There was no supplication in Amelia's tone. Just impulsivity, as though the thought had only just struck her. "I can get her collar off if you take me with you."

Sam turned his back to Amelia's cell, speaking quietly. "We don't know her. We can't be sure she doesn't deserve to be here."

"No one deserves to be in a place like this," Clint came over to stand with the others and slung an around Wanda's shoulders. "Were you the one singing all those nights?" he asked. He had a nice smile. Friendly. Goofy. Not like his overly attractive teammates. He was just a guy and Amelia nodded, looking at him instead of the others gathered in front of her cell. "How'd you get in here, sweetheart?"

Amelia huffed. "Wrong place. Wrong time. Ross doesn't like Enhanced, especially when they disrupt his golf game." It wasn't the whole truth but it was enough of it. Maybe Sam and Steve could sense that Amelia wasn't being entirely honest. Their eyes were searching for something as they stared at her through the glass.

"Let her out." Wanda spoke up for her and Amelia almost smiled.

Steve paused, considering her intently before he released the cell door. Amelia stepped out cautiously. "Don't make me regret that..."

"Mia," she answered. Hands were at her back helping to unbuckle the straight jacket. "You can call me Mia."

"Mia..."

Her name on Steve Rogers' lips made her flinch but she hid it, shrugging off the straitjacket and kicking it away. "Thank you," she said quietly. Her arms ached after being held immobile for so long. She rotated her shoulders with a grimace. "They have my stuff. I could try to crack the collars without them but it will be way more difficult."

"Yeah, they have my stuff too!" Scott piped up. He grinned at Amelia, eyes sweeping over her curiously. "You're so tiny. Why were they scared of you?"

Mia smirked. "Same reason they're scared of you when you're tiny."

Sam's eyes narrowed. The girl didn't seem particularly threatening but she seemed to know a thing or two about them. Like who Scott was and what he could do. And how did she know about the fancy tech choking off Wanda's powers? He had questions but there wasn't time to ask a single one. "Gonna need to get my wings, too, Steve. Is there a plan?"

There was a reckless glint in Steve's eyes. "We ask nicely," he said simply.

"And when they start shooting?" Clint asked. The smile on the man's face hinted he already knew the answer.

Steve headed toward the door. "We ask less nicely."