Black Sheep (3/4)

Irene woke up in a cell she had only previously seen from the outside, with a wall made of bulletproof glass and her hands shackled behind her. She shifted slightly and the world spun, making her feel sick and dizzy- she remembered the hit to her face, and let out a sob as she realised her nose must be broken. Yes, that was dried blood she tasted on her top lip, but as she glanced down she saw that her leg had been roughly splinted and bandaged. That wouldn't do much good, though, not with the shards of bone the bullet had created. With difficulty she pulled her arms up over her head and reached forward to pull back the bandage; her sob turned to a gag as she saw the mess of blood and pus beneath it.

"Hallo?" she called out. "Mein Bein wird Nässen… hilfe!" Help! Help me, you bastards, you did this to me! "HILFE! Aidez-moi! Aiuto, help me, agid!" But nobody came. They put me in here, she thought, so they want me alive. That was probably my father, calling in a few favours and promising many more. Oh, what if he is in trouble too? This is all my fault. I should never have tried to escape.

"Irene?"

"Mutti!" she turned and tried to drag herself towards the glass, where her mother was standing. "Mutti, ich-"

"Shtum!" her mother barked, voice muffled by the glass, and Irene dutifully fell silent. "Sie sind nicht meine Tochter."

Not her daughter? "Aber-"

"Nein!" her mother snapped, face contorted in upset and fury. "Dummes Mädchen."

I know, she thought, I know I'm stupid, I'm sorry. "Mein Vati-"

"Hans-" her mother broke off and pressed a hand to her mouth. "Hans ist… mein Gott…"

No, Irene thought, please no, please don't say it mother, please…

"Hans is tot," Mrs Hoffmann choked out, and hurried away.

Dead. Her father was dead, because of her foolishness. They had punished him for her wrongdoings, just as she had been for the nameless soldier's; and now she would have to live with it forever, the horrible guilt of knowing she had torn her tiny family apart in the space of a single night. She had lost everyone, and gained nothing. Slowly, her now-ugly face twisted in hurt, Irene forced herself onto her knees, pressed her hands together and began to pray.

HYDRA had never encouraged religion, but her mother always wore a little cross around her neck- she prayed to that first, the little cross, then remembered she was an abomination, unworthy of an omnipotent God's attention, and as such turned her prayers to any deity who might happen to be listening.

I'm sorry, she repeated over and over again, please help me, I am cold and alone and hurting, I will repent if you please just help me now… the words became her mantra, filling her every waking moment and lulling her until she passed out.

Meanwhile, dry food and water was shoved through a flap in the door twice a day. This allowed her to keep a tally of how long she had been in there by scratching lines into the wall with a safety pin she had found in the pocket of her overalls. Her body became thinner and greyer and her hair began to fall out. The hole in her leg grew gradually worse until one day, when she had begun to fit and seizure from the mould that was infecting her entire body, they were forced to cut it off. Unlike the nameless soldier and his gleaming metal arm, they just left her with an ugly stump and ghost pains beneath it.

After six months, an important-looking man in a suit came to speak to her. "Do you feel punished yet?" he asked her, leaning casually against the glass. "Do you feel you have atoned for your sins, little girl?"

Her mind was so confused nowadays that she barely understood him, and the fact he spoke English didn't help. "Sorry," she whispered, "I am sorry, please God I am sorry, please help me-"

"Dumb whore," he spat at her, and walked away.

The safety pin snapped on the very last tally mark she could fit on the far wall- seventy-four sets of five, which meant she had been in here a little over a year already. Was it really that long? She must have lost track of time a while ago, and now with no way to keep score she was worried she might go mad.

At least her cell was in one of the labs, which allowed her a little entertainment as she watched the lab coats add solids to liquids, set fire to things and generally make an awful lot of explosions. That, and it appeared she was now part of the welcome tour. What she could glean from the officer's distant voice as he showed new recruits around was that she was an example of what would happen if they dared defy the HYDRA rule. Some would look scared, some pitiful, and some would wave at her- she hid in the darkest corner of her cell until they left.

Irene was dreadfully narrow now; she could run her finger along her spine and feel the bump of every vertebrae against it, hook the same finger under the bottom of her ribcage and feel the emptiness inside of her. Her food must have been carefully measured so that she didn't actually starve to the point of death, and she was too scared to refuse to eat it in case they decided to punish her for that, too. Her one act of disobedience had only ruined her life, after all, which did not give her the confidence to commit any further ones.

I don't think I am a Nazi anymore, she mused one day, nor HYDRA. It is funny, but what I was trying to achieve by running away happened even when I failed to do so. Well, perhaps not funny I suppose. Please, help me. I do not want this anymore. Please, gods, angels, help me.

One day, her cell was illuminated by a strange, pretty blue light and Irene hopped up to the glass to investigate its source. It came from a long gold stick, double-pointed at one end, and the light itself seemed to be almost touchable, so thick it was near the centre of it. The scientists were scanning it with beeping machines, and she watched until it was taken away again. It must have only been there a few hours, because it happened within a single shift- none of the men in the lab swapped places.

As they took it away, a man with a monocle attached to one eye came to talk to the head scientist. "The girl in the jam jar," he said (that was what they called her cell) "do you think she is strong?" He had an eastern European accent, but he used English for the sake of easy communication.

The scientist laughed shortly. "Not at all, Baron," he replied. "Or I would have sent her off for your experiments years ago. No, she's just something to strike a little fear into the soldiers' hearts. A warning, I suppose you could say. Nothing special, and certainly not strong. I have to listen to her crying, most days."

The monocle man nodded. "Very well," he said, and followed the glowing stick out of the room. That was the most interesting thing Irene could remember happening while she was in the cell, and hoped something similar would occur again. She returned to the corner she slept in with wonky steps, pulled the filthy rags that had once been her overalls over the top of her, prayed, and fell asleep once more.

%

Gunshots. That was what woke Irene up, countless meals after the monocle man; the sound of gunshots in the facility, where they shouldn't be. No firing allowed in the corridors, she thought dully, then her instincts kicked in and she began to panic. The lab was completely empty, which it had never been before, and among the gunshots and voices she could hear other, stranger noises, and the sound of thunder. What are they doing?

She sat up, cricked her neck and shuffled up to the glass, only to jump back as a HYDRA-uniformed body went flying past it at what appeared to be the speed of sound. They were under attack- they were under attack!

"HELP!" she screamed, slamming her rickety fists against the window, "HELP! HILFE! AGID! HELP ME!"

Another HYDRA soldier ran into the room, pointed his gun directly at one of the breathing holes cut into the glass- and was thrown aside like a ragdoll as something connected with his head.

The weapon - all she saw was a blur of silver - returned to a large, outstretched hand and Irene scrambled back in fright. Possibly the largest man she had ever seen was in the doorway; he was very tall and very wide, with long blond hair and… and a cape.

"Was it you who called for help?" he asked, and somehow she understood. She was sure he wasn't speaking any language she knew, but the words made perfect sense in her head. Something told her that he spoke in a tongue that could be understood by anyone. Magic.

She nodded, and gulped as he ran towards her.

She needn't have been worried; the giant crouched in front of the glass and gave her a surprisingly warm, kind smile. "What is your name?" he asked her softly.

"Irene," she said in a cracked voice.

"What a pretty name. Well, Irene, I'm going to get you out of this cell," he announced, voice rising again. "I suggest you move away from the glass."

"You can't," she warned him, "bullets do not work on it."

"Well, it's a good thing I didn't bring bullets." He swung the silver thing round and round in his hand, and when Irene was pressed against the back wall he brought it against the glass, which shattered with such an intensity it turned to powder as it fell to the floor.

"Irene, my name is Thor," said the giant as he stepped inside, then scooped her up in his powerful arms.

Like the god, she thought. Perhaps her prayers had worked.

"I am going to take you to the Captain, Irene," he said. Every time he said her name her body flooded with life. "We're going to get you somewhere safe, away from here. Do you know if there is anyone else?" he asked, carrying her out of the lab and down the corridor.

"My… my mother…"

"I shall look for her, Irene, worry not." He walked into another lab, a horribly familiar lab, and Irene began to scream and thrash about in his arms.

"Nein! Nicht hier!" she shrieked, and Thor hurriedly backed out of the room.

"Irene, calm down, you are safe with me. Irene, look at me." His eyes were a serene blue, steady and calm. "What happened in that room?"

She shook her head, but couldn't stop herself as she started to cry. A coarse thumb wiped the tears from her hollow cheeks, and another man stood behind Thor. He was big and blonde too, but his hair was short and he was dressed in more normal clothing, although there was a navy blue helmet dangling from his hand.

"She's wearing HYDRA clothes," the newcomer said, with a hint of distrust. "How do we know they're not going to use her against us?"

"You must trust me, captain," Thor replied, standing up and resting a hand on the other's shoulder. "Whatever this girl was born as, the only thing important to us now is that she needs our help."

The captain nodded, and glanced back into the room she had just left. "Mind if I talk to her for a minute?" he asked. "Get back to the perimeter with Stark, we're almost done here and we need to find the Hulk before he fells the entire forest."

Thor looked uncertain, and his eyes found Irene on the floor again. "Be gentle with her," he warned the captain.

"I've had a lifetime's experience of holding babies for photos, Thor, I'll be fine. Go." The god nodded, and ran back down the corridor as the captain crouched down so he was at eye-level with her.

"Irene, right?" he asked, and she nodded. "You lived here?"

She struggled to translate her thoughts into English. "My father ran the facility," she said, "I was help, me and my mother was help. I try to run away, after… after thing, and they catch me."

The captain nodded, then pointed to the room. "What happened in there?" he asked her. "Take your time, it's alright. Nothing can hurt you now."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "The thing," she said.

The captain pursed his lips as he thought. "Irene, I think a man I'm looking for was in that room. He would have had a metal arm-" he pointed at his own left arm to illustrate. "Do you remember him?"

"Yes," she murmured. "He did not do thing. They try and make him, but he does not and another does instead. Then they-" she pressed her hands to her forehead. "He forget. Next time I see him, he forget."

His eyes were stormy. "What was the thing, Irene?"

"They…" she bit down the scream this time, determined to explain herself. "I do not know, I do not know the word!" she fretted.

"Hush, sweetheart, it was okay. Just think back- I know it's hard, but it'll help the both of us."

She searched her memory for every word said, and suddenly one stuck out, blaring red in her mind.

"They rape me!"

The captain swore under his breath. "Oh, Irene, I'm so sorry. You said Buck- the man, he didn't do it?"

She shook her head. "They want him to. They say he needs punished, he let girl live on, on, on mission and he needs punished. They make him watch, but he is made unconscious when he tries to stop."

If the captain had looked angry before, then now he seemed downright murderous- but he straightened his expression and pulled her to her foot. "I'm going to carry you," he said in a slow, clear voice, "okay?"

"Ja." She curled her fingers into his uniform as he slung her over his back and jogged back down the corridor she had not seen for an amount of time she didn't know, which was empty except for them and the lifeless forms of HYDRA soldiers. "Danke, captain."

"Don't worry about it," he replied as they left the building and sunlight burned her papery skin. "Nat, status report. Any other civilians?" he paused for a moment, probably listening to a reply in his earpiece. "Alright, find Banner. We'll get this one to the quinjet and move out."

He carried her through snowy forest and up a ramp into the inside of a small aeroplane, where a man with a bow and arrow was waiting alongside what appeared to be a red-and-gold robot. The three of them exchanged brief words, too fast for Irene to follow, and the captain carried her into the plane and set her down in a small wing to the left, where he pulled some clinical-looking bags and tubes out from the wall.

"Irene," he said, "I'm going to hook you up to a drip, okay? This part goes into your nose." His fingers brushed against what was left of her hair as he hooked the thing around the back of her ears. "It'll give you nutrients until we can get you to hospital."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Cap," the robot said loudly, "we can't take her to a public place, she knows too much. Get her back to Cho and we can see what she knows."

"We will ensure her health the best way we can," Thor's voice boomed as the captain slid a needle into the skin of her forearm. She barely even felt the pain, as small as it was compared to what she had experienced before. "Her wellbeing takes priority, Stark, before your own enquiries."

"Only because you asked so nicely," Stark the robot muttered, and Irene flinched as its face flipped up to reveal a real, human one behind it. "How long do we think she was in there?"

"Years, by the looks of it. Irene, how- wie alt bist du?"

A small laugh bubbled up in her at his halting German, quickly silenced as she realised the answer. "I do not know," she said, "I was one-and-twenty when I try to leave, that is many years ago now I think. The… thing happen when I am sixteen."

"What thing?" Stark asked loudly, and Thor glared at him. "Touchy subject?"

"Really not a people person, are you, Stark?" the archer asked.

"I'm rich, I don't need to be." As he spoke, two more people walked in- a red-haired woman and a tired-looking man wrapped in a blanket. "All present and correct, cap'n. Jarvis, you wanna autopilot?"

"I'd be happy to, sir," a smooth voice said from the speakers above her, and the ramp lifted up as the plane rose into the air in a roar of engines. "Can I suggest seatbelts? There appears to be some turbulence."

As the others secured themselves into chairs, the captain helped Irene into one and gave her a blanket similar to the other man's. "We'll be in America within a few hours," he assured her, "I would sleep, if I were you."

"I do not think I can," she said weakly, as the other passengers gave her curious looks. "Who are you?"

They all exchanged glances. "We're the Avengers," Stark informed her, with a definite note of pride.

Her eyebrows lowered. "I am sorry. Who are they?"

The redhead woman snorted with laughter as Stark's face fell.

A/N I kind of liked writing this chapter because I got the chance to write the Avengers in ways that aren't really that popular in fanfic I think? Like Thor being a very serious, genuine person as like this antithesis to Steve's rage, which he's barely holding back for the sake of civilians present. And Tony Stark being a dick. But that's kind of a rule of thumb.