I try to update weekly, I really do, but sometimes life just gets in the way. Thanks for staying with the story :) I will try my hardest to get the next chapter up on time. As always, I hope you guys enjoy!

I put a little come thing in here for those of you that watched Agent Carter. No spoilers, so don't worry. Be sure to leave a review if you pick it up ;)

I don't own Marvel.

They returned the men to SHIELD the next day. A few of them had crunched on a cyanide pill and were of no use. The others had done the same, but not committed, and they were in critical care. Only one man survived, his pill had been removed from his mouth the month before. They had one witness, one lead, one person to tell them what HYDRA wanted.

Steve and Clint stood behind the one way glass that looking into the interrogation room. One of SHIELD's top men was in the room with the agent, trying to make him talk. The agent had blood leaking down his face from a cut lip and his eye was starting to darken.

"He's not breaking. It's been hours. They need a break," Steve murmured under his breath. His hand was positioned under his head, his eyes alert, looking for any signs of anything that may tell him more information.

"Thompson, take a break," Clint said into his headpiece. The interrogator left the room, leaving the agent inside.

"Sorry. HYDRA's got them wired tight," Thompson said, opening the door to the room in annoyance.

"We are prepared for this. Everyone else is at the tower watching over her. She's safe there. Go get some food," Clint ordered. Thompson nodded and left the room.

"Remind me who he is," Steve said. He knew the majority of the agents, but he had never gotten the chance to really meet with the interrogators.

"Henry Thompson. Grandson of Jack Thompson, who worked for the SSR back in the day. He actually became chief. His son and grandson followed in his footsteps, working for the SSR and then for SHIELD," Clint informed him.

"When did he work at the SSR?" he asked, prying for more information.

"About a year or so after the war ended. He helped your gal take down some serious bad guys. They were a pretty good team, so I've been told."

Steve sighed. Another person who had connections to Peggy. Henry's grandfather had been there for Peggy when he hadn't. Steve forced his guilt down and focused at the task at hand.

"We have to get the information out of him somehow," Steve said. Clint nodded.

"Lemme see if I can get anything. It's not my strong suit, but I can give it a try." Clint pushed past Steve, exited the room, and entered the interrogation room.

The agent did not look up, his gaze trained on the table in front of him.

"That table's not gonna help you," Clint said.

"I will not help you either," the man uttered in his thick German accent.

"You attacked two of my good friends. If you won't help me, you will be the one needing serious help." Clint slammed his hand down on the table. The agent flinched slightly. He was under thirty, for sure, with short blonde hair and a chiseled jaw. By the looks of things, he had been hardwired like everyone else to not speak a word, but he had not been with the agency long.

"Why did you do it? Huh? Join a Nazi agency that murders people for fun and is still trying to take over the world. It seems pointless to me." Steve had to admit that he was admiring Clint at the moment. He rarely saw the serious side of his friend, always hidden by the goofy exterior. Steve had come to realize that when anyone messed with the team, they were usually on the receiving end of an arrow.

The man took a breath. "It is not exactly voluntary. If you haven't figured that out by now, you are less intelligent than I assumed."

"Not voluntary, how so?" Clint asked, reaching across the table to seem more intimidating.

The man rolled his eyes. "They take "volunteers". If you don't go, they kill your family. I went. On my second day, they had me watch an execution of seven people. At the end, the pulled the bags off their heads. They had gone back on their word and murdered my family, my two year old daughter. So that I would have no reason to leave. If I disobeyed, I was beaten." The man lifted up the back of his shirt as much as he could in handcuffs. Clint walked around and sucked in a breath. Scars of fading lash marks streaked across his back like a checkerboard.

Steve didn't need to know what Clint saw. He could guess well enough.

The man let down his shirt and Clint returned to the table. "If I follow, they leave me alone. It's better than dying. Besides, they are trying to change the world for the better."

"The other men, they had this done to them too?" Clint asked. The man nodded before Clint continued. "How are they going to change the world?"

The man started laughing. "Answer me!" Clint yelled. "What the hell do they want with Natasha?"

Steve clenched his fists together, waiting for the man's reply. "You haven't figured that out yet either. I have to admit, I am surprised. The great intelligence agency, not knowing the motives of its enemies. Sad, actually."

Steve watched Clint's chest rise and fall through the glass in a frustrated fashion. They could not afford to lose him now. "What do they want?"

"Her DNA," the man replied simply. "We already have a sample from Steve Rogers."

Steve cringed at the thought of his enemies possessing even the slightest trace of the serum. The agent continued. "The Winter Soldier has given blood on multiple occasions." Steve grabbed the table, bending the metal as his hand clenched down on it. "Natalia's blood will work as the factor that will make the improved serum work."

"What then?" Clint pressed. He looked less confident, trying to hide it behind a mask, but both Steve and the agent could see right through him.

"You have to figure at least something out for yourself. Either because I won't tell you or because I just don't know," the agent said and looked pleased with himself, even though he had just given out information.

Steve jumped as the piece of the metal table ripped off in his hand. He set it down, the marks of his fingers etched into the smooth surface. Clint walked out of the room as more agents came to take the man back to his cell.

Steve met Clint in the corridor outside the interrogation room. His brow was sweaty and he was toying with his fingers, obviously agitated.

"This is bad. Very bad," he said, knowing that he was stating the obvious.

"What do they want with her blood?" Steve asked. He knew that his blood had been mutated, and Bucky had been experimented on, but he still knew very little about Natasha other than that her past haunted her.

Clint took a deep breath and looked directly at Steve. "She has a variant of your formula, given to her by the Red Room. My guess is that when they combine all three, it creates a higher potency of the serum, even more powerful than yours."

"And all they need is her blood?" he questioned.

Clint nodded in response. "She has to go on missions, she goes crazy if we keep her inside, trust me, I know." The glimmer of goofiness was beginning to return to his eyes as the intensity of the interrogation faded away. "But we have to keep her safe. My guess is that whatever they have planned for the serum, she is the missing piece, and as soon as they get that piece, all hell will literally break loose."

"No," was her immediate answer. She didn't even have to think about it before the small word rolled off her tongue. "I can take care of myself, you boys know that. And Clint knows that I need to go out and do something with her life.

The Avengers were all seated once again on the communal floor, discussing how they should approach the situation at hand. Frankly, everyone was torn on what to do.

"Lady Natasha, although you have proven yourself a strong warrior, we are messing with an evil that will only grow stronger should any of us fail in our duties," Thor explained.

"Yes, but being cooped up inside, especially for someone with the qualities she possesses, will be extremely hard for over a week," Bruce commented.

They all fell into silence again. "Bruce?" Tony asked.

Bruce perked his head up, waiting for what Tony would say next.

"Can you maybe analyze the samples? Cap is right here and I'm sure you know what you're dealing with. Natasha could help you out and don't we have something from Bucky. In his files or something. Could you whip up something that resembles what HYDRA is trying to do so we can at least see what we're working with?"

Bruce snapped his fingers in Tony's direction. "I see your point. But I'll need some help. Want to tag along?"

"Lead the way," Tony said sarcastically, as it was his tower. They disappeared into the elevator and left the other four members of the team sitting in an awkward silence.

Steve felt his phone buzz in his pocket. When he got into the Tower, Tony had forced it onto Steve, teaching him everything about it. Steve didn't admit it, but most of the tech knowledge had gone in one ear and out the other.

"We have a lead here in town. Transferring coordinates now. -Hill" was what the message contained.

"What is it?" Clint asked.

"Hill found a lead here in town. Clint, can you come with me and Thor can you watch over Natasha?" Steve asked, picking his shield up from where it sat next to the couch.

Natasha groaned in protest. "I will keep her safe, do not worry Lord Steven."

"Thanks, Thor. Let the two science bros know we're going. Clint, go suit up."

In ten minutes, Clint was driving the two of them, in full gear, towards a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. It was a small one and had been vacant for years, which is why the sudden activity threw up a red flag.

They parked the car out of sight of the building and crept towards it. There were no security cameras or guards, so they went right up to the door of the warehouse.

The air was chilly around the rusting metal structure as the men figured out what to do. They had no idea if anyone was still inside the warehouse or not.

"Stand back," Steve ordered, pulling out his shield. Clint moved out of the way. Steve clutched the shield tight and drew in a breath before running into the door using the shield as a battering ram.

The door caved in upon impact, leaving a dent in the door the shape of a circle. Clint ran in behind Steve, bow ready, as Steve dusted himself off.

The warehouse was obviously deserted. Boxes lay scattered on the ground, guns on the table, the same kind that they had seen at the other warehouse. There was no dust anywhere, so the building had recently been used. And recently evacuated.

Clint pried the lid off one of the boxes as Steve did the same.

Vests lined Steve's box, all black and full of pockets. "Steve, take a look at this," Clint yelled from the other side of the room.

His box contained gloves, masks, and holsters for weapons.

"What do you make of all this?" he asked, picking up a pair of gloves and throwing them to the ground.

"I honestly don't know. Let's get the rest of these crates open." They found more of the same stuff, alone with tight black shirts and combat boots.

Eventually, Steve pieced everything together, at around the same time Steve did. They laid out everything onto one table.

The mask, the shirt, vest, pants, holster, gloves, and boots. A complete uniform.

"Shit," Clint muttered. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think so. They mean to build an army," Steve replied.

"Mean to build an army? Steve, they could already have an army," Clint replied.

"How did we not see this coming?" Steve put his hand to his face in disgust and let out an angered breath.

"Not good. Not good. We have to tell the others. Whatever the serum makes, it has to have some kind of effect on the soldiers," Clint said as he put the phone up to his ear.

Steve could hear the static on the other end of the line. He redialed the number and waited. Again, static filled the other end of the line. Clint closed the phone, annoyed.

"Bad signal?" he asked innocently.

Clint shook his head with a puzzled look on his face. "This is a Stark phone. It can pick up the smallest signals and use them. It never goes static."

"Meaning?" Steve asked, motioning with his hands for Clint to continue.

"Something's jamming it."

Steve looked around at the boxes, everything that was around them, all in perfect order. Not like it had been vacated suddenly. Why didn't he pick up on it before?

"It's a trap," he whispered. Clint looked at him, confused. "It's a trap! Run!" Steve yelled, practically pushing Clint towards the door.

Steve heard the whistling and knew it was too late. He pushed Clint down to the ground, using his body to cover the archer's. His shield covered what it could of him, but it left his legs exposed.

The missile connected with the building in an inferno. Shattered pieces of metal flew everywhere in the roar that deafened Steve for a moment. He held his shield steady in one hand, making sure it covered both his head and Clint's.

The sound of broken wood filled the air as the metal began to creak and break apart. Then the heat began to hit. All around them was fire, smoldering uniforms, bits of debris raining down on them. They imbedded themselves in his legs. Steve felt the blood slowly begin to trickle through and down his uniform, pooling just beneath his feet.

It was only then that Steve realized how numb his legs were.

He rolled off of Clint and yelled as the back of his legs, which had been exposed, touched the broken pavement beneath him.

"Steve!" Clint yelled through the haze.

His voice was carried to Steve slowly. He tried to suck in a breath, but the heavy smoke that hung in the air made him cough, only making his legs burn more. His eyes watered from the smoke as he tried to get his bearings, but to no avail.

He could see Clint silhouetted in the red haze, trying to get to his feet. The heat became less intense as the numbness turned into its own fire, blazing on his legs. Steve gritted his teeth and bit back a yell. The darkness welcomed him and Steve had no choice but to walk into it.