A/N: This is a bit of a departure for me, in that I've never done a Marvel fanfic before, but it seemed to be the best fit for this character concept I'd dreamt up many moons ago. I'm going to do my best to keep it within the Marvel Cinematic Universe (Expanded) but the timing of things is a little wonky. Any slippage we'll just call AU. If I seriously mess things up (for example, I haven't seen past season one of Agents of SHIELD or finished the Daredevil Netflix series yet) then by all means call me out on it and I'll fix it if I can.

Standard Disclaimer: All rights belong to those whose rights they belong to, primarily Marvel, though quite namely not me. Don't own a thing aside from my OCs.


Unchained

Detroit. Five years ago.

Chris Martin walked home at the end of the day with his head bowed and hands stuffed into his pockets. It was an unusual stance for the tall and lanky man as he was typically full of vigor and strode down the urban street with his shaved head held high and on a swivel, scanning his environment for threats. On this particular day, however, he was burdened by a number of things which might carry momentous implications for his future.

The walk from the inner-city dojo that he owned to the apartment building that he and his family resided in took about a half hour on a normal day. As he shuffled past scattered refuse and oily puddles of unidentifiable liquid, he thought that it might take a bit longer than that this evening. Hopefully he would be able to put the time to good use.

He'd owned his school for defensive arts for about four years. Each subsequent season had shown a steady decline in income. Residents of the city stopped going out so much which meant fewer clients. Why bother with self-defense classes when it was cheaper and more effective to simply purchase a gun or stay home?

Chris snorted to himself softly in frustration. He'd tried to take a more holistic approach to personal safety, helping his students understand that mental discipline and strength was just as important as the physical. The bulk of his students were women who had enough of being a victim, had been assaulted in the past and no longer felt safe walking the streets, or even wanted the fortitude to reject the unwanted advanced of former boyfriends. The reasons were as various as their backgrounds and temperaments. He had a few more dedicated students who practiced their Kendo sword forms with him, but they alone weren't enough to keep his dojo afloat.

The cocoa-skinned man shook his head wearily. So many people he'd managed to help, but he just couldn't keep this up for much longer. Within a month he'd have to close up shop unless something miraculous happened. His wife made enough money in her retail store management position for them to survive, a rarity for inner-city folk nowadays, but he wanted to make his two little daughters proud. Wanted to be able to walk with his head held high again.

Wanted to feel important again.

Granted, if he was still holding his face upwards he would have quickly realized that his path had led him towards an ambush. Some long-buried instinct from his stint in the Army caused him to stop and belatedly snap his eyes forward where three men were arranged to block his path not ten feet from him. He paused to look them over curiously.

They were dressed head to toe in black clothing, including combat boots and masks. Not even their eyes were visible behind the dark goggles.

As they withdrew glowing batons from their belts, Chris ignored the odd look of the men. Finally, a threat he could fight, one he could deal with.

He grinned anticipatorily and settled his body into a defensive position. "You boys picked the wrong guy to try and mug," he said softly.

He never got the chance to react further as a sharp prick was felt against his neck. His eyes slid shut as he was immediately affected by the debilitating neurotoxin injected from the dart and he quickly sagged to the ground, unconscious.

New York City. Today.

Caitlin panted as she crouched in the shadows behind the abandoned tenement building. She ran her fingers through her wavy dark brown hair, vainly attempting to shake it out to its full shoulder length, but the tangles made it impossible. She'd not had the chance to wash herself, much less had the time to relax her guard enough, to do anything for her appearance.

I need to look normal, like a normal teenaged girl, otherwise I'll attract attention...

/Your clothes aren't helping either, you've got blood all over yourself./

She sighed. I know Chris, it can't be helped. You see a clothing store around?

*Calm yourself. Look across the street.*

Glancing across the dark street, dimly illuminated by the insufficient street lights, to where she'd been directed, she noted that the apartment building there had a clothesline strung across a third floor balcony. Thanks Eric, nice catch.

[Go in the front door. KILL THEM ALL. Take what you want!]

She gave another sigh, this one long-suffering. Shut up, Kyle.

The slender girl, to all outward appearances a normal-looking teenager, sped across the street, her unshod feet barely touching the ground. With a hop and a skip, she jumped up to the second floor balcony, grabbing the rail with her hands and using her momentum to carry her further upwards. She landed nimbly on the third floor balcony, smirking slightly. That was pretty easy.

/I keep telling you, you're capable of so much more than you think./

Her smirk turned into a frown as she searched through the clothing for something appropriate. Yes, I well remember tearing through those boys. I killed them, Chris. I killed people.

/They were gang members trying to do you harm. You defended yourself./

*And you only killed two of them. We were able to rein in Kyle right away.*

She shuddered to herself at the memory of Kyle sliding in to the forefront, his rage burning white-hot. Somehow her nails had lengthened to razor-sharp claws, slicing through the first throat effortlessly and neatly eviscerating the next thug in line, all before she could even blink.

And I thank you both for that. But that's not the part that worries me, though.

*What worries you, then?*

I don't feel anything for the ones I killed. I'm not angry, or sad, or even... I dunno, excited about it like Kyle seems to be. I'm just... empty. Shouldn't I feel something? She grabbed hold of a summer dress that seemed as if it would fit. Shedding her previously appropriated, though now torn and bloody, clothes, she slipped the muted yellow dress over her head, smoothing it out over her slim hips with both hands.

/Don't worry about that right now, okay Cat? Just worry about getting to ground. We'll deal with Kyle and try to keep him contained./

Cat sighed yet again. I seem to be doing a lot of that. Sighing, I mean. It's awfully fucking crowded in my head, guys.

She could almost hear Eric's rueful chuckle. *You get used to it, girlie.*

Undisclosed location. Five years ago.

Chris woke suddenly as bright lights seared into his head. He squinted and tried to make out his surroundings but to little avail. The best he could discern was that, one, he was in some sort of hospital or laboratory, judging from the equipment and the cold metal table he was lying naked upon. And, two, he was securely strapped down.

"Now, don't go stressing yourself, my dear subject," a soothing voice intoned from next to his right shoulder. He looked up to see a greying, grandfatherly-looking man in a white lab coat writing something down onto a clipboard. "This will all be over soon for you, though I daresay we will be speaking again if all goes well enough," the man continued. He jotted down a last note and then looked at Chris, his eyes twinkling merrily. "In fact, if this does all go as expected, you just might be granted immortality."

The prone man cleared his throat. "I don't suppose I can decline?" he asked in a raspy voice.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," the man in the lab coat chuckled. "But by all means, do cling to your sense of humor. You might need it for the times ahead of you." He glanced across the room, nodding thoughtfully, before moving back from view.

Chris strained his neck to see what the man had been looking at. There, against the wall and hooked up to numerous monitors and machinery that he couldn't even begin to fathom, was another man lying in what seemed to be an open-topped, liquid-filled chamber. He was about Chris' height but pale with short blond hair, had an air hose attached to his face, and had several tubes affixed about his body.

He looked to be asleep but somehow Chris instinctively knew that there was nobody home in the body. It just looked... vacant. Like it was waiting for something.

He felt the cold rush of fear flow through his veins as he began to finally have severe misgivings about the whole situation. Strapped down to a lab table, and it takes me this long to panic? he thought to himself almost wryly. As he began to struggle with his restraints, he felt another prick against his neck. "Not again..." he slurred before darkness overcame him.

New York City. Today.

Caitlin moved lithely across the rooftops. She knew she was being hunted, but she just wasn't sure of the hunter's identity. Is it the people from the lab? Are they law enforcement? Somebody else?

*Stay calm, Cat, you have the knowledge and the ability to evade.*

[No, stay and fight! You can't run and hide forever, FIGHT them, KILL them all!]

She scurried across the next rooftop before leaping from the parapet and landing, quiet as a mouse, on top of a department store. Is it bad that I'm leaning towards Kyle's solution here?

/Fight if you want to, you know we'll help if we can./

She paused behind the door leading down into the store, straining her enhanced senses. She could hear the tapping of feet from another rooftop away as her pursuer raced across the surface, but then they cut off as if they'd noticed that she'd stopped. Her hearing picked up on movement down on the streets as well, but she couldn't tell if she was being paced or not.

/Likely you are. If you stay put, you're definitely going to have to fight them./

Well, what would you suggest then, Chris? she thought with exasperation. Run or fight? I'm the newbie here, guys!

There was a soft thud of landing feet on her rooftop, coming from the other side of the door outcropping.

*I think your decision just got made for you.*

Undisclosed location. Five years ago.

Kyle blinked his eyes open. He was lying on a hard metal slab with raised edges that came up over his body. His arms and legs were itchy and his throat sore. He cleared it uncomfortably. "Hello?" he called out in a rusty voice. Somehow it didn't seem as if he'd spoken in awhile.

/What. The. FUCK. Is going on?/

Kyle jerked slightly at the voice. "Who's there?" he asked hoarsely. He couldn't see above the edge of his uncomfortable bed and his muscles didn't want to respond right away. He couldn't hear anybody else nearby, though.

/Not out there. In here, apparently./

In... here? Like, in my head?

/I'm still trying to figure this out myself. But, yeah. It's like I'm watching a movie screen or something./

"Who are you?" he whispered.

/I'm Chris. Was. Hell with it, I'm in your head but... yeah. Okay. My name's Chris. What's yours? Do you have one?/

Kyle.

/How do you know?/

What do you mean, how do I know? I just... know.

/Do you have a last name?/

Kyle hesitated, racking his brain. Of course he had a last name, everybody did, it was...

Huh.

/Yeah, thought so. Alright, now don't panic, but what was the last thing you remember before opening your eyes?/

Kyle furrowed his brow, searching through his memories, only to find... nothing. It was all just emptiness. He knew things, like how to disassemble a gun and fire one, the anatomy of a human being and where the pressure points were and the spots to cause the quickest bleed-outs...

What am I?

There was a sound of a door opening, and he snapped his eyes over towards that direction.

/Guess we're about to find out. Keep your cool, okay?/

He nodded his head wordlessly and waited. Only a heartbeat or two passed before a kind-looking grandfatherly type of face peered over, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.

"Good morning, Kyle," he said, smiling. "Welcome to the world. Your vitals are looking excellent. Can you sit up yet?"

"Um, I'm not sure," Kyle replied hesitantly. His voice was becoming stronger with use. "Who are you? Where am I? What did you do to me?"

The man chuckled and leaned over further to inspect his body. Kyle could see that the man wore a white lab coat.

"So many questions, good. You may simply call me Doctor. And where you are, well," he stood back up, smiling again. "You're in my laboratory."

He turned, snapping his fingers imperiously. There was a shuffling noise and more people entered, people in masks and white coats or blue scrubs. They bustled about Kyle, dismantling the high edges to his current resting place and then helping him to sit up. His head swam momentarily.

/I know this guy, this Doctor. He was there before I.../

Before you what?

He could feel Chris hesitate inside his head. /I think he's the one that killed me and put me in here./

He felt slightly sick to his stomach, whether from Chris' words or from the shakiness in his limbs he wasn't sure of quite yet. But he managed to, with plenty of assistance, transfer over to another bed, this one a hospital-style one with a raised head.

Soon enough he was hooked up to a set of softly-beeping monitors and covered with a light sheet. He didn't feel the need for modesty, though it seemed others averted their eyes from his nakedness.

/That's a natural thing. I guess that part didn't get stuck in your head, huh?/

Stuck in my head?

/Yeah, it's like you've got knowledge in here, sort of a library of things you know, or know how to do, even basic language and grammar, almost like... like it's been programmed into you. But no experience with it, like you've never done anything./

I don't understand how that's possible.

/Hey, man, I'm just along for the ride. But... Okay, let me just get this out. I think I saw your body before it was... well, inhabited./

Inhabited by you?

/By us. Ask some more questions./

"Are you going to tell me what happened to me?" Kyle asked.

The Doctor pulled up a chair and smiled. He settled into it, crossing his ankle over his knee, and took on the tone of a lecturer.

"What we've done is the culmination of years and years of research. We've had many failures, only a few successes. I'm hoping you will be one of the latter." He chuckled dryly. "At least, you didn't die right off that bat. So far so good, eh?"

/I'm really beginning to hate this guy./

Kyle snorted softly, which caused the Doctor to raise his bushy grey eyebrows.

"Let me ask you a question before I reveal any more. Is Chris in there with you?"

Kyle's mouth hung open in surprise. He waited for some sort of guidance from Chris, but apparently he was too stunned himself to answer either.

"That answers my question," the older man chuckled again. "Let me start with the big picture with what we've tried to do here. I am a scientist, but in order to understand what we've accomplished we have to deal with the spiritual as well."

He uncrossed his legs and sat forward eagerly, waving his hands about animatedly. "Life is said to be an energy, and energy cannot be created or destroyed. So as the 'soul' is possible energy, it either 'elevates', 'reincarnates', or becomes absorbed by the surrounding... let's call it environment, unless otherwise forced in a direction."

/Oh, God. He said I would be immortal. He actually did it, he stole my soul and forced it into your body./

The Doctor continued on. "Some of these 'souls' are believed to have different strengths of energy, due to being 'older' or having come from an individual with unusually strong willpower. They have the potential to absorb more energy to, well, grow and age, so to speak."

Kyle still wasn't able to form any sort of coherent response. The Doctor smiled gently, laying a weathered hand across his arm. "What we did, Kyle, was give you a 'soul' inside the body we engineered. That would be Chris. Oh, and by the way, it was nothing personal, Chris. You had highly desireable traits for this project."

/Kiss my incorporeal ass, old man./

Smiling slightly at Chris' retort, Kyle opened his mouth finally. "He's less than happy about the arrangement. I don't understand why you did this, though. Who am I? Was I anybody before you did this?"

"No, you were completely homegrown, from your body to your consciousness. We've been able to create mind imprints for some time, full of knowledge and the ability to function as a human being. Works quite well inside our AI simulators and when imprinted on existing human beings. And we've been growing our physical experiments for some time as well, trying to perfect the end goal. But up till now, every attempt to merge the two together has ended in failure."

/So what's the goal then? What are they trying to grow, and what are you, we, now?/

Kyle gave a slight nod. "So then what is this goal? What am I?"

The Doctor smiled as if Kyle were an especially bright child who had asked the question he'd been wanting to answer all along. "Ah, now, this is my area of expertise. We've been genetically creating new creatures that can change, transform into different forms, while still retaining the ability to return to a default human form. The normal state would retain some of the attributes of the creature, such as enhanced strength and agility. The perfect warrior, if you will." He beamed proudly as he rose to his feet. "It's been difficult to reach this stage. We've finally achieved an almost seventy-five percent retention rate for the 'soul' if the host dies. We do still, on occasion, need to hunt for new donors, especially to find the right fit to a particular host. I think you and Chris will get along just fine, Kyle."

As he turned to walk out of the room, Kyle spoke up again.

"Wait, please... I don't think I can do this, what you want of me..."

The Doctor turned again with a hard smile. "Of course you can. You'll adapt. The body bends to the soul, but the mind bends to the body. You're adapting already, soon it will be as if the two of you had never had any other. I look forward to seeing what you can do."

With that he strode through the door, closing it behind him, the sound of the lock clicking shut carrying easily over to where Kyle lay.

/I noticed he didn't actually say what we're supposed to 'transform' into./

Yeah, I noticed that too.

New York City. Today.

Caitlin held her breath fearfully as she edged around the corner. She froze as a breathy male voice called out. "Here, kitty kitty kitty..."

Oh, shit. He's from the lab.

She peeked the rest of the way around, suddenly coming face-to-face with a masked man. The hood and uniform were all black with some white accents that she didn't have the time to register. The only other two items she dimly noted were the concentric circles on the forehead of the mask, and the fact that he was carrying a throwing knife in each hand.

She let out a squeak of surprise and his eyes widened almost comically as if he'd been startled by her closeness. Caitlin reacted instinctively, slamming the heel of her right hand into his chest.

The strange man was flung backwards to sail over the rooftop, plunging towards the streets below.

She spun quickly on her heel and raced away from the scene, following her previous path again.

Who was that? What was that? she thought, babbling in panic inside her head. Did I kill him? He had knives, was he going to kill me?

/Don't think, Cat. You're committed to running now, so run./

Run. Yeah, running sounds good. I can do that. I'm good at running.

She hurdled the next parapet and sprinted away, her bare feet hardly making a sound as she fled into the night.

Undisclosed location. Five years ago.

Kyle walked slowly down the corridor in between two burly guards towards what he'd been told was a training room. He'd been through intense physical therapy over the last week to get his body used to his muscles, but today the impatient Doctor intended to ascertain if his part of the project was successful.

He'd met with several other scientists, none of which bothered to reveal their identity. All were universally cold and clinical in their care.

And yet, the Doctor was the one that scared him the most.

/Hey, look to your left./

He did as Chris asked and spied a pair of glass-walled cells. There were two people in them, one a scruffy-looking blond male and the other a redheaded female. The male seemed twitchy, and as he watched, he suddenly blinked from one end of the cell to the other.

Whoa.

/Wait, watch him again, closer this time... he's just moving that fast, almost in the blink of an eye, but you can see when he starts and stops./

You're right. Wonder if it has anything to do with my enhanced senses?

/Not sure./

Kyle had been getting more used to Chris in his head now. Coping with what could be called a split personality became second nature, almost. At least he had company on the long and lonely nights.

As he passed the girl's cell, she looked at him with a smirk, her eyes glowing slightly red.

Okay, she's freaky.

/No argument from me, there./

Before long they arrived in the room. It seemed to be about the size of his original chamber that he woke up in the first time, but this one had a large mirror against one wall and numerous instruments against the other. Prominent was a bulky cylinder that was standing upright with several hoses and cables attached to it. There was a large monitor affixed to the front with a keyboard below. The screen simply had two status messages, one read 'Empty' and the other 'Ready'.

Well, that's not ominous at all.

/Didn't take you long to pick up on sarcasm./

I had a good teacher.

"Alright, then. Let's see what you can do for us, Kyle." The voice of the doctor came across a speaker set into the wall. Kyle noticed that only lowly technicians were present in the room.

/Maybe he's scared of what you will transform into./

Maybe. Somehow I doubt it. Okay, guess it's time.

The Doctor had coached him well ahead of time in what was needed for him to trigger the transformation. He refused to give him a mental picture of what he would be transforming into, but told him to clear his thoughts and concentrate on the change, on pulling something out of his body.

Kyle closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, standing in the middle of the room with a simple hospital gown on. He concentrated on the feeling of something inside of him that needed to come out, needed to be freed. Before long he actually felt something stirring inside of him, beginning to move across his stomach, something cold and dark...

His eyes snapped open as he coughed. He looked down, startled, as he noticed the blood now sprayed down his shirt. "What..." he croaked, before the pain began to rack his body.

Kyle toppled onto his side, his body shaking and convulsing as his limbs twisted uncontrollably. His vocal cords were damaged beyond use already, but inside his head he was screaming endlessly.

Over the sounds of Kyle's tortuous expiration, Chris could hear the Doctor shouting orders over the speaker. "Activate it now, grab him before it escapes!"

Another voice, this one harsh and unforgiving, came across the same speaker, as if he were in the back room with the Doctor. "I told you this was a bad idea, combining Komodo Dragon with rattlesnake DNA, cold-blooded simply won't-"

"Not now! You there, get that contraption working immediately!"

By this point Kyle had gone into complete shock, overcome by the mind-numbing pain. He was still alive and twitching, but just barely. Whatever he was transforming into got stuck halfway. Chris was suddenly very, very glad he couldn't see Kyle's body right now.

And then there was a sound as if a vacuum started up, and he felt himself falling into blackness.

New York City. Today.

She flew almost effortlessly across the rooftops still, her bare feet making only slight noises against the gravel under her. She was pretty sure she'd managed to evade her pursuers, but she had a lot of ground to cover still until she reached her destination.

Not that I'm completely sold on what's waiting for me at the end.

/It's a long shot, I agree. But Tony Stark is part of the Avengers now, one of the good guys. He should be able to help. And his building is recognizable./

Caitlin peered into the distance at the towering structure that was lit up against the Manhattan night skyline. Even from here her sharp eyes could make out the giant letters against the side spelling out his name.

Certainly looks like his ego is big enough.

*Yeah, might be, but he's also some kinda genius, right?*

She paused to catch her breath, leaning against the windows of a closed penthouse-level restaurant before continuing on. Okay, now here's what I don't get. Chris is the only one of us who's ever been, like, regular born, right? So how do we all know about all this stuff? Eric, how do you even know about Stark?

*Mostly from Chris' memories. Some of it was implanted, like your memories were, your fighting abilities. Some of it is stuff that the techs and such folk discussed. They liked to pretend we were, I dunno, dumb animals. They liked to talk.*

[Talk, talk, talk, they always talk and plot and sneer, despise us they did, afraid of us deep down, better to ignore us and belittle us than to fear us...]

/Okay, for once Kyle is spot-on./

Caitlin snorted a soft laugh as she accessed their memories of their time in the lab. Yeah, that was disturbingly accurate.

Undisclosed location. Four years ago.

Eric blinked his eyes open. His large body was lying on a hard metal slab with raised edges that came up high enough to block his view of the room. "Anybody there?" he called out in a hoarse baritone.

/Glad you could make it into the real world./

Eric jerked slightly, startled, but his body didn't want to obey his commands.

/Relax, friend. I'm not out there, I'm in here with you, in your head. This is going to be a lot to take in right now, so I'll go slow. My name's Chris, and I'll be your guide through your new life./

[PAIN God the pain never stops and never will, what did they do to me, the pain...]

He blinked again uncertainly as the new voice trailed off into a whimper.

/Oh, and that's Kyle. He had... a bad time of it. Just ignore him for now, okay?/

Am I insane?

/Oh, if only it were that easy... What's your name, friend?/

Um. Eric. My name's Eric.

/Well, Eric, hold on to something, because the truth is far stranger than fiction ever could be.../

Fifteen minutes later, he was dazedly coming to terms with what he was and what had happened to him. So I'm not... a real person?

/Of course you are. You just have some extra baggage./

The door leading into the room finally opened and they heard several footsteps approach.

/Okay, here we go. This should be that Doctor prick./

Sure enough the next face over was an older man, somewhat grandfatherly-looking as Chris had described. "The Doctor, I presume?" he snarked.

The man above him gave a startled laugh. "Well, an even better humor than the original donor. Am I to assume you've been getting acquainted with your residents?"

Eric snorted. "Yeah, you could say that." He cleared his throat. "So what now?"

Before the Doctor could answer, he was interrupted by the unseen harsh voice Chris remembered from the training room where Kyle had died. "Doctor, I hope you will give this one more time to acclimate. Your failures are becoming costly."

The older man grimaced in irritation as he glanced aside. "Of course, sir."

"Very well, I will leave you to it then. Hail Hydra!"

The Doctor gave a lazy salute back. "Hail Hydra," he replied unenthusiastically before returning his attention back to Eric. "Now then, let's get you out of this uncomfortable chamber...

New York City. Today.

Caitlin crouched in the alcove she'd found. It looked like at one time it'd been a rooftop garden, but the building below her had been long abandoned. The door leading down was boarded shut.

It was as safe as she was going to get for now.

She was tired, desperately so. She'd been on the run ever since she'd left the lab, running as if her life depended on it. Which, from what her uninvited though permanent guests had to tell her, was likely the case.

Christ on a crutch, she needed sleep.

/You picked that phrase up from me, didn't you. I think you might be safe up here for a few hours./

I think you're right, Chris. But I need some time alone too, okay?

*We understand girlie. We don't get tired anymore, but I know this has been a strain on you.*

Caitlin snorted softly. Well THAT was the understatement of the century.

She sat against the wall, pulling her legs up against her chest under the sundress and closed her eyes wearily. And concentrated.

Perhaps a minute later, a short-haired midnight-colored feline crawled out from under the faded yellow dress and curled up on top of it, purring softly as she fell fast asleep. She wasn't bothered by any voices inside her head for the rest of the evening.

Undisclosed location. One month ago.

For about three and a half years Eric trained at the laboratories he learned to call home. He quickly acclimated to his abilities and surroundings thanks in a large part to Chris.

Eric developed a wry but oftentimes mischievous sense of humor over time. Chris wasn't sure how his programming triggered this, but he didn't really understand the hows or the whys of that end of things.

He was able to transform safely, though.

His form turned out to be that of a great brown bear. It was a particularly massive feeling for Eric, his large human frame being able to shift into one that filled up the small initial training room.

Both Eric and Chris tried to work with Kyle to overcome his condition. Eventually they coaxed him towards some sort of coherence but he would often lapse into moods, switching between fear and anger over his death.

Eric wasn't content to remain a lab experiment, however. He remained on the lookout for ways to escape his sterile prison environment, though such opportunities looked to be remote if even barely possible. He came across a few other experiments like himself. The large man was never permitted to converse with any of the others, kept in isolation and trained alone in a series of larger rooms. He did witness another man die painfully in much the same manner as Kyle had. It was enough to send the latter into a manic episode that took a week to talk him down from.

But opportunity can eventually come to those who are patient.

One morning as Eric was walked towards his gymnasium-sized training room he heard a commotion down the hall. There was a series of loud crashes before a guard went hurtling out of the room, bloody and broken. The pair of guards who always accompanied Eric cursed and pulled out their batons, loudly ordering the technician to stay with their current subject. Yelling continued from the room and smoke began to gather up near the ceiling as warnings of fire were shouted.

The orderly looked up at Eric, gulping nervously. He smiled down at him in return and gave him a swift backhand across the head, enough to stun him.

Quickly Eric transformed into a bear and began rampaging his way towards the entrance. He managed to get almost to freedom before he was swarmed by guards. As he continued to struggle, killing several of the opposing forces, they were forced to switch to lethal weapons over the objections of the researchers nearby, armor piercing rounds to penetrate his tough hide.

Eric felt the impact of the large-caliber rounds. He continued to fight, even as he felt the life began to drain out of him, and once he could struggle no more transformed back into a human again.

His wounds were too severe by that point, even for the regenerative properties of the transformation. He kept fighting though, using Chris' skills as best as he could and Kyle's gleeful encouragement, until the blood loss made him dizzy and uncoordinated. One more shot to his chest and he finally slumped to the ground, unmoving.

"Where's the equipment?" a voice screamed from nearby. "We have to salvage him!"

Eric let out his last breath wearily. Sorry guys, I tried.

/It's okay, man. Rest easy./

The big man closed his eyes and surrendered to the darkness before the distant running feet could reach him. By the time the equipment arrived, he had expired and his essence slipped away.

Little did the researchers realize at the time, however, that directly under the spot where Eric died was another project's room, inactive and waiting for a donor.

New York City. Today.

Caitlin the cat stretched her paws out in front of her in the early morning light as she yawned widely and arched her back. It felt glorious to wake up in this form and she was beginning to suspect that it might just become her favorite way to sleep. Especially as, when she was transformed, the other three presences within her head were conspicuously absent. She didn't really understand the reasoning behind it, any more than she understood what it was that allowed her to transform, or be able to jump up a couple of stories or across a rooftop, or how she could race across said rooftops barefoot but with nary a scratch. But she liked the peace and quiet. It made her feel less... crazy.

Surrendering to the inevitable she let out a soft mewl before transforming back into a human girl again. She shook her dark hair out, pleased to note that the snarls in her tresses were now gone. Is that how it works? My body, like, resets itself when I transform?

/Sort of. Mostly it heals some damage and refreshes you, but yes you now seem as if you'd showered recently./

She grinned as she slipped the sundress back over her head. Thanks, professor. Oh, and good morning all.

*Mornin' girlie. Though it still feels like night for me.*

Caitlin froze, slightly startled. What, don't you guys, like, sleep or something when I'm transformed?

*Nope, we just go blank. Couldn't tell you how long it's been unless you look at a clock.*

Oh. She almost felt a little embarrassed now for her earlier exuberance about getting her alone time. I'm sorry, I didn't realize that...

/Nothing to be sorry for, Cat. It's just our lot in life now./

[What life? What life do we have now, huh? No life, there's only DEATH now, for us and for everyone else, make them all PAY for what they did...]

Shut up, Kyle. Caitlin grinned as her thought was echoed simultaneously by both Chris and Eric.

She approached the portal leading down into the building warily, listening for any noise betraying habitation. Her acute hearing didn't pick up on anything and her sense of smell only uncovered mold and rot. She wrinkled her pert nose. That smells disgusting. Why can I smell the entire building like that?

*Fringe benefits, kid. You appreciated it more out in the wilderness when we could evade our pursuers more effectively.*

Well sure, Eric, but now I want to complain about it. Caitlin grinned to herself as she gently pried off the boards to uncover the door.

*Brat.* Eric followed the thought with a good-natured chuckle.

After a few seconds she was able to push the door aside and peer into the dark depths. As she had suspected, the building was completely unoccupied. She made her way down the dusty steps and towards the ground floor, where another door should lead into the alleyway.

With any luck she could slip out and blend in. Find some more clothes, maybe some shoes so she wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb, and then make her way the last couple of blocks to Stark Tower. And hopefully find the help she needed.

Of course, her luck had to run out eventually.

She'd hardly taken five steps into the alley after uncovering the side door when armed men filled both ends of the enclosed passage. She looked about wildly, hesitating with indecision. Should she run back inside the building? Fight? Jump over their heads?

*Run Cat! Get back inside, lose them over the rooftops again!*

/No, you have the advantage now, they won't expect you to charge at them! Kick jump off of the wall, you can get away from them on the streets!/

[KILL THEM ALL, KILL AND MAIM AND BLEED THEM DRY!]

Caitlin shook her head to clear it, but her indecision allowed her to fully take in the situation. The men bore dangerous-looking assault weapons, shotguns, and heavy-duty stunners. They all were dressed in combat riot gear and were labelled as NY City Police.

These were the good guys. And she suddenly didn't want to run anymore.

"Put your hands on your head!" an amplified voice shouted from behind the men. "We know you are a metahuman, do not attempt to flee or make any sudden movements!"

Nodding, she slowly raised her hands behind her head and sank to her knees.

I'm sorry guys. I'm done running.

/It's your choice, Cat. We're just along for the ride./

*Only hope we can live with the choice you made, kiddo.*

Undisclosed location. One month ago.

Caitlin blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to get the fluid out before she realized she was actually underwater. She could feel a breathing tube down her throat and several other tubes attached to her arms and legs. She tried to thrash in panic, but her muscles barely responded.

/Easy there, friend. Just relax for a second, you're going to be alright./

She blinked her eyes again. Who... Was that in my head?

His sigh of forced patience echoed through her mind. /Look, we don't have a whole lot of time. My name's Chris, and yes, I'm in your head. You're in a lab, but it looks like they weren't ready to activate you yet, so we have an opportunity here, if we move fast. It's going to require you to try and move your limbs, though, and get on your feet./

A lab? Activate? What-

*No time, kiddo, start working your muscles if you want your freedom.*

/Yeah, and I'm not alone in here. That was Eric, he just... well. I'm surprised he's coherent right now./

*Right now I'm trying to focus on our girl here and getting out.*

/Right. Well there's one other, Kyle, but he may take some time to show up./

Caitlin felt like screaming, though that would be difficult with the breathing tube in the way. SHUT UP both of you! Tell me what's going on!

/Alright, girl. What's your name?/

Caitlin.

/Pretty name. Okay Caitlin, you work on getting your muscles moving and we'll fill you in as best we can.../

Fifteen minutes of exposition later she was able to flop her upper body against the side of her container. With a wet cough she managed to remove the tube and suck in a lungful of air. "Oh, God, that feels good to get out of me."

*Better start working on the other tubes, girlie, give you time to heal.*

Right, healing. So I can heal faster as well? And I'm stronger, and faster, and can turn into... something, some kind of animal? She winced as she pulled the last tube out of her, dimly registering the pink in the water from her blood.

/That's the gist of it. I'm hoping that your muscles will recover faster than Kyle's did. Eric seemed to take less time to get onto his feet, so maybe you can do the same but even faster./

With a grunt of effort Caitlin threw herself over the side and collapsed to the floor in a wet, naked heap. Guys, this is going to take a while.

/I know, but do the best you can. The sooner we can get out of here the better chance we have of escape./

As she struggled to move across the floor, she noted that the monitors that she'd been hooked up to were mostly dark. Only one was active, and though it showed a flat line of activity there were no alarms.

Maybe nobody knows I'm awake yet?

*That's what we're counting on, kid.*

[Yes get away get AWAY and out of here, move move move...]

/Welcome to the party, Kyle./

Caitlin let out a soft chuckle that turned into a moan as she tried to pull herself up into a sitting position against the wall. He sounds insane.

/He's had it rough. Well, rougher than us, anyway. Give him time. But he's not wrong, we've got to get moving./

Alright Chris, I'm moving. She gritted her teeth and managed to get herself upright. From there she could reach the door handle and crack it open slightly. The corridor outside was dark, though she could hear distant voices shouting.

*Okay, go.*

She was able to crawl on her hands and knees by this point, with both Chris and Eric encouraging her and Kyle muttering dire predictions of being captured. She closed the door behind her and started in motion. Ten feet down the corridor she spied a door across the hall labelled as a break room.

/Perfect! Get in there!/

The dimly-lit room had a few furnishings, including a table with water bottles on it that she immediately visited, her throat raw and parched by this point. Additionally there were a few lockers against the back, several of which contained women's clothes, but no shoes.

Caitlin sat on the couch, exhausted from getting dressed. She'd found a pair of jeans that hung loose off of her slender frame, fortunately with a belt she could cinch, and a black tee shirt that was close enough to her size. What am I going to do about shoes?

/Not a worry right now, it's not like you wouldn't be caught if they saw you anyways./

She snorted softly at the encouragement and staggered to her feet. It was indeed getting easier to get around, even if it looked like she was a shambling zombie by her gait. Noticing a mirror nearby, she took a few steps in that direction and leaned heavily against the counter in front of it.

Staring back at her was a young girl with thick, curly, dark brown hair and pale green eyes, almost a yellow color. Her hair was drying as she'd used other clothing as towels, no reason to leave a drip trail as she went. She had a pert, slightly upturned nose and a pleasantly round face. She glanced down at her body, perhaps just over five feet tall if she could judge it accurately (How can I even judge that?) and athletically slim. A typical-looking teenaged girl.

So that's me.

*Yep, you're a looker alright, now can we get our asses in gear?*

Yes, Eric, I'm moving, don't be such a nag.

By this point Caitlin was able to walk, if a little unsteadily. Should I really be able to move this soon after waking up? It's been, what, a half hour?

/Near enough. It's encouraging, gives us a better chance if you can get to cover. Now, let's try to find an exit that's not as heavily guarded./

Opening the door gradually she peeked outside, only to pull the door shut again. A quartet of guards were hurrying down the hallway, fortunately not paying attention to their surrounding but more intent on their destination. After the pounding feet had passed, she slipped out and closed the door softly behind her. She walked along with one hand on the wall to steady herself.

*Stop. Camera above you. Wait...*

She froze in place, looking upward worriedly. The camera was swiveling around to pan both hallways from the corner where she was now. She'd have little time to continue on once it passed and didn't need the others to tell her so.

*Right, let's move.*

She hurried down the hallway, only needing to reach out every so often. To her surprise she was almost able to break into a jog.

At the next intersection she paused again. There was a security station at the end of the branch to the right with a single guard, and behind him was a passcard-locked door marked Garage.

/Alright, Caitlin. This is it, you're going to have to fight your way out. Do it quietly enough and no alarm will be raised./

Wait, what? Fight? I was barely standing just a short while ago! And I don't know how to fight!

/Yes, you do. Close your eyes and concentrate, but hurry before the camera behind you comes back around./

So no pressure then. She sighed and did as Chris asked. Once her eyes were closed, it was as if she could see the choreography in front of her, how easily she could take the guard behind the desk down before he raised the alarm. It was beautiful in its simplicity, almost like a dance.

Opening her eyes, she grinned. Alright then. Let's give it a try.

She sprinted around the corner, only faltering slightly as she rounded the bend but picking up speed as she flew down the hallway. The guard looked up from his monitors too late, and only just started moving his hand towards the alarm button when Caitlin went airborne. She flipped, pushing off of the desk with her hand to send both feet into his chest. The guard went sprawling backwards and she scissored her legs to slam his head down, rendering him unconscious.

She crouched over the sleeping guard, not seeing or hearing any alarm from her actions.

That... was... BADASS!

/Yes it was, now get your badass moving. Find a place to hide the body, take his badge and get out./

A short while later saw her safely ensconced in the back of a compact car that had been left unlocked. She pulled some dirty laundry from the back seat over her head just in time as a group of technicians, dismissed for the evening due to the earlier day's excitement, headed into the garage. She heard a female voice call out her goodbyes before the door to the car opened and it rocked slightly. The engine started up and she was on her way to freedom.

It took another hour before Caitlin's room was found empty on a routine inventory check and fifteen minutes after that before the lockdown search parties uncovered the still-unconscious guard. By the time security personnel began to look through the recorded garage footage and the log of employee departures around that time, Caitlin was already on foot and making her way downstate.

She was long gone by the time the lab personnel caught up with the bewildered technician.

New York City. Today.

Caitlin had been in the reinforced, windowless, practically airtight cell for twelve hours now, and she was starting to get a little worried. Not to mention light-headed, as the tiny air vents did little to circulate the air.

They'd asked her if she wanted to call a lawyer. Well, of course she did, but she didn't know any. Nor did she have any next of kin, or anyone really she could call.

She was a nobody. She didn't exist. She didn't even have a last name.

The teenaged girl sat on her bunk, wrapping her arms around her legs, and pondered what to do next.

*Well, at least you told them to call Stark.*

Caitlin snorted humorlessly. Yeah, fat lot of good that did. They acted like they get those kind of requests all the time.

/And they very likely do./

Well, she sighed (she really did seem to do that a lot), at least I'll never get lonely, right guys? Even if they keep me here, throw away the key...

*Don't go getting all maudlin on us. Give it some time. And if they don't want to help, then we'll just break out.*

She smiled softly and wiped away a tear that she'd not noticed had rolled down her cheek. Thanks guys, I mean it. I know none of us had a choice... but I'm glad we're together. Even you, Kyle.

Kyle's only response was muttered curses and grumbling about putting his revenge on hold.

Her own musings were interrupted when the door leading to her cell was opened. A pair of guards stood there with shock sticks on their belts. The bigger one motioned for her to get up.

"Let's go, little girl. Your lawyer is here."

Caitlin's eyes widened in confusion and she scratched at the skin under her restraining collar. It was meant to suppress the abilities of metahuman prisoners, but she had no idea if it would work on her. She really didn't want to test it.

"I have... a lawyer?"

"That's what he said. Now let's go."

She obediently got off of her bunk and shuffled forward. Her feet were now encased in bright orange slippers that matched the rest of her outfit. As she walked past, the shorter of the two leaned over towards his partner.

"This little thing is the one who took out the Kingsmen gang over in Jersey City?"

"Yeah, she is. Keep your distance and don't underestimate her."

/Well their days of not taking you seriously are certainly coming to a middle./

Caitlin frowned to herself slightly. Wait, what?

/Sorry. Firefly reference. We get out of this and I have so, so much culture to expose you to./

It's a date.

She was led down the hallway and into a conference room. It was also heavily fortified, with no way to open the doors from the inside. The guards halted outside and ushered her in, closing the door behind her.

Sitting across from the single table in the room was an unassuming man in a neat suit wearing a pair of sunglasses.

Caitlin frowned at the sight. Why is he wearing those inside? And why does he smell... off?

/He's blind. And he smells off because he's much more than that./

"Hello, miss. My name is Matt Murdock and I will be representing you." He gestured towards the seat in front of him, smiling gently. "Please, have a seat."

She did so, still staring at him wordlessly. What is he?

"I can imagine you have a few questions," he began, leaning back in his chair slightly and tilting his head. "I'd like to start with a few of my own, please. You did not give a name when they processed you."

"Caitlin," she whispered hesitantly.

He quirked his eyebrow, and she shook her head, immediately regretting the unnecessary action. "Sorry, no, just Caitlin. I don't... I don't have a last name."

"I see." He chuckled slightly as if he'd just made a small pun, which, when she thought about it, maybe he did. "If you could pick one, though, what would you like to use?"

She hadn't really thought about it much, actually. A last name, though, could be the first step towards... normalcy? No, I'll never be normal... but a last name is important. It gives me an identity and legitimacy... She twirled a long strand of hair in between her fingers. Glancing at the dark chestnut-colored tress, she suddenly grinned. "Brown. Caitlin Brown."

"Well, then, Miss Brown, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself, and then I'll tell you a little about me and what I might be able to do for you."

Should we trust him?

*Well, kiddo, what have we got to lose?*

/I agree with Eric, he seems trustworthy, and as I said, he's much more than he seems. I think he can help us./

Caitlin waited for a heartbeat. Kyle?

[What, you want my opinion now? Fine, go ahead and spill out our life story, I don't care.]

Don't sulk, Kyle, it's unbecoming.

She took a deep breath and spilled.

Caitlin left out her exact abilities, as well as the transformations, but instead glossed over them somewhat. Besides, if she'd been tracked all the way from Jersey City, she was pretty sure they had an idea of what she could do.

She also left out the other guys that she spent all of her time with. He seemed a nice enough man, but he didn't need to know that she regularly conversed with three other distinct personalities in her head.

But she did let him know about the lab, and Hydra, and the experiments. About escaping and running halfway across the state towards who she thought might be able to help her understand what had been done to her.

When she was finished, he sat there quietly and tapped a pencil against the pad of paper in front of him.

Why does he have paper and pencil? If he's blind, how can he take notes?

As if he'd heard her thoughts, he suddenly broke out into a grin. "That's quite the tale, Miss Caitlin Brown. You might have guessed by now, or perhaps those extensive senses might have clued you in, but I'm not quite the ordinary person myself. I know some people, some who might be able to help. I'm sorry," he raised his hand before Caitlin could speak, "Tony Stark is not one of those people. But the organization I can put you in touch with just might be able to get you onto your feet. Quite likely they can get you out of here, so long as you agree to cooperate with them."

"Who, Mr. Murdock?" Caitlin asked, faint desperation running through her voice. "Who do you know that I can talk with?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D."


A/N: Annnd BOOM! There she is. Hope you liked what I put together so far. Future chapters will have less of the back-and-forth flashbacks, though I might still include a few. The next one will see Caitlin try and figure out how she can fit into life. Oh, and yes there will be a subplot of Natasha and Maria Hill, 'cause they're my OTP. Deal with it. Might start seeing some of these other Marvel characters begin to surface as well...

Let me know what you think!