Tony rested his left armored hand on the steel door, his right hand blaster powered up and ready to fire at anything that made a move.

He looked between his teammates, who both nodded grimly.

Tony gave the door a brutal shove - the steel scraping the floor was lost in the shriek of the hundreds of rodents that swarmed the floor, the rats growling and screaming, building a defensive line so thick the floor could not be seen.

A defensive line… around…

"Guys," Tony said. "There's a person in here."

Natasha would have rolled her eyes had they not been fixed on the young man across the room in a sort of trance.

He was propped awkwardly against the wall, blood staining the neck of his white tee shirt and the tips of his brown-sugar hair, his eyes wide and fearful as he stared at them, but somehow determined.

His hands held a sleek black flute mere centimeters from his lips - oh, his hands! They were bandaged, but hardly with care. Even from this distance of several meters Natasha could make out the crooked angles and badly swollen knuckles that shook with pain as they were forced to cling to the instrument.

His eyes darted between the three heroes, terrified without a doubt, but also questioning.

"Uh… hey?" Steve broke the (well, almost - rats still sniffed angrily) silence.

The young man focused on the Captain, injured fingers tightening still further around the flute. "What do you want?" He asked.

His voice was weak, but the demand was not. Even collapsed bloody against a wall he held an air of power that Natasha wasn't sure she wanted to start a fight with.

"Say, uh…" Tony took up when his friend appeared at a loss for words. "You mind calling off your rats so we can talk?"

The rats hissed at this.

"No, calm!" The man scolded them, his voice scratching painfully with volume. Relaxing slightly then, along with the swarm, he settled his eyes on Iron Man. "I will ask again: what do you want?"

"We're here to take out Hydra." Tony said. "But it appears that's already been done for us."

The young man gave a grunt. "Seventeen years and you happen to show up today?"

"Um…"

"Are you it?" Natasha interrupted.

The man blinked at her. "Am I what?"

"The alien weapon." Natasha said. "We heard Hydra was storing one here - are you it?"

The brown eyes narrowed. "The next who tries to cage me will meet the same fate as Bailey, guarantee."

"Bailey?" Steve asked.

The man didn't move, but his eyes travelled across the room to where the mangled body of a Hydra agent lay face down on the tiled floor.

"We're not like Hydra." Steve assured quickly. "We help people, we don't hurt them."

The man found Steve's gaze and held it a long, quiet moment. "And how can I be sure?"

Steve looked to Tony and Natasha before stepping past them into the room, holding out an arm to indicate they should stay back.

He approached the young man slowly, watching those brown eyes as they searched him desperately, as he tensed, as he brought his flute to touch his lips as if it might defend him - and for all Steve knew, it would.

He stopped three paces from the man and knelt; the rats parted to give him space, but kept the distance between the two men closed tight with their small bodies.

"You're bleeding." Steve said gently. "You're shaking and I bet you're barely staying conscious right now. I swear, we're good people. We're here to help."

The man's eyes cut to 'Bailey' across the room. "Like he helped?"

Steve shook his head. "No. Never like them. Hydra is our enemy."

The man studied him more through half open eyes - Steve wasn't lying, the guy looked like he was going to pass out any second now.

"Hey," Steve said after a rather long quiet. "What's your name?"

The man frowned slightly. "My name…" He stared at Steve a moment longer, as if judging whether his own name could perhaps be used against him. "Murut." He said finally.

"Murut." Steve echoed, managing a small smile. "I'm Steve… will you let us help you?"

Murut looked over Steve's shoulder, back to Tony and Natasha. "You won't try and take my flute, will you?"

Steve glanced to his teammates. "I… as long as your flute won't hurt anyone… I suppose not."

Murut looked like he wanted to negotiate further, but his eyes were growing visibly heavier. "I… I suppose… that's good enough… for now…"

He brought the flute the extra two centimeters to his lips, and blew a short, high note that made Steve nearly jump out of his skin in surprise.

Every rodent in the room perked their ears, and then all at once fled for the exits - whether that be through the vents, or under Tony and Natasha's feet, they didn't seem to have a preference.

In seconds they were gone.

"They…" Steve blinked at Murut. "They really are yours. And they…" His eyes drifted from the young man's eyes to the flute in his trembling grasp. "That flute…"

Murut's eyes narrowed. "You promised." He said wearily, but still tensely.

"I…" Steve stared. "I…"

"We'll see." Natasha said. "But as long as your little friends don't try to consume us alive we should be okay for now."

"If you harm me," Murut warned. "They will come for me. And they will not be kind."

"We won't harm you." Tony assured, risking removing his faceplate after another glance around him revealed no rats. "Like Steve said, we're here to help."

Murut scowled, but even leaning against the wall he swayed. "I am trusting you." He said. "Am I going to regret it?"

"I certainly hope not." Steve said. He offered his hand to help the man to his feet.

Murut nodded slightly. "So do I."

He took Steve's hand, and the captain's gaze fell to the heavily damaged appendage. He carefully slid his hand down to grasp Murut's arm rather than his swollen fingers, and pulled him up.

Murut lurched forward, his knees buckling, slumping against Steve's chest.

Natasha jumped forward as Steve fumbled to grab at the thin cotton shirt and pull the man up.

Murut weakly struggled to replace his feet beneath himself, and found himself with one arm around Natasha's shoulder and the other at Steve's waist, grasping feebly at the fabric around his flute as if that might steady him.

Tony approached from the front, lightly tilting Murut's head up to meet his eyes. "Concussion." He announced. "But to be honest that's all I can tell."

"He needs a hospital." Steve said.

"...hospital?" Murut mumbled. "That… doesn't sound like a good… idea."

"It's not." Natasha agreed. "Let's get him back to the Quinjet."

"Team!" Linda's voice radiated through the coms. "You're not alone in the building! I can't pinpoint it yet, but there's definitely someone alive in there, maybe even on your floor!"

"Already found him, Linda." Tony told her with something between a snort and a sigh. "Bringing him up now - he needs medical attention."

"Wait-you already-oh! Okay! I'm… on it." The clacking of her keyboard carried over the mic. "SHIELD medics will be waiting or you when you land. A Hydra agent?"

"No." Tony said. "One of Hydra's prisoners."

They could practically feel the young woman grimace. "Is it… on of ours?"

"No," Steve replied when Tony looked like he was about to answer overly sarcastically. "He's not. Just have everything ready, yeah?"

"But… yes, captain."

"My… flute." Murut muttered.

"No one is going to take your flute." Steve assured the half-conscious… whatever he was. "We're here to help you, remember?"

"Better… not be lyin'."

"I'm not." Steve said.

"We'll see."