"Neutralize the subject!" The cold metal of the gun against hands far too small. Looking into eyes as blue as the sky. The understanding. His laugh. The gun going off.

Nadia woke silently, changing nothing of her current state beyond being mentally aware. The room smelled of damp and mold, blood, and that orange scent that never seemed to leave The Weasel. Two heart beats, two sets of breathing patterns. One was close, his heart rate calm, his scent one that she knew well. The other was farther off, probably in a corner. No sounds of cars could be heard, or any sounds of life. Just the steady dripping of a leaking pipe. A basement. Really? That was the best this maniac could get a hold of?

Nadia opened her eyes to find herself looking into the face of Doctor Grante. The man who had done all of this to her. She owed him all of her skills but every ounce of it had been paid back in blood, sweat, and her own sanity. This creature shouldn't be allowed to live. Yet it didn't seem the world cared all too much. Only one thing left to do. If you can't kill them...

"You have a far smaller IQ than I thought for, Subject 3." That dreadful, Russian voice sounded almost disappointed. "I didn't think my ruse would work the first time."

Nadia sat up, she wasn't chained, or restrained in any way. She was even at full mental capacity. Now that was a surprise. Was he truly that confident to assume she couldn't or wouldn't kill him the moment she laid eyes on him? Yes. He was. She could see the cold, firm confidence in his eyes. And he had every right. The fear he had put in her still throbbed in her chest. But fear wasn't what was needed right now. She needed to be the one in control and that meant there was no room for that. Fear was death.

Standing up, she glanced lazily around the room, clearly not impressed by the literal cellar she was in, "Well, after I got your message, I figured you finally decided you wanted me back from the mission." Inwardly, she did a systems check, letting every nerve probe around her body. Yes, there it was. They hadn't found it. Or at least hadn't removed it. "Must say, you've come down in the ranks if this is what Hydra left you after the Avengers invaded the base."

The man scrutinized her for a long moment, his placid calm radiating from him, "What did Ivan Maslovi tell you when he met with you?" So he was captured and eventually executed if the blood stains on the walls were anything to go by. He was definitely interrogated and more than likely told them everything.

"Some nonsense about Hydra being dismantled, that the mission was over, and I was merely a loose end in the wind." Nadia matched the man's calm, pointedly ignoring the young man directly behind her. Damn good thing those pills were still working. If the dulled ache and pain in her chest was anything to go by then it was for the best that she wasn't able to have the entirety of the emotions.

"He gave me a bottle of pills but, as I deduced he was a traitor, I didn't take any." She paused, looking at him coldly, "Until the madness became noticeable." Before the man could say anything she continued, "I'll make it clear now, Doctor Grante, I'm here to align myself with you and whatever is left of Hydra. However, I have no intentions of becoming your personal test subject any longer. Those days have passed."

The Weasel stared her down, as though his murderous, teenage science experiment couldn't snap his neck without a second thought, "And what makes you think that I would trust you, Subject 3? I am fully aware of the tracker you are hiding under your skin and that you have allied yourself with the Avengers."

A feral grin slipped onto her face, "So I've fooled not just the Avengers but the master himself?" She propped herself against the torture table she had just been laying on, a gorgeous array of knives were mere inches away, "The Avengers, while powerful, are hindered by their own moral code of conduct and the laws they have allowed themselves to be bound to. They aren't willing to do what needs to be done. Hydra is the only answer to what this world needs." Nadia gave a snort, "I have and never have had any intentions of bringing myself into the folds of such a group. Here, however, I could be of some use."

The man was at the very least intrigued, not that that often counted for much, "And how would that be?"

"First," She crossed her arms, becoming serious, "Let's cut a deal, Doctor Grante. You provide the tablets to keep me working at full mental capacity and I'll work for you." She gave a half grin, "Not to mention, I won't kill you either."

Could he hear her heartbeat racing? Subject 5 definitely could. Could the Weasel smell her fear? No. This was going to work. She was going to be free. One way or another.

"You kill me and you'll be killing yourself." The Weasel didn't seem phased by the threat in the least, almost amused even, "Not to mention everyone within its reach before its eventually put down."

Three turned a skeptical gaze at Five, "What did you even do to it? Looks more like you made a robot than a human, sir. Last I knew I killed it myself." The word 'it' burned as it came out even if it rolled off as though she gave no thought to the word.

"It's functions are higher than yours in a variety of ways." The man looked at the boy in question with as cold a gaze as if Five were merely a bug, "Faster and more effective healing, as is evident in the fact that it survived your execution. Only problem with that, is it scars. You don't." He turned back to Three, "The only thing that you have that it doesn't is a properly functioning brain. Which is highly effective for me. Beyond the basic, subconscious functions of the body, Subject Five is no more than a puppet trained to my commands. Thus, the switch for when I'm eventually killed. Can't have it in the wrong hands."

"Well then." Nadia slid off the torture table and turned back towards The Weasel, "Do we have a deal?" Nadia picked up a blade from the tray, twirling it on the hilt lazily before deftly pricking her finger. Before it could heal, she wrote on the table.

"Why should I think that you don't plan to crawl back to your biological family? Or betray us to them?" He glanced at the table before nodding.

Nadia looked down for a moment, "They're not my family. They've unwillingly donated some biological material. That's all. I owe my existence to you not them." She let her face show the disgust and anger, "I won't crawl back to the Avengers because I refuse to go back to their cage of normalcy. The supposedly great Captain America and the traitorous Black Widow want me to be a normal girl with as normal of a life as they can give. They don't want me for what I am and I don't want them." Every ounce of feeling she had and then some more went into the statement. As though she were spitting it in her parents' faces. Once again, she pricked her finger and dabbed at the table.

"And what do you think you are, Subject Three?" There was a light of satisfaction in his glassy eyes, not just mere curiosity. He agreed.

"I'm a tool. A tool to be used. A well oiled machine, ready for action." She said it confidently, meaning every word of it, "Hydra can give me that. The Avengers would sooner let me rust."

Xxx

"Found the address!" Tony called over his shoulder, seemingly just lounging on the sofa with a tablet in his hands.

It'd been 28 hours since Nadia had left and 24 since Natasha had seen the note left behind. The only other person who had seen it was Steve. They'd agreed to wait on saying anything else due to Tony still on the fence about her.

The medication would start wearing off in another day if she'd taken the second set they'd given her. It was supposed to be a vote of confidence sending her with enough for two days but now it was feeling like foolishness. What if something happened to her?

"Nat?" Steve's voice sounded concerned. He was leaning over the back of the couch, watching what Tony was doing.

Natasha looked up from her perch on the coffee table, "What?"

"There's security footage from the gas station it was at and traffic cameras." He was frowning but she couldn't discern why.

"Do we have access to it?"

"We do now." Tony slid his finger across the screen and a hologram screen slid up around where Natasha was sitting, "Get off the projector so we can actually see it."

Nat slumped beside Tony, he glanced at her, suspicious, "Are those my sweatpants?"

"Not anymore."

The billionaire rolled his eyes, "Just don't let Pepper get the wrong idea." He smelled of alcohol again. When had he started drinking again? Too bad.

"Pepper is smarter than that." Natasha brushed his comment off, "Now, let's watch the footage."

"Give me a moment," He didn't look up from his tablet, "I'm pulling up the microphone I put in her clothes and matching it to this time frame."

"The what?" Steve asked, his grip on the couch tightening. The one at the compound had been replaced and it was looking like Stark might need to at least patch this one if Steve kept it up.

"Look, just because you trust Nuts doesn't mean I have to." Tony's face left no room for argument, "Anyways, if she's innocent then the precautions won't even be a problem."

The clip started to play with Nadia walking out the back of the gas station, the sound her walking feeding through the microphone. She had stopped in the middle of the lot looking around when a young man, his features blurred due to the terrible quality of the ancient security cameras, walked up right behind her. There was something in his hand but it was too small to be able to tell what it was. The girl suddenly spun on her heel, what looked like a knife to his throat. It was hard to tell what her expression was but the words she said sent a pit to their stomachs as she dropped her knife hand to bring her empty hand up to his face instead.

"Brother." Disbelief and so much pain in just one word.

Wait, brother?

Then she crushed the first tracker.

No.