Hey, guys! I know it's been a long time since I've uploaded, but these last few months have been crazy for me. I rarely found the time to write and continue the story. I hate that I've left you guys hanging, but I'm back now, and hopefully I can start sticking to a schedule! Thank you so much for being patient!

The Black Drill. It embodied darkness. It embodied death. It was a threatening, sinister force, something so rare, yet something so feared. When you heard the Black Drill, you heard the start of a war. It was a deafening, terrifying din, something that felt like it had escaped nightmares.

Katrina only heard it once. She was fourteen. She thought she was going to die. She thought the world was ending.

But that was relative. Because it was, just not to her.

The General's daughter had been kidnapped.

Yes, the General had a daughter.

When Katrina found out, she was shocked, one of the very few times emotions actually escaped her. The General never seemed like…the family type. In fact, Katrina wasn't exactly sure whether he was married or had any sort of relationship with someone. And if he did have a child…she thought he'd have been a deadbeat.

But he wasn't.

He had no second thoughts about alarming the Black Drill for her. Something so sacred and only meant for the worst of the worst of the worst situations. His unyielding pertinacity in finding her was almost admirable, if it hadn't been from someone so cruel.

The whole team was out there looking for her. Katrina included.

It must be nice having someone care about you. Katrina pondered over this sometimes. Every once in a while she felt a spark in her heart, asking her why she only had herself to share these thoughts with. Why she herself was the only person she ever shared her heart with.

They found the General's daughter in a cold, dark room. Much like the one Katrina was sitting in now. The only difference was, no one was coming to find her.

She woke up with blood matted to her hair. She knew because she felt the dry, crusty feeling on her head when she felt it. Oh, and the searing pain, too. Other than that, she couldn't tell anything about herself or her surroundings. The room was pitch dark other than the few slants of lights coming on from a patch on the right wall. Katrina had walked around the room, trying to figure out the perimeter. If there were any ways she could try to escape. But, to her surprise, there was no solid door. None that she could feel. And the walls were a strange texture. Hard, rough, woody.

The whole room smelled of wood. She took a wild guess and decided that she was in a cabin. But where?

I can't ever get a break, can I?

It wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault that she hurt the Black Widow. Those were her orders.

That didn't stop you from enjoying it, she thought to herself. She chuckled, because it was true. Thinking about the fact that she had conquered the Black Widow exhilarated her. Just imagine, if it was Captain America's neck that would be under her fingers the next time.

Speaking of which—

The door slammed open. So there was a door, Katrina realized there was no handle, just a thin crevice outlining the piece of wood, so thin that it felt unnoticeable to the touch . She felt irritated. He's smarter than she thought.

A streak of light stroked her eyes, blinding her for a moment. Then he emerged from the light. With his perfectly kept blond hair and his perfectly symmetrical face and his perfectly built body and his perfect…aura, he looked like an angel emerging from the heavens. And that annoyed Katrina a lot. In fact, it infuriated her. Everything about him was perfect. Even the air around him was perfect. It made him seem innocent. Pristine.

But Katrina knew, oh, she knew he was far from it.

She wanted to slap his face clean off. But she was physically handicapped right now. Everything about her body hurt when she moved. Standing up was a feat in itself.

Captain America shut the innovative door, sealing them both in darkness. For a moment, Katrina thought he was going to attack her in the dark. But he strode over to the side of the room, and pushed a log straight out of the wall. Like it was nothing. Without any strain at all. He did the same for the parallel wall, and pretty soon two fresh slits of sunlight shone into the room.

Katrina lowered her eyes, not wanting to look at him. His glare alone could send daggers flying at her. He walked over to her, slowly, and knelt down in front of her. She shied her face away from him, on brace of the impact. But he didn't hit her.

"Do it," she spit. "Kill me. You can avenge your friend."

"I don't think so."

Steve didn't want to kill her. Well, it wasn't that he didn't necessarily want her to die, but he didn't want to be the one to do it. He wasn't a killer. No, he wanted answers. Not why she did it, that would be pointless. He knew why.

He needed to know about DAGGER. If it's anything like HYDRA? That would be bad, really bad.

The girl's face shot up, her eyes displaying genuine confusion.

"I don't want to kill you." Steve scanned her hands to make sure she wasn't holding any potential weapons. "I just want answers."

"Answers to what?" she fired back instantaneously.

"Who are you working for?" Steve demanded.

Her mouth twitched into a slightly disturbing smile. "I don't work for anything."

Steve wasn't buying it. "DAGGER."

"I don't know what that is." Her acting was so good, she almost had Steve fooled. That is, if he hadn't noticed the slight pause in the beginning of her sentence.

It angered Steve that she was lying to him. That she was smiling. Did she think this was a joke? That he was a joke?

Steaming silently, he forced himself to remain calm. "Look, I know you're lying to me. And it won't get you anywhere because I'm not letting you go. So why don't we cut the bs, and you tell me what the hell DAGGER is?"

She grinned wickedly. "Kill me then, because I don't know."

"What's that number behind your ear for?"

Her smile dropped immediately. She shifted uncomfortably, and Steve knew he got her. She shook her head and said, "It's just a personal tattoo." An uncertainty lingered in her voice.

"Of the number two eighty-three? That's an odd choice. Does it mean anything?" He was playing with her know and she knew it. Any response she would have to say would be ridiculous, and she knew that, too. She had no choice but to tell the truth.

"Why don't you just kill me?" she demanded.

"Because I don't want to. And even if I did, I still need answers."

"I can't tell you." Her eyes darkened. "I won't tell you."

Frustrated, Steve stood up and kicked a crate so hard it went flying. He can't do anything himself, can't he? Always needs someone else's help to get the job done. Dr. Erskine, Fury, Peggy, Howard, even Tony. As much as Steve hated to admit it, Tony was the brains of the Avengers and he was just the muscle. What else can he do besides punch? Bruce is also a genius, Thor's a god, Natasha's a spy, Clint can actually shoot a goddamn bow, and he…

Everything about you came from a bottle.

Steve resented Tony for saying that. But Steve resented himself even more, because it was true, and he knew it.

Katrina wasn't surprised when the beefy guy stormed out of the room. She wouldn't crack, no matter how hard he tried.

She couldn't.

If she did, her life would be on the line.

If she exposed the General it wouldn't take a genius to figure out that it was her. And even if he didn't, who said S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't kill her for all the things she'd done? She personally didn't care nor think they were bad things, but she knew that other people didn't agree.

Her throat tightened, and it was dry from a lack of fluid. She rubbed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, and she flinched when she found it rough and prickly. The Captain left the panels out of their places, which probably meant he was going to come back soon. Or maybe he wasn't.

Katrina still wasn't sure how smart he actually was.

Well, whatever the matter, Katrina decided she was still going to try to escape anyways. She was a soldier. Soldiers don't give up.

She stumbled up, but fell again as soon as the "door" slammed open again. She glared at the Avenger. "Maybe you should start giving warnings," she hissed.

The Captain sauntered over to her and grudgingly set down something at her feet. Water—and food.

Katrina eyed the slightly wet paper bag in front of her, steam coming out of the top. Her hands begged to reach for the water bottle but she refused them. She questioningly glanced at the Captain and his jaw was tight; he didn't meet her eye.

"Eat it," he mumbled.

Katrina shook her head slightly in disbelief. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Don't make this harder than it already is." His voice was gruff and strained, and Katrina realized this was probably as painful for him as it was for her.

Katrina let out a humorless laugh. "You kidnapped me."

The Captain shoved the bag towards her. "I'm not going to let you starve!"

Katrina shoved the bag back. "I don't want it!"

"Eat it!"

"No!"

The Captain's fist clenched and Katrina was wondering whether he was ready to sock her in the face. His mouth was twisted into a frown and he shook his head slightly, his eyes averted from hers. He sighed. He really did look like an old man here, to Katrina. He looked so…sad, and hopeless. Katrina willed herself to feel bad but she couldn't. He'd wronged her, why did he deserve any sympathy? He didn't.

He looked up at her and their eyes met.

"I'll be waiting outside," the Captain said, and then he got up, and left.