A/N: WestOfTheGlass made another awesome gifset for The Original Three! I'm a little (okay, a lot) late in posting about this (sorry, WestOfTheGlass; I kept forgetting!) but you guys should all go check it out and reblog it! Just go to the westoftheglass tumblr and search "the original three" in her tags.

Also, if you guys have any ideas for one-shots or short stories you'd like to see with any of my characters from any of my stories—they can be fluffy, dark, AU, whatever—then shoot me a message and tell me! I have a story called The AU Files which is for the express purpose of writing these little one-shots and stuff!

Who binged on Jessica Jones? I know I did! It was amazing and a worthy addition to the MCU. I always imagine Victoria meeting new MCU characters. I think she'd admire Jessica's don't-care-ish attitude but her hopelessness might drag Victoria down to a dark place.

Lastly…thank you, my ever-loyal readers and reviewers. You're all the best. I love you all.

"Well, well," she whispers, almost snarling in rage, eyes darting between all four of us. "I expected something like this might happen—but you definitely pulled one over me, I'll give you that one. But it's fine—I can deal with this." Steve shifts forward slightly and the whistle flies to her lips as she screams, "DON'T! MOVE!"

"Steve, don't!" I yell. Deadly silence falls and I take a deep breath. "Nobody move. She's not bluffing, she really will blow the whistle. She's already used it on me once."

"What does it do?" Steve asks loudly, staring at Beckerton with a cold, hard expression.

I shudder. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Listen to Victoria, boys," Beckerton says, licking her lips and looking sort of mad. "She's smarter than all of you. She's already learned one painful lesson—I'm sure she wouldn't want you all to learn the same lesson."

"What did she do to you, Victoria?" Steve asks sharply.

I don't even know what to say. How do I explain what that blasted whistle did to me? It made me feel like my eardrums were exploding, like my brain was bleeding and melting out of my skull, like the world was imploding. How can I possibly explain that without sounding totally overdramatic? So I settle for saying nothing at all and giving Beckerton a hard look. "Let my friends go, Beckerton," I call out. "This is between you and me—there's no need to get them involved."

"Are you crazy?" she snarls. "I didn't get them involved! They got themselves involved when they decided to gate-crash!"

"Still—your fight is with me," I say loudly, trying to speak calmly. I can feel Bucky's eyes on me, can see Steve and Sam shifting quick glances at me, all of them trying to figure out what I'm doing. "Let them walk away unharmed and I—" I hesitate to try and make my speech seem realistic. "And I'll reconsider your offer."

That's totally not true. I'm going to crush her the first chance I get. But she doesn't have to know that.

I mean, she'll probably know when I'm crushing her.

"Hmmm…" She narrows her eyes and stares at me. Her pretty face is twisted with cold suspicion. She hasn't gotten this far by easily trusting people, I can tell this. Unfortunately for her, I've been forged by mistrust and suspicion as well. She'll make it hard for me to pull one over her—but I'll make it impossible for her to pull one over me. My face is an expressionless mask and my eyes are hard and cold as I stare at her. I hope she can feel the danger radiating off of me. I'm not someone to be trifled with.

"Fine," she says simply, the whistle still dangerously close to her mouth. She hasn't put on her special headphones yet but at this angle, she'd see any of us coming from a mile away and she'd be able to pull on her headphones in a snap second. "Fine," she repeats more loudly. "You're right. Your friends should be punished for so rudely interrupting us—but I can see the bigger picture. If you agree to reconsider my offer, I'll let them walk away unharmed."

"You heard her, guys," I say, not taking my eyes off of Beckerton. "Why don't you take a walk? She and I will sort this out."

Honestly, I don't really expect Steve, Bucky, and Sam to just go, "Oh yeah, sure, why not?" and stroll out. So I'm not surprised at all when I hear a variety of sounds and replies that all amount to the general concept of NO FREAKING WAY, VICTORIA. More or less. Which is fine; I can crush her with or without my friends present. I'd prefer for them to not be here…to not see me lose control that way…because it's occurred to me that my friends have never really seen me fight before. Have never really seen me get bloodthirsty and violent. And it's not exactly something I'd love for them to see.

However, it is what it is. I can't make them leave any more than they can make me leave. So I guess it's time to let the cat out of the bag. We'll see how fond of me Steve and Bucky are after they see me at my very worst.

"So what's it going to be, Beckerton?" Steve asks loudly, clearly taking point here. While he's talking, I keep my eyes on her whistle. I could suddenly rush at her and try to get it from her or knock her out—or I could try and lift a piece of debris and slam it into her—but I'm afraid that in the time it'll take to do that, she'll blow the whistle. And once the whistle has been blown…none of us will be able to do anything except drop to the ground and scream. Who knows, maybe Steve and Bucky might be able to withstand it better than Sam and me—being the super soldiers that they are—but I'm not willing to take that chance. I can't let her fry my friends' brains and I…

Okay, I admit it: I'm afraid of the pain. I don't want to feel it again. I've never felt anything like that before, not even during my time with HYDRA. No pain got into my head the way that whistle did.

Steve is threatening Beckerton now. "Do you really think you can make it past all of us?" he's asking, a taunting edge I've never heard from him before creeping into his voice. "Don't get me wrong, whatever that whistle does, I'm sure it's terrible. I could tell from Victoria's face that it's pretty bad. But is it bad enough to take all of us down for good?"

"Yes," Beckerton snarls, "it is."

"Are you sure?" Steve says in a low voice that somehow manages to carry throughout the room; the acoustics must be fantastic in this place. As he speaks, I notice Sam and Bucky subtly, ever so subtly, move forward a few increments and I mirror their movements, drifting forward a bit. "Are you absolutely positive? I don't know what it does and hey, I'm sure it worked on whatever human test subjects you tested it out on—but did you test it out on four people at once? Two of us are super soldiers and of those two, one is a super soldier assassin trained by HYDRA themselves. Another one of us a military-trained combat fighter. And another one of us has extremely powerful powers and a temper you don't want to mess with. Can your whistle really take us all permanently down for the count? Are you sure one of us won't be able to withstand it? We're pretty strong, as you can see…" His voice is casual, almost gentle now, but it's terrifying in its implications. A shiver runs down my spine. I've never before realized how scary Steve can be when he's dealing with a villain type. He's not a trained hero for nothing.

He's also very, very good. I can see the seeds of doubt have been sowed in Beckerton's mind. She's trying to look as angry and confident as ever, but her hand wavers for a moment and she bites her lip. I'm not even sure she's aware she's doing it, that's how much of an obvious I'm so out of my depth move it is. Her eyes slowly sweep over all of us, taking us in, probably noticing the fact that we've all somehow gotten closer, cornering her in like wolves taking down a lone sheep. For one long moment—the length of time it takes my heart to pound two loud beats—she stares at all of us, her eyes looking a bit wild.

And then she moves. She spins sideways and slams her hand flat against the wall near the A/T door, shouting, "RELEASE IT NOW!"

For a moment, nothing happens and we all stare at her, not exactly sure what's going on. It appears that she's just slapped her hand against a plain wall—there's nothing on the wall behind her—and shouted a command to thin air. Is she actually, literally insane? We're all so taken aback that none of us even spring into action, clearly not expecting anything major to happen.

Big. Mistake.

Slitted vents open along the perimeters of the room with low hissing sounds and the room immediately begins to fill with clouds of a white gas. It pours into the room, as thick as smoke, and for a moment all I can do is stare at it, confused. But then it hits us. I cringe, expecting something to happen to me—burning, pain, getting knocked out—and nothing does. I look down at my body but the room is so filled with opaque white gas that I can barely see my own arms or legs or feet. And that's when I hear the foreboding thuds: the sound of bodies hitting the floor.

I spin and squint into the haze, yelling, "Steve! Bucky? Sam!"

No one responds and my feeling of fear intensifies as I stumble through the room, shouting their names and hearing no response. My foot hits something on the ground and I stumble, tripping over a body. I drop to all fours and squint, leaning in close to check who it is. My heart begins pounding even more loudly when I realize it's Sam: his eyes are closed and he's completely still. The room is filling up even faster with opaque gas, the hissing sounds of the vents drowning out anything other than my heartbeat. I lean in close and press my head to Sam's chest, praying that he's alive and—hallelujah, I think I hear a heartbeat. No, rouse the chorus, because I'm sure that's a heartbeat.

I pull off of him, my shoulders sagging in relief. He's alive—and he's not a superhuman, so if he's alive that means that Steve and Bucky are alive too. Just somehow passed out while I, inexplicably, am not.

This means Beckerton is still around as well. She would never knock herself out and leave herself at our mercy.

Fury fills my veins and I get back to my feet, squinting through the gas with narrowed eyes, searching, searching, searching… There's no way she's just gone. She's in this room with me, somewhere, watching, waiting—

And I will find her.

I slowly begin to creep around the room, using my powers to shift thick clouds of gas out of my way like I'm parting a gaseous curtain. I find Steve's and Bucky's bodies as well and check both of them to make sure they're also alive; thankfully, they are.

I'm trying to part the gas as best as I can but I can hear the muted hiss of the vents and more thick opaque white clouds keep pouring into the room, making it look like the whole place is on fire, minus the burning smell. If I keep wandering around aimlessly, I'll never find Beckerton at this rate. She could easily slip through a door while I stumble around blindly.

"Beckerton," I call. My voice comes out muffled and muted, almost as if the thick gas is soundproofing the room. I frown to myself and swivel in a slow circle, squinting and trying to see through the gas. It's a no go. I can't see anything and even though the gas isn't solid or affecting me in any way, I'm starting to feel claustrophobic with all this gas pressing in on me, not letting me see or speak properly.

I need a strategy.

I walk backwards until my back hits a wall. Alright. I'm going to slowly creep around the perimeter of the room and blast my powers inwards into the room in as many directions as I can. If Beckerton is pressed up against a wall, I'll meet her. If she's standing somewhere in the room, hopefully I'll hit her and either knock her out or at least make her cry out. If she's already left the room…I'm screwed. But we won't think about that, will we?

I begin slowly inching my way around the room, keeping my back pressed against the wall and my arms thrown up, palms facing outwards. I have to keep dredging up my powers to send a blast into the room and it gets harder and harder every time because I'm not feeling that emotional—I'm just mostly feeling on-edge. Sliding along the wall like a snail isn't fun either and I have a momentary feeling of sympathy for all the blind people in the world. Obviously they get on a lot better than I do but I can't imagine feeling this helpless all the time, unable to see past the opaque nothingness all around me. I can barely hear anything at this point either, so I take a moment to send my prayers to all the deaf people in the world. Oh well—at least none of them have the struggle of trying to be a superhero. Can you imagine being blind or deaf and also trying to stop bad guys? I sure as heck can't.

In fact, I'm pretty sure it can't be done.

I take a deep breath and force myself to focus, gritting my teeth and almost closing my eyes, focusing on the burning, tingling feeling in my hands. Let it come up. I feel my arms shake and almost pulse and then I send a blast into the room, the clouds of gas hovering right in front of me swirling and parting for a moment—long enough for me to hear a muffled cry.

Jackpot!

I throw myself forward with all that I've got, which I admit doesn't feel like much right now. I feel seriously out of my element and everything feels exposed, as if she could come out of the fog anywhere around me and stab me in the back. Luckily I collide with someone and we both go crashing to the ground. I make a grab for where I think their arm is, wrenching their fist open, and I see a momentary flash as something silver flies through the gas and vanishes.

"Got your whistle!" I taunt, my words coming out weirdly muffled again, before Beckerton rolls over, flipping me under her, and punches me square in the face.

Stars explode in front of my eyes and I taste blood in my mouth. All I can do is stare dizzily up at her two heads, clouded by white gas, as her heads lean down close to me. Her mouths open and close and I can hear her saying, "You need to listen to me—"

Her head merges back into one as my vision clears and my adrenaline surges and I throw a knee upwards, projecting my powers through my knee. She blasts upwards so hard and fast it's like she was thrown on top of an exploding geyser. She falls back down at me and I roll aside just in time for her to hit the ground next to me. I expect to see her knocked out but she just groans for a second and then rolls over, making a grab for my throat. Jeez. She's hardcore. I'd admire her if I didn't want to kill her.

Our fight is…weird, to say the least. It's not civilized. It's not dignified. It's not even badass. I'm actually sort of glad that Sam, Steve, and Bucky are knocked out and can't see it—because this fight isn't anywhere near heroic. It's a brawl, a catfight, dirty. There's a lot of clawing, desperate shrieking, violent hair pulling, and wildly thrown punches. I can't help it. I don't have a lot of skilled fighting discipline on a good day and Beckerton is a relentless fighter—she isn't letting up, she isn't giving me time to regroup and regain any offensive footing. She just keeps the punches and slaps and jabs coming. It's all I can do to not have my eyes taken out by her vicious, manicured fingernails, much less use my powers and actually defeat her.

"Are you some sort of super ninja?" I scream, slamming my fist into her face. She flies backwards off of me and vanishes into the gas for a moment. I struggle to get to my feet but she appears out of nowhere, grabbing my leg and yanking as hard as she can. My chin hits the ground and I bite my tongue. Pain explodes in my mouth and I taste a flood of blood. "Oh my gawd," I say thickly, my vision going cross-eyed for a second. I feel her clawed hands dig into my calves, dragging me backwards, and I jerk my leg upwards, slamming my heel back as hard as I can. I feel it connect with something hard and she lets out a muted wail, her scream vanishing as the thick gas swallows it up like a silent vacuum.

I stagger to my feet and take a heavy step forward. I feel something crunch under my feet and step sideways, dropping to the floor to get a good look. I see pieces of something silver—the whistle. I've crushed it. It must have been made of something delicate. Thank god for that. I'm stupid; as I stare at the whistle, silently congratulating myself for destroying it, Beckerton swings out from my right and punches me in the cheek so hard I think I feel my jaw dislocate. I go flying backwards, hitting the ground headfirst, my body flinging up over me like I'm somersaulting like a drunk buffoon.

You have to gain the upper hand, you stupid girl, a voice inside my head yells at me as I lay there, groaning and rubbing my jaw, pain shooting through it. She's strong—stronger than you thought! Stop letting her touch you! If she touches you, she's got the upper hand!

The rude voice in my head has got a point. Beckerton, as girly and delicate as she looks, is a vicious fighter. She's not as skilled as Bucky and Steve are either, but she's no amateur. She's probably taken some sort of martial arts classes, I have no idea. Either way, when we face of physically, no powers included, she's stronger and tougher than me. I'm just a street punk with no real formal training except for a few sessions done with Stark—which were only to test my powers anyway.

My powers.

Those are the key. If I want to beat Beckerton, I need to stop letting her get her hands on me. I need to put some distance between us, use my powers to choke her out, snap her ribs, whatever.

But before I can make any moves, I hear her whisper in my ear, "I didn't want it to end like this," and then I feel a stab of pain in my neck. For a moment I feel paralyzed. She's—

She's stabbed me in the neck.

My mouth falls open and I blink stupidly, my hand rising to my neck, expecting to feel warm blood gushing out of it, but—

But my hand is moving like it's underwater and my hearing suddenly feels even more muffled than ever—there's a numb feeling in my mouth and I feel so drowsy…

Maybe just a small nap couldn't…

I close my eyes. I feel—

A cold floor, a—

Hand brush against my hair.

Hurt.

Everything is bright and white.

That's the first thing I notice when I wake up. My eyes open to small slits and the bright whiteness of the room seems to burn my retinas. I flinch and immediately shut them, throwing up an arm to cover them for good measure.

"You forced me to do this."

Beckerton's voice. Somewhere near—but also far. She sounds larger than life…like she's everywhere. Why?

I blink open my eyes again, wincing against the light, and slowly struggle to sit up, pressing my palms into my eyes. I sit there like that for a moment, taking long, slow, deep breaths. Beckerton knocked me out. I have no idea how long I've been knocked out. She could have done anything to me or the boys by now.

I rub my eyes and take a deep breath, bracing myself. Then I look up, preparing myself to see the worst.

And…

Well. It's not as bad as I pictured. Because I pictured, you know, my friends chopped up and body parts hanging from the ceiling like marionettes, blood pooling in huge puddles underneath.

I know, I know, I'm sick and twisted. I blame the horror movies I watched back at Steve's place, okay?

So yeah, it's not that bad. But it's pretty damn bad—and very shocking, at the very least.

I'm in a huge square-shaped room with glass walls all around, as if I'm in some sort of enormous glass cage. Enclosing the glass room is a normal square room with white walls. This is where Beckerton is standing, in the narrow space of this room beyond my glass cage. We're separate by what is probably a thick wall of glass. She looks disheveled—I'm pleased to see that her face is very bruised—but she's cleaned up her hair and suit. Now she looks like a fancy business lady who got badly mugged.

But this isn't really the bad part. The bad part is on the wall right in front of me: Steve, Bucky, and Sam. Steve and Bucky are awake and staring at me; Sam's head lolls forward onto his chest. And they're all stuck to the wall, trapped and held in place. They've been positioned standing straight up, arms pinned to their sides, all of them about two feet off the ground. Huge steel bands—and when I see huge, I mean that these bands could be used to restrain King Kong or the Hulk—wrap around their legs, torso, and chests. They can't move an inch. The fact that Steve and Bucky haven't broken out of the restraints is a very, very bad sign. I've seen them punch holes through thick walls and bend metal like it's cheap plastic. If they're still restrained…that means the restraints are stronger than even them. And poor Sam is like a rag doll; he doesn't stand a chance.

But their mouths aren't covered. "Victoria!" Steve says loudly, his eyes frantic. Bucky exhales in a huge rush and his eyes look a bit crazed as well. I sit on the ground, feeling like I've been locked into place, and stare at them for a moment, not sure what to do or say. And then all of a sudden I'm leaping to my feet and dashing to them.

"Steve! Bucky! STEVE!" I screech to a stop in front of them and hop frantically from foot to foot, trying to reach up and touch their faces, cup their cheeks, do something—and then I lurch towards Sam and jump, trying to reach his face. He's just out of reach and I can't tell if he's breathing or not. "Sam!" I spin and launch myself across the room, racing towards Beckerton. My heart is pounding and my legs feel shaky from getting knocked out. I stumble slightly and then slam into the glass, pounding it. "Beckerton!" I shout. "What have you done to Sam?!"

She lifts a small black microphone to her mouth and speaks into it. Her voice comes out into the room as if she's all around me. I can't tell where it's originating from. "Don't worry. I made sure the concentration of the formula was extra-strong in case I'd have to deal with your super soldiers or the Hulk—so it just affected your…Sam a little more strongly. He'll still recover normally; it'll just take him longer to do so."

"What formula?" I demanded, slamming my fist against the glass, my frustration at not being able to reach her reaching epic proportions. "Are you talking about that white fog? What was that?!"

"Glad you asked," she said, smiling. "I told you that I had scientists working at my disposal, right? That I'd invented a few…handy little things to help me along the way? That fog is one of them. It's a formula that affects people with XY chromosomes only. Knocks them out."

I stare at Beckerton, feeling incredibly bewildered for a moment. "You created a gas…that only works on men?"

"Smart of me, right?" she says, giggling. It's definitely a rhetorical question. She's basking in the glow of her own genius—and I have to admit, this woman just seems to be full to the brink with all sorts of insane yet incredible inventions. "And it's not always in gas form. It's actually created in a liquid form and it's more potent in a liquid form. If I injected a man with it, it would put him into a long coma—possibly even do some permanent damage to their memory or thought processes. I had it converted into a mist form so that it can seep into the pores of multiple men at once. Not as potent then, obviously…you can see that your friends are waking up…but does the trick nicely in the moment."

"And if you injected it into me?" I ask.

"Do you have the Y chromosome?" she asks.

"Uh, no."

"Then it wouldn't do anything. It would have no affect on you at all."

"I don't get how that works," I say.

"Trust me, Victoria, you don't need to," she says. "Just know that it does work."

I take a deep breath in through my nose and try to force myself to stay calm. My friends are locked up with no current hope of escape. I'm trapped in a room that I can bet my bottom dollar is not easy to get out of. And I have no idea what Beckerton wants now, considering we both just tried to beat the crap out of each other. "Okay. What do you want? You want me to join the Death Brigade?"

"Sorry, Vic," she says in a lilting voice and I grit my teeth at the nickname. "It won't be that easy anymore. Even if you do join—which, don't worry, you still have a chance to do—it can't be that easy. You need to be punished for your behavior. I told you I liked your fire—but not when you use it against me. A subordinate needs to know when to bend to their superior."

"Sounds like the classic words of a narcissistic dictator," I say sarcastically.

"Dictator?" she says, mock surprise crossing her face. "Well, if you say so… But actually, Victoria, that's something any good leader knows. You can't be a leader if your followers don't respect or listen to you. Just ask your pal Captain America. You think he'd be a Captain if people didn't listen to him? No way, girlfriend."

"Beckerton, what do you want?" Steve says sharply, his voice carrying across the glass room. "Let Victoria and my friends go. We can settle this."

"Victoria, tell your Avenger friend to shut up," Beckerton tells me, a bored expression on her face. "He hasn't heard my full story but you have. You know I'm only interested in you."

"Beckerton!" Steve yells.

"Victoria, if he doesn't stop talking—"

"Look at me, you cowardly woman—"

"Victoria, I will hurt him and the others—"

"Beckerton—!"

"Victoria—"

"STEVE, JUST SHUT UP!" I suddenly yell, spinning to look at him. He breaks off, looking extremely shocked, and then a look of fury crosses his face. I look at him pleadingly. "Please," I say. "Trust me. She's not going to reason with you. It's me and me only. If you keep talking, you're going to get yourselves hurt. Think about Sam! Sam's not as strong as you guys are!"

"Yes, think of Sam," Beckerton drawls from behind me.

"YOU SHUT UP TOO!" I whirl on Beckerton and slam the glass wall with my fist so hard a dull ringing noise echoes for moment, effectively silencing Beckerton for a moment. She takes a step back, looking surprised, and I say through gritted teeth, "Just tell me—what—you—want!"

"Okay, calm down, Jesus Christ," Beckerton says, frowning, as if somehow it's amazing that I have the nerve to be angry or something. God, she really is a psycho, isn't she? She taps a finger against her mouth—I noticed that her manicure is chipped now and feel a tiny vicious pleasure in it—and looks like she's thinking for a moment. "Right. What I want. Hmmm. Do you remember when I said that if you didn't join, I had ways to force you if you didn't agree on your own?"

A thrill of foreboding runs down my spine but I force myself to try and remain composed. "Yeah," I say cautiously. Is she implying that she's going to force me to join her?

"I'm not going to use that on you," she says.

Oh. Guess that answers that question.

She must see the confusion written across my face because she sighs. "Actually, sorry, that came out wrong. I will use it on you—but only in a specific circumstance."

"What circumstance?" I ask suspiciously.

"Don't you want to know what it is first?" she asks innocently. "The thing that I could use to force you?"

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes is probably the most painful thing I've ever done. All bad guys are such narcissists. She clearly loves the sound of her own voice. She wants to explain her evil plan in full depth so we can all gasp and ooh and aah at it. "Okay, Beckerton," I say, sighing. "What is it?"

"Glad you asked," she says, grinning.

Okay. I can't resist. I roll my eyes hardcore.

"It's another invention my scientists whipped up," she explains. "It's called the Arc Formula. It has a little bit of my DNA mixed into it but it also requires me to be there in person when someone receives it. It basically eliminates all forms of resistance and personal thought." She smiles wickedly at me and it's a tad bit unsettling, let me tell you, because her mouth is all puffy and red and purple.

"What, so it brainwashes someone?"

"Yes, but not only that—it eliminates all individual thought, motivation, agendas…and it forces the person to feel undying devotion and loyalty to the person whose DNA they get linked to. That's why I need to be there in person when they get it. They have a little bit of me inside them, but they need to see me, smell me, touch me—get my pheromones, feel that identifying link that I'm the one the DNA inside them matches up to—to form that connection to me. And when they do…that's it. They're mine!"

"Forever!" I mimic in a low, evil-villain sort of voice. "Mwahaha! Right?"

She scowls at me. "Shut up. No. Not forever, actually. The bloody formula doesn't last for forever—that's the bad part. It needs to be re-injected fairly often. But that's okay because it's not like anyone would resist it. All I would have to do is tell you 'Victoria, dear, we need to give you a shot,' and nothing would make you happier in the entire world than obeying my wishes and staying near me."

"Wow, sounds super creepy," I say, actually sort of impressed. She really is a mad genius. Granted, she makes her scientists do all her work for her, so it's not like she can really get the credit for inventing these things—but still. "How many weird invented formulas do you have, exactly?"

She bares her teeth at me, grinning in a wolfish sort of way. "More than you know, my dear."

All the better to kill you with, my dear.

"So what circumstance are you going to use the…Arc Formula on me?" I ask. I glance over my shoulder for a second. Sam's still knocked out and Bucky and Steve are watching us with the eyes of hawks, expressions intense but emotionless. I can almost feel them trying to plan something to get us all out of here—but I'm afraid that this time, it may be all up to me.

Talk about no pressure, right?

"Here's where it gets fun," she says. "You're going to go through a test. If you fail…well, you'll be dead. So it won't really matter then. If you pass, then I'll give you the Arc Formula and you get to live—as a member of my Death Brigade."

"So what's my incentive for not just letting myself die?" I ask. I can feel Steve and Bucky's eyes burning laser holes into the back of my skull and I know they're itching to strangle me for even suggesting such a thing. I swear, I'm not suicidal—I'm just curious. "I mean, you're acting like getting the Arc Formula if I…pass is some gift. But what if I really don't want the formula? What if dying is better than a lifetime of being your warrior slave?"

"I thought you might say that," she sniffs. "So I added a countermeasure. If you die, your friends also die…by repeated electrocution."

I feel as if I've been slapped. I take a step back and stare at Beckerton in mute horror. I don't know why I'm surprised—she's clearly proven that she's a monster with no morals—but I'm surprised at the brutality anyway. She's threatening to fry my friends to death if I let myself die.

"Ah, now you have incentive to pass, don't you?" She grins. "Thought so. And if you pass, your friends go free. They'll be knocked out, dumped somewhere far away, and when they wake up, they'll be no worse for the wear. Who knows, you may even run into them again at some point! We'll be doing our dastardly deeds, they'll be heroically trying to stop us, it'll be very exciting."

"Uhhh—"

"So what do you say?" she asks. "Do we have a deal? If you refuse to participate at all, I'll just electrocute them all to death while you watch and then inject the Arc Formula into you anyway. That's really the worst option, if you ask me: they die, you watch them die, and you get the formula. Not cool, right? It's better if either you all die—or you all live. I think you'll agree. Unless…" Her voice takes on a syrupy, dangerous tone. "Unless you're more selfish and coldhearted than I thought. You didn't mind murdering—what was his name? Will?—for your own safety and gain. What was it you did again? Bash the poor boy's head in with a rock? Very gory. So I suppose…you could refuse to participate…be rather bitchy of you, but…"

Her words are like a knife twisting in my heart and I look down, flinching, not wanting to meet her eyes. How does she know about Will? How does she know so much? How long has she been watching me for? Or is this because of her connection to HYDRA? Has HYDRA somehow always been watching me? Whatever it is, I feel dirty. Disgusting. Violated. I've been watched. People know my secrets. I can practically feel the confusion and question marks radiating off of Steve and Bucky, wanting to know what the hell Beckerton is referring to, and I don't know how to face them and tell them the truth. That she's not lying. That she's right.

Finally I look up. "Okay," I whisper. I cringe at how weak I sound and I clear my throat, straightening my spine and trying to sound indifferent. "I'll do it. I'll…participate."

"I knew you'd make the right decision," she said. "Try your hardest, okay? I don't want you to die. It won't be the end of the world if you do—plenty of strong women out there—but I like you. I like your spunk. I could really use you, Victoria."

"Victoria, NO!" Bucky suddenly shouts, his voice pulsing with fury. It's the first time I've heard his voice since I left New York City and I want to cry. It's so…familiar and lovely in its anger.

I turn and hide my fear and emotions, grinning at him. "Don't worry, Bucky. I've got this."

"You can't do this!" he snarls. "You'll pay for this," he spits in Beckertons direction. "Victoria, don't even think about it—"

"I have to," I say loudly, cutting him off. There's a ringing silence. "Or you'll die," I add quietly. Not wanting to see his expression for fear that it might undo me, I quickly turn back to Beckerton and take a deep breath, slamming one fist into my palm to try and brace myself for whatever might be coming next. "So. What's this…test or whatever that I have to pass?"

"A fight to the death," she says simply. "With some people that you and your friends might…recognize." A slow smile curls her lips and I suddenly feel incredibly uneasy, seeing the cold look in her eyes. She has something bad planned.

And now I have to survive it. Because it's not just me that's depending on this outcome—it's my friend, my best friend, and the guy I think I might just truly love.

Like I said: totally no pressure, right?

A/N: Threw in a little reference to Daredevil, if you caught it! Couldn't help myself. Let me know what you think about the chapter!

(Also, check out my story Run with Me if you want to see the Winter Soldier in all his terrifying glory, haha.)