16th June, 1943, Austria. Undisclosed Hydra Base.

After a while – she realised that the screams in the room weren't only her own.

There was someone else with her.

Though Schmidt paid them no attention as he continued his work.

This would revolutionise her! She would be a weapon that could never break – more vicious than anything the world has ever known.

Or so he said.

Vibranium was an adaptive metal – and it would bond well with her continually healing, serum-mutated cells. She would have her very own weapons, under her skin. The claws and fangs of a wolf.

Just like those brothers.

She wondered where they were… if they were safe.

Maybe they'd be fighting. Maybe she'd met them.

Maybe she'd meet them when Schmidt sent her out again.

They'd already begun to prep her for the chair. She wasn't sure how it worked, but it had been used on people she'd known – it wiped them clean, made them ready for re-programming.

She felt numb.

She had always known that her little vacation with the good was just that; a vacation. Hydra owned her, and there was nothing she could do to escape them. She closed her eyes as the man next to her started screaming again. That doctor, the short squat one with glasses – Zola – divided his time between her and the man with her. But Schmidt had eyes for only her. It felt like years had passed – time blurring together as they alternated between torture and work on the newly installed claws.

They were grafted to her nail bed and finger bones – and they had completely removed all her nail growing abilities, and they were trying to work out a way to make them extend with a certain flex of her fingers.

The torture was simply a pastime for Schmidt.

He knew she was too stubborn to talk – and knew she could take what he dished out, so he practised on her.

She wished she could die.

Today the man hadn't been screaming – he was only groaning now; mumbled words too slurred for her pain-addled brain to pick out.

She coughed weakly, the tiny tube feeding acid directly into her stomach making her gag.

"Hey… commander… is that you?…"

It took her a second to work out that the man was speaking to her. The voice was weak but it was familiar. "Sergeant?" she murmured, throat raw around the tube.

There was a relieved sigh. "Thank god. I thought I was going crazy." His voice was stronger, as if knowing he wasn't alone was some kind of medicine. She tried to swallow, but only succeeded in making herself heave. "Hey, are you alright?"

She laughed, tears coming to her eyes at both the pain, and the sick hilarity of the question. "Nein. I am not okay. None of us are okay." She said hysterically, "At least you can die. I can never leave this hell."

The man was quiet. "What do you mean you can never die?" he asked finally, as her sawing breaths went shallow, into silent gasps again.

"The last time I was in Germany, I was a part of a death squad. All of us were enhanced in some way, some born, some made. I was made. They made me into this… this…" she couldn't speak suddenly, throat tight. "They made me into a monster. And now, they are finishing the process."

Her voice roughened, German accent thickening as she flexed her bandaged fingers, feeling the sharp pain of the healing cells bonding with the metal.

"I don't think you're a monster, ma'am." He said, so quietly she could only just hear him with her enhanced hearing. "You stayed behind to save us."

She laughed bitterly, choking off and gagging as the tube pulled. "And look how well that went."

The only thing that kept Steve going was the hope that they were captured.

Not dead.

They couldn't be dead.

It played in his mind alongside the thumping of his heart. If they were dead…

Not dead.

Adeline could feel the acid finally eating past her stomach lining. She arched her back, screaming through gritted teeth.

But something was different.

The sergeant had drifted back into unconsciousness a while ago, and her body had been losing the fight to the acid since.

But where was Schmidt? He was usually here, documenting, making sure she was suffering to her limit. He loved to revel in her screams – a sickly twisted pervert.

She couldn't think.

The pain was intense.

But she couldn't escape it. Couldn't even pass out from it, as her body healed it almost as fast as it ate away at her.

Then, an alarm.

Something was happening.

Her eyes flew open, and she stilled. If she was going to escape, she'd have to do it now. Slowly, she began to wriggle her hands and inch them back to herself. The thick leather creaked, and her wrists began to burn, but millimetre by millimetre, she managed it. With a crack, she dislocated her thumb, and her hand slid out of the looser cuff. With a grunt, she reached across to her other hand, and pulled at the leather. With a burst of strength, she managed to rip it open. Her head spun, the acid in her system weakening her to the point of her vision swimming. Slowly, she reached up, and pulled on the tube in her throat. It was stuck, her flesh actually grafting around it as it had tried to absorb and heal the foreign object in her. Panic rose in her, her heartbeat rising and breath quickening.

As she always did, she stamped it down. She had to get out, and hysteria wouldn't help anyone.

She instead loosened the thick neck strap, holding her to the table, and then the others holding her down, until she could sit up. The IV pulled at the tube in her neck.

She steeled herself, and gripped the tube tightly. With a sharp jerk, she pulled it free, flesh ripping. She let out a strangled howl, cutting herself off with a whimper as hot blood and pain exploded in her throat.

She sat still for a moment, getting herself under control – and when she was sure she could move without falling over or screaming, she pushed herself off the table. With stumbling steps, she made her way over to the sergeant's prone form.

With a sharp flex of her muscles, she tore at the straps holding the man down – fingers burning.

She shook him. "Sergeant!" she tried to say, voice cracking.

He opened his eyes slowly, eyes widening as he took her in. She knew she looked frightening – covered in blood, and some healing wounds. He blinked, still too out of it to respond.

Then she heard running feet, and distant yelling; "Holen Sie sich das Mädchen und bringen Sie sie zu Schmidt!" Get the girl and bring her to Schmidt!

She looked around wildly, trying to work out what to do.

They were outside the door.

Adeline watched with wide eyes as Zola moved around the green-lit laboratory, collecting his files hurriedly. He hadn't taken a second glance at her empty table, and had left immediately.

Another set of footsteps sounded outside, and she ducked down again, fingers tightening around the spare bit of metal she had found. The guards had assumed she'd run, and had left almost as soon as they entered.

Someone entered the room.

Above her, the sergeant dumbly repeated his ranking and number.

"Bucky?"

Adeline froze at the voice of someone she'd thought she'd never hear again.

"Bucky. Oh my god." Steve walked up to the surgical bed, and pushed away the IV attached to the man.

"Is that…?" she heard 'Bucky' say.

"It's me." Steve sounded close to tears. "It's Steve."

"Steve?"

"Come on." Steve said urgently.

"Steve! The Commander-"

"Where is she? Buck?" Steve asked worriedly, and Adeline crawled out from under the table.

"I'm here." She managed; voice hoarse.

For a second Steve just stared at her. He stepped towards her, movement faster than she could track. Then his arms were around her.

Adeline froze.

He was so warm, so solid, so familiar.

He let go quickly, stepping back, and coughing. "We have to go." Adeline nodded, and helped manoeuvre Bucky off the table. Steve paused with him for a second a well, clapping him on the shoulder and looking him over with a worried eye. "I thought… I thought you were dead."

Adeline looked towards the door, pretending to be watching as they shared a moment behind her. "I thought you were smaller." She smiled at Bucky's retort. At least the man hadn't lost his humour.

An explosion sounded, and she turned, just as Steve did – meeting each other's gazes. "Time to go." She said, and started towards the door.

Steve looked around – eyes focusing on a map before he nodded, and followed her, clutching Bucky to him like a lifeline. "What happened to you?" She heard the Sergeant ask.

"I joined the army." Steve said jokingly – but his voice was tight. Bucky grunted in annoyance, as they rounded the corner into the passage way, so Steve explained.

Adeline tuned them out, eyes and ears straining to catch any movement from in front of them. She could feel herself slipping into her attack stance; an almost crouch, ready to fly forward and pounce. She flexed her fingers, feeling them burn again. Then the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she stopped. Steve looked at her. "What-?"

Explosions erupted in front of them, and she shoved him down as the walls shook, throwing her body atop his automatically.

There was a cough, and she looked up to see him staring at her.

She realized in the next second that her body didn't do a lot to protect him – and that his friend was staring at them. She was off him in the next second – pretending that she hadn't noticed the way his body felt against hers, and that she hadn't acted like a fool. Without looking back at the two men, she started moving again – heading for where she thought they could escape.