Chapter 1

War.

Screaming. Bloodshed. Bullets. Bombs. Death.

No matter who you're fighting against or what you're fighting for, those moments when you're right there in the thick of it always come down to the same thing: kill the other guy before he kills you.

Steve Rogers was in the thick of it now.

Captain America and the Howling Commandos had been sent on a covert mission (emphasis on covert) to survey and report back on a HYDRA facility that intelligence said was working on a new secret weapon. Their goal was to learn the nature and purpose of this new weapon. But one thing had led to another, and now…

"These guys are taking this personally," James "Bucky" Barnes said while they were busy ducking bullets.

"Well we did just blow up their facility," said Steve.

…They'd ended up under fire while still stuck behind enemy lines.

Covert had gone out the window when Rogers got an encrypted message from Howard Stark. For the billionaire to contact him directly mid-mission was no small thing. Rogers had been torn, the impact of what Stark's message warring with the fact that they had a mission to complete here and could not simply walk away from it. But putting it to the team, the Howling Commandoes had been in unanimous agreement. HYDRA would have to wait; their new mission was of the utmost urgency.

"Airlift is two minutes out," Jim Morita, the team's communications officer, informed them. A grenade punctuated his words as it exploded not far from their position, and they ducked while dirt and debris rained down. They all knew from hard experience that two minutes in hell could feel like a century.

"We need a diversion," said Dugan. He turned to their explosives expert. "Dernier, how long?"

"Thirty seconds!" Jacques Dernier shouted back. At that moment, and larger explosion shook the ground, blowing up the path that the enemy was converging from, and throwing the Commandoes off their feet. "…Or less."

Dugan coughed in the dust cloud that was raised. He waved a hand, trying to clear the air enough to speak. "Jesus, what did you put in those bombs?"

Captain Rogers, the only one not thrown by the explosion, picked up the sound of a plane's engines before anyone else. He looked to the east where an unmarked carrier was coming in for a landing using the light of the rising sun as cover. "There's the airlift. Let's move!"

Mounting up on their motorcycles, they broke cover and were on the move. The rendezvous point was a long strip of bare rock that ended at a sudden drop-off. The plane wouldn't be landing, per say. This was a drive-by pickup; their ride would slow but wouldn't stop for them. If they missed it…

Well, they had better not miss it.

Rogers led the way, taking up the best angle to intercept the plane without stopping. The others followed his lead. The plane's tires skimmed the rock just as the five motorcycles hit the stretch. It was going to be close. Putting on a burst of speed, they rode into the belly of the plane just in the nick of time before running out of runway; the plane accelerated again and went over the cliff into the open air. The extraction team consisted of Percival "Pinky" Pinkerton, who was in the pilot's seat, and his copilot, Gabriel "Gabe" Jones, who congratulated him on the excellent maneuver while the Howling Commandos who'd made up the strike team secured their motorcycles and strapped themselves in.

"You have the coordinate?!" Captain Rogers asked urgently over the roar of the engines.

"Don't worry Cap, we got the call. We're on our way," James Montgomery "Monty" Falsworth, formerly of the English Parachute Brigade, reassured him. "A ride will be waiting at the drop zone."

Steve moved to a window and looked out at the gray early morning sky. These skies could be perilous, marking the areal line between the enemy and Allied soil. And in an unmarked craft, they could just as easily be mistakenly fired on by friend as by foe. They had to be careful of their route to avoid hot spots. They couldn't take a direct shot to their destination.

"Steve?" Bucky's voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked over at his friend to see Bucky pointing to the overhead rail that Steve was holding onto. Actually, he was gripping the bar hard enough to dent it without even realizing it.

He loosened his grip, on the bar at least. The man himself was still coiled with tension. "We're not gonna make it in time, Buck."

"Steve, look at me!" Bucky put a hand on his shoulder. "We're gonna make it buddy, I promise."

Steve accepted the comfort his best friend offered; he knew everyone was giving it their all, making their best effort. Pinky and Gabe were the best pilots he knew, and right now they were pushing the engines for all they were worth. The plane suddenly banked sharply, and their harnesses were the only thing that kept them from being tossed like a salad. The pilot shouted out, "We've been spotted. Hold on!"

Their plane was peppered with spray from an enemy craft's machine gun. A few pierced the hull, and it was only by sheer luck that no one was hit. Another steep bank helped them avoid the second barrage. They felt the tremor of a close proximity detonation when the German warbird firing on them suddenly went up in flames and plummeted from the sky and two warhawks, proudly displaying the American flag painted on their sides, swooped in to flank their carrier. Howard Stark had come through for them, calling in the cavalry; Their Airforce escort had arrived, and just in the nick of time.

"We're coming up on the drop zone," said Monty. The parachutes had already been prepped and checked and the Howling Commandoes made sure they were securely strapped. At the designated coordinates, Monty gave the order, "Let's go! Go! Go!"

Captain Rogers was the first to jump, Bucky right on his heels. The other Howling Commandos fell in after them. Good timing and maneuvering had Steve and Bucky landing like a dart hitting a bullseye at the designated landing site.

"Someone call for a ride?" Samuel "Happy Sam" Sawyer hailed them from a waiting transport truck. Jonathan "Junior" Juniper was in a second truck waiting to pick up the others when they touched down, but Steve and Buck didn't wait; the first truck took off at break-neck pace the moment they were on board. A police escort joined them with sirens blazing as they rocketed through the civilian streets.

Arriving at their destination, Steve didn't even wait for the truck to come to a stop before he jumped from the moving vehicle and made a run for the doors. Bucky, not as fast on foot as his super soldier friend, did wait for the truck to pull up outside the building and took a moment to look up at the sign that read 'American Embassy Hospital' before he followed.

"Steve," Howard Stark met them inside.

Steve ran up to him, "Am I too late?!"

"You're right on time," Howard assured him, leading the way. "She's through here."

At that moment, facing the door on the other side of which was the most important mission of his life, Steve did something that was very much unlike him: He hesitated.

Bucky Barnes took a close look at his best friend. There were times when it struck him anew that this was the same scrawny kid he'd protected from schoolyard bullies back in the day. Steve had been fearless even before the super soldier serum, back when he'd been just a small fry with no muscle to speak of, yet who still wouldn't back down from a fight, no matter how badly he got beat.

But Steve was scared now.

"Steve, you got this." Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. "Everything's gonna be fine."

Steve took a deep breath, nodded and walked in.

Howard and Bucky retreated to the waiting room to find that the rest of the Howling Commandoes had caught up. They all looked up expectantly. Bucky shook his head, no news yet, and took a seat rubbing his hands together. They all settled in to wait. Dugan pulled out a flask and took a deep swig to settle the nerves before passing it around.

It was just over an hour later that Steve Rogers walked back into the waiting room. They all stood, trepidation snaking down their spines at the look on their friend and leader's face. The man unshaken by the barrage of bombs, grenades and gunfire that they'd faced just this morning, now looked shell shocked.

"Cap…?" Howard said tentatively.

"Steve," said Bucky. "How's Peggy?"

Steve looked up and the widest grin broke out across his face. "It's a girl."

The Howling Commandoes lived up to their name as they cheered at the news. The doctor in charge would only allow one, besides the father, into the room that Peggy and the baby had been transferred to. Bucky was the one to accompany Steve.

"James," Peggy managed a smile from her bed, looking both exhausted and radiant cradling her baby in her arms.

"Hey Peggy," Bucky said softly. His eyes were drawn to the cooing infant. "Oh, she's perfect. What's her name?"

Peggy ran a finger over the child's blond hair, "Sarah, after Steve's mother. Michelle, after my brother Michael."

"Sarah Michelle Carter Rogers," Steve reverently said his daughter's name. Though she'd arrived nearly two months before she was due and the doctors had been worried, the baby girl showed no signs of being premature, or of any kind of distress. She didn't even cry as her father reached out and her mother handed her to him. Holding her safely cradled in his arms, Steve tilted her for Bucky to see and for her to see him. "Sarah, this is your Uncle Bucky."

Bucky's smile grew wider and his heart warmed at hearing the word uncle. "Hello Sarah."

He found himself looking into clear wide-open eyes, blue like her father's. The infant looked at him and reached out a hand, as if she already knew who he was. Though not related by blood, Bucky felt in his bones that this little girl was his family too. He and Steve were brothers; from the schoolyard to the battlefield, they'd always had each other's backs. He would have his buddy's back on this one too, unquestionably.

Because Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, was about to embark on the most important, essential and terrifying mission of his life: Fatherhood.

And if his child was anything like him, then he would need all the help he could get.

"You had one task. One purpose."

Johann Schmidt, aka the Red Skull, the leader of HYDRA, struck a fearsome presence to both his loyal soldiers and his enemies alike. The seemingly relaxed stance he had now was a contradiction to the rage seething within him.

A facility housing what Schmidt hoped to be his greatest weapon, his legacy, had been found and destroyed by the enemy. Only the weapon, its keeper, and a single guard, the one assigned as the weapons protector had escaped. That man stood before his feared leader now. More accurately, he dangled from his leader's fist clenched around his throat.

Schmidt took a moment to ponder that any had escaped at all. The Allied soldiers led by their Captain America, in their haste to destroy the facility, had for once not been duly diligent. Though Schmidt often dismissed the man as an American propaganda tool, a flag-wearing fool, he knew that it was unlike the soldier to be lackadaisical. He'd lost enough weapons plants and prison camps to Captain America and his team to know that. Schmidt wondered what had caused this lapse, then put it down to American arrogance. Whatever the case, the end result was that what was supposed to be a secure facility had been destroyed.

He needed to determine how the Allied forces had discovered the facility and how much they knew of his weapon; if they knew its true nature or if they had only vague rumors.

Tired of watching the disappointing soldier strangle in his grasp, Schmidt flicked his wrist and snapped the man's neck. He let the body fall to the floor like so much garbage and strode away, wiping his hands as though he'd gotten dirt on them. He stalked between a row of his soldiers who all stood at attention and snapped a salute at his passing.

This facility, built into the side of a mountain, was entirely unknown to their enemies, this he knew. But he could not keep the weapon here at his primary base. Here, it would be too much underfoot. He needed a new location for his weapon, one whose security had been tried and proven.

Schmidt stepped into what could be called a conference room. The soldier standing guard saluted. Schmidt ignored him and focused on the woman who looked for all the world like a simple secretary. However, Schmidt knew that her benign appearance was by design, intended to be easily forgotten. She and those she worked for were anything but benign. And he wouldn't be surprised if she'd managed to conceal a blade somewhere on her person. To him, not a threat, but not one to take lightly either.

Letting her into his sanctum certainly wasn't something he took lightly. The woman had been unconscious when brought here and would be unconscious when she departed.

"Herr Schmidt," a French accent graced the woman's tongue as she inclined her head.

"Madame, welcome," Schmidt inclined his head in return. "Let us skin the pleasantries, shall we."

"Of course," her thin lips stretched into a small, tight smile. "The weapon you spoke of?

"Ah, yes, the weapon. My viper." Schmidt's voice held a trace of unfamiliar emotion, though not enough to place what that emotion might be. He turned on the monitor in the room so that they could view the weapon.

The young girl of perhaps six years sat docilly on a lab table being examined by a doctor. She stared straight ahead as though unaware of anyone else in the room. Though she did not acknowledge him, she made no effort to impede the doctor as he worked. That is until he tried to stick a needle in her arm. Then with a snarl, the child leapt like some wild thing, her hands like claws going for his throat. A guard rushed forward and tried to pry her off, but the girl demonstrated strength far beyond that of a child. Only when she was hit with an electrified baton did she release her victim.

"I see. Your weapon had great potential," the woman observed. "But without control…" She continued speculatively. "She does not fight for a purpose. She fights as if something is trying to get out of her."

"Indeed," Schmidt conceded. The child's mind, while sharp, had the temperament of a wild animal easily set off. "Yet, if her potential can be harnessed, she could be the tool that secures HYDRA's future."

The woman tilted her head. "Does it have a name?"

"Sinthea," Schmidt divulged. "Sinthea Schmidt."

This child that he called his weapon was his own daughter. Schmidt had been made into a superior man by the formula that had enhanced him, body and mind, but the serum in his blood was unstable in his offspring, most of them dying before their birth. Schmidt would have far preferred a son but Sinthea was the only one to be carried to term and survive infancy. Even at so young an age, she displayed signs of physical and mental enhancement inherited from her father. And though whatever instability that had killed her sibling was still present in her, his hope was that those he now intended to entrust her to would be able to correct it.

A flicker of surprise crossed the woman's face, but was gone in the same instant. "Not to worry, Herr Schmidt. The Red Room will give her purpose. We will sculpt her mind and mold her body to make your Sinthea, your viper, unbreakable."

Author's Note: Thank you for reading.

Please leave a comment and let me know what you think, and if you want this story to continue.

I plan on writing about Sarah growing up during the war (and yes I know the timeline doesn't fit, let's just pretend the war lasted a bit longer), how she becomes a soldier like her dad, missions she went on including an encounter with an African Princess which leads to a trip to Wakanda ;) her rivalry with her very own arch nemesis Sinthea Schmidt, the love and loss of her Uncle Bucky...And how all of this carries over into the next century.

Please comment on if you would like to see all of this.

Thank you