Chapter 1

Right, left, right, duck, swipe, right right. Subject 3 felt the brush of air pass her ear with the metal clink of metal singing by.

Grabbing the arm, she pulled the man to the ground, planting a boot on his face, and aiming her gun at his head.

"Stand down!" A harsh, stringent voice barked in Russian. The Weasel, as Three always called him to herself and the Winter Soldier, made his way across the room with guards surrounding him. Not that he needed them. He had something far more powerful in his arsenal. Fear. For such a small man, he could make even a widow hesitate. Like most powerful men, there was something about him that made others respect him.

For every punch and combat move she knew, he knew 4 different ways to torture another human being in the name of science. Now, that fear he had planted in Three's being pulsed and grew in her chest as he came forward, face taunt.

"You have failed this exercise, subject. Return to your cell and await further instructions. Stop at the medical unit to see to your wounds."

Three saluted and left the room at a quick paced march. Relief flooded her system. He hadn't been here for her. The Soldier was probably due for reconfiguring soon. He had hid it well, but she could tell something wasn't quite right with him. The moment he started letting her win she knew. His reconfiguring would be bittersweet as he would be gone for longer than his normal mission times. He also wasn't too bad when he wasn't quite right.

The man was the closest thing Three would dare considering a father figure. He had, after all, been there with her on her first assassination, taught her most of what she knew, and the only one who didn't rat her out for the nicknames she gave those around her. Best yet, he was pretty quiet in a world full of people who wouldn't stop talking at her. In return, she didn't give him a nickname and respected him more than any other on the base or even the organization. Thus, by the social constructs of the term 'father' that she had been instructed in, he was the only one she could label for herself. The Weasel was most definitely not - even if he was the one who took her in.

Only when she got to the medical unit did she realize how extensive her injuries were. A knife was neatly buried in her side. Blast it! She hadn't even felt it go in and even now there was no pain. It wasn't a big problem from the looks of it. She would heal in a couple hours or at least by the next day. Inconvenient? Yes. Fatal? No. Yet she knew a fatal wound might not have been noticed either and that was a problem. Pain receptors were a blessing disguised as a curse.

A nurse approached her, pointing to a side room with a pen, "Over there, subject 3." She was an overly large woman, Three could hear her labored heartbeat coming from her chest from the simple act of walking. Despite the size of her hands, they were deft and skilled, her voice confident as she instructed Three to lay on the uninjured side.

As the work was done, Three couldn't help but sneak a peek at her reflection in the mirror across from her. It wasn't often that she had the opportunity to see it as she usually dealt with all her own injuries for training purposes. But orders were orders and a knife in the side was easier to dig out by another person who could assess the damage. Her blonde hair was short cropped at about 3 inches from her scalp, better that way they said. Long hair simply got caught in things too often. If there was a seduction mission, then a wig could be used or even her hair styled as opposed to the wild nest it was currently. Her body had grown since she had first come here as a child, taken in from a life of poverty and abuse. Though she didn't know how old she was, she figured from her looks it could be somewhere in the late teens. Her lythe, tall body was deceptive to those who didn't know her. She could throw an SUV 30 yards if she so desired. The only mar on her pale skin was the red silhouette of a rabbit on the inside of her wrist.

Her failure, not recognizing that the weapon was there and getting stabbed was her best guess, would be a setback. It would be longer before she was finally cleared to go on a mission solo. Alone. When would they trust her with it? Would they ever? Probably not before they implanted an explosive in her head or something.

The knife was removed and while the wound was already beginning to heal, the nurse still sewed her up.

--

"Be glad it was the Soldier who stabbed you. A widow would have twisted that knife so deep she could have crocheted with your intestines." The Weasel stood before her, arms behind his back, "Not only that, but you have forgotten your training with the KGB already? Where is the acting! You fight with the face of the Winter Soldier! Where is the smile?" He switched from Russian to Polish to English easily, no two words in the same language and grammar in standard English form for now. "I am disappointed in you, Three. We have formed you, raised you, cared for you, and this is how you treat us?"

Three dipped her head, "I apologize, Doctor Grante, your kindness is not forgotten." He was right. They had done so much for her. No one else would ever get their hands on training like this or get the enhancement she had. Yet here she was being ungrateful by wanting to- no. She did not want that. She wanted a solo mission, to prove her worth. Subject 3 would not become yet another failed test subject. A name would be earned for herself in the ranks. She owed them everything.

--

"So you're telling me," Natasha looked over at Tony, "That you think that, out of all of us," She gestured around the motley group of people in the common room. Clint, visiting from the farm and in civilian clothes, was perched on top of the fridge for currently unknown reasons and Bruce was sipping his tea and reading some form of article by the window. For herself, she was seated on the couch across from Tony. "That you could jump scare Cap the easiest?"

"That's quite the claim as I have yet to see Steve jumpy." Clint muttered, "Jump scare you on the other hand there, Tony? Easy as bribing Friday not to tell you anything."

Tony scowled, "Besides Brucey here, I'm the least likely to try something. Thus, he's not going to expect it."

"Bet you ten bucks you can't do it."

"That's assuming his super soldier hearing hasn't picked up everything you just said." Bruce didn't even look up from his paper. He was just another visitor, having been cajoled back from India to work on a small project that Tony offered to lend one of his labs for.

The elevator swished open and in walked the man himself, sweat making his shirt cling to him, "Morning." He went to the fridge, giving a smirk at Clint's usual antics, "Good to see you around, Barton." Pulling out a smoothie he'd made earlier, Steve went to the counter and propped himself against it.

"Same to you, Rogers."

"How's the family?"

This went on for a time. Tony, being his usual self, left shortly after with a snarky remark and was off to whatever business it was that called him now.

A/N - Hey all! This AU is set before the Winter Soldier and the Civil War and I have yet to decide if it's before Ultron or not. It's been a while since I've watched the movies but I'll try my best to keep people in character.I don't know how often I'll update this but I'll do my best if there's any interest in it. :)