A/N: Just a warning, I tried to write a German accent into this - I apologise in advance, it's not meant to be in any way offensive. Also, there is a significant time skip in this chapter. It shouldn't be too disorientating, but I thought I'd mention it here, just in case.

Big thanks to kayleeh, foreverNtoday, Hannahprince32, GVCatullus for following/favouriting :) A promising start; makes me smile.

Review Response(s):

foreverNtoday: Aww, that's sweet, thanks :) I'm glad you think I've made things interesting by switching things around. I'm secretly almost always on the bad guy's side, so I like writing my characters with a dark side. Silver's will be just a bit more noticeable than usual.

3 - My Hydra Years

I spent several minutes completely stationary, just taking in the overwhelming sight in front of me. Somehow, in just two training sessions, Hydra had picked up that guns were not so much my thing. And instead they had decided that the weapons used a long freaking time ago would be better for me. Admittedly, I still wanted to learn how to fire a gun (maybe Hydra really were getting to me), but if there was one thing I'd wanted my whole life, even before I ended up back in time and in a completely different universe, it was to learn how to fight with a sword and shoot a bow.

"You seem happy," a voice said, making me jump and instantly whirl around, settling into a defensive crouch before my mind caught up with my body. When I saw it was only Pierce, I relaxed a little. As much as I hated the guy, I knew he had no reason to hurt me just yet.

"I can't deny you've got my desires covered in one room, plus all the extra," I said, looking around again.

Pierce chuckled. "Do you have any preferences?"

I glanced around me, my eyes instantly going for the slightly curved swords. I vaguely wondered to myself as I scanned the wall if they had one like Orcrist (what could I say? I was a nerd), but then my eyes fell upon a pair of blades which reminded me of the Blades of Toledo, from Assassin's Creed Black Flag. Except they were charcoal grey, and silver. I grinned, before walking over to the blades and pulling them off the wall, testing their weight in my hands I noticed they were heavier than expected, but not overly so.

I held them up wordlessly, and Pierce nodded. He then led me out of the room and back towards the training room. But instead of going into the main room he led me in through a side door, which led to a smaller practice room.

A man in khaki combat trousers and a white t-shirt was standing idly in the room, though he looked up at our entry. He smiled at me when Pierce finally left the room.

"Hi," he said, in an unusually cheerful voice (well, for a Hydra Agent, anyway), "I'm Agent Williams."

"Uh... Hi...?"

Williams chuckled. "Well, let's see what you've got working for you," he said.

"Am I supposed to know what that means?" I asked, frowning.

Williams grinned, seemingly unable to appear irritated by my question, as I'd found many of my previous trainers were. Having spent most of my life so far working on developing the extent of my knowledge rather than improving my physique, I'd gotten into the habit of analysing and questioning most things. And I also didn't like not knowing things. "There's a reason why you've only had two days of basic training," William explained patiently. "You and Dremora are to be trained based on your favoured weapons, rather than having your weapons chosen based on you hand-to-hand abilities. Director Pierce is a remarkably good judge of character, so he has picked out a selection of weapons that he knows you'll prefer. In your case, it's swords and bows. Dremora is expected to choose a heavy machine gun, as it is most beneficial for her strength. I've been told that you, however, automatically went for the route of tactics, speed and flexibility during your combat training, which is why you've chosen not just one, but two swords. It allows more movement." Williams gave me a once over. "You used to be a dancer or a gymnast, didn't you?"

I raised two surprised eyebrows. "Uh, both, actually," I told him. "I stopped gymnastics about four and a half years ago, and I spent the last two years doing dance in school. Those two things were about the only kind of physical activity I was ever any good at."

Williams hummed, nodding his head. "I thought so. You're very light on your feet, and you have a rather... fluid way of walking."

I shrugged. "You're not the first person to have said so, though honestly I thought the other person was just being nice."

"Clearly not," Williams said, that smile still on his face. "Well, I suppose we ought to get started."

I was thoroughly trained in hand-to-hand, dual wielding, shooting a bow, throwing knives, and shooting several different types of gun over the next three years. My stamina and strength improved, as did my flexibility and light-footedness.

Every single night for the first two months the same guy visited my 'room', and while he never told me his real name, I eventually gave up on asking and just decided to call him (rather unimaginatively) Shadow. But after those two months, he stopped visiting. And I can honestly say I missed him. He didn't say much, but he was still a comforting person to be around, and he'd even brought me an acoustic guitar one day to help me avoid boredom.

I didn't see Dremora much over the three years. Maybe once or twice a week, and even then it would be only either in passing or when we were pitched against each other in an arena. To start with, it seemed that my first victory had been a fluke - for seventeen consecutive matches Dremora was able to beat me. But then I started to get better, until it was impossible to guess who would win each time. We started to learn each other's moves as well, so our matches kept getting longer and longer. That was until Pierce decided to put us up against different opponents. We still fought occasionally, but more often than not we'd be against some other random person.

In the three years I'd been at Hydra, I began to trust the people there. I knew who they were and what they were capable of, but not once had they given me reason to doubt them (beyond the obvious). They'd never hurt me or threatened me. Perhaps they really did have faith that I was one of them. And perhaps, deep down, I truly was a part of Hydra. That thought was not as disturbing as it should have been.

It was my nineteenth birthday. The only reason I knew this was because, every year, on the same day, Pierce would give me a day off to do whatever I wanted (as long as I didn't leave the premises).

I decided to go to the firing range - which was directly next to my personal training room - because I wasn't happy with my performance with a handgun. Sub machine guns and assault rifles and even grenade launchers were all fine, but there was something about the smaller weapon that I couldn't get right.

There was one other person in the room when I pushed the door open, shrugging out of the grey jacket I'd been given to wear (my outfit changed twice a week). Walking past them, I picked up a simple Glock and slammed in the ammo clip, before lifting both my arms and aiming carefully at the target. I fired once. The bullet went through a hole in the outer rim of the second ring. I frowned and shot again. This one hit closer, but still not close enough.

Pausing, I glanced at the target next to mine. There was one hole.

That didn't make any sense. The guy had been firing a bullet every few seconds since I walked in. How could...?

My jaw almost fell to the floor.

He was shooting the same hole? How the hell did he manage that?

It took me a second to realise the shooting had stopped, and I glanced up to see myself facing the eyes of someone I'd never met before, but would recognise anywhere. The Winter Soldier.

"How the hell do you shoot like that?" I asked in astonishment. He simply blinked, his left eyebrow twitching slightly. I chuckled. "Not a talker, huh? Fine by me." I shrugged, glanced at the Glock in my hand, before saying slowly, "I don't suppose you could give me any pointers...? I can't seem to get this right."

His brow twitched again, before he gestured for me to go ahead. Shoving back my sudden nerves, I lifted the pistol, aimed for a second, then fired. Another one on the border of the second and third rings. I let out an exasperated huff.

The Winter Soldier stepped behind me, indicating for me to aim again with his hand. I slowly did so. His hand gently came to rest on the shoulder of my bent arm, which he pushed down so it was as low as it could go. He then moved to my straight arm and readjusted the positions of my fingers slightly. Then he stepped back and nodded.

Slightly sceptical that such small changes would make a difference, I aimed again, making sure to lower my shoulder and place my fingers in the way he'd shown me. When the shot went off, I was astonished to see the bullet had landed very slightly to the right of dead centre.

I blinked a few times, then beamed up at the man behind me. "Thanks!"

He nodded his head, before going back to his own place and picking up his own gun.

After emptying three clips of ammunition, and each time landing them within the centre circle, I smiled to myself and decided it was good enough for today.

I placed the Glock back in its place before heading towards my training room, pushing open the door that seperated the two rooms. In one corner, spread across the table, were my custom-made throwing knives, my bow, my twin blades and my black, fingerless gloves. The gloves were for when I decided I wanted to bruise my knuckles with a punching bag.

Today I picked up the knives, before moving towards a wall where there were a bunch of coloured buttons. I pressed the blue one, and a single target, rather disturbingly in the shape of a body, popped up from the ground, and a small, square platform that was situated exactly ten metres from the target raised itself up. I stepped onto the platform and lightly fingered the first of my knives, before grasping the handle and throwing it towards the target. It struck right where the heart would be. As soon as the target disappeared the next came up, and before it was fully upright I flung the next knife. This repeated until my twenty knives were all embedded in the targets. Since there were only ten targets, all of them had been hit twice. Each throw had landed the knife either in the heart or the centre of the forehead.

Ignoring the thought that this would mean almost two dozen dead bodies were this real (as I did with each practice), I moved towards the targets and began to systematically tug the knives free. When I turned, all twenty knives tucked neatly back into their little bag at my waist, I noticed for the first time that I wasn't alone.

Apparently, the Winter Soldier had followed me in, and he was leaning causally against the table which held all my stuff.

"I didn't think you'd follow me," I told him as I placed my knives down. I paused, glanced over my shoulder at where the targets had been before they sunk back into the floor, then turned back to him. "How'd I do?"

He stared for a long time, then the side of his lip twitched slightly, and he nodded. Taking that to mean I'd done well, I smiled.

I sighed, then said, "I remember when I used to really look forward to my days-off, but now I don't really know what to do with myself. Have you got anywhere you need to be?"

Slowly, he shook his head.

"Then what do you say to training with me?"

As soon as the words escaped my lips I saw alarm flash across his eyes. He stood up and took a small step back.

I frowned. "What is it?" I asked quietly.

His brows furrowed, and then he glanced down at his left arm. His metal arm. I understood instantly.

"Oh," I murmured simply. He gave me a slightly apologetic look. I smiled. "Hey, don't feel pressured or anything. It was just a suggestion. It's been too long since I've found someone to spar who I haven't been put up against before."

"Soldier!"

The Winter Soldier instantly stiffened, and he turned his head towards the door, narrowing his eyes. I followed his gaze and saw Pierce marching towards us, along with a man I knew instantly was Doctor Zola. Over time I'd forgotten his face, but seeing him now made everything come back, and I knew without a doubt that this was the little shit who'd experimented on Bucky back in '43, even if doing so kept him alive.

Pierce then looked at me. "Silverthorn, I was under the impression today is your birthday."

"It is, sir," I answered. "I decided to spend my time brushing up on a few things." I shrugged. "I don't really know what else to do with myself anymore."

He stared at me for a long moment, before turning to Zola. "Is she ready, Doctor?"

Zola looked me over, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Vell," he said at length. "Ideally, she vould be prepped for anozer few months or so, however, I sink she is ready for ze procedure."

"What procedure?" I asked, frowning. In the corner of my eye I saw the Winter Soldier shooting me a warning look, but I ignored it. Even if I couldn't stop them from performing tests on me, I could at least go in partially knowing what to expect.

"Are you avare of ze serum created for Captain America?"

"The one by Doctor Erskine?" I questioned, feeling uneasiness starting to bubble in my stomach.

"Yes," Zola said with a smile, "zat's ze one. Vell, I believe I have managed to replicate it. Ze Vinter Soldier responded vell to it, but it might be because he had already been injected vith an earlier version. Pierce offered you up as the next tester of ze serum."

I blinked a few times, then said, "So, if this works, I'll be stronger, faster, have better endurance, and just be more durable in general...?"

"Vith luck, yes."

I wanted to deny it. I wanted so badly to spit at them and curse them into Oblivion for even thinking about human experimentation. But I didn't, because I wasn't suicidal. Instead, I sucked in a large breath, caught the troubled gaze of the Winter Soldier, and then looked at Pierce and Zola with stubborn determination and nodded my head. "Sounds like fun," I stated dryly.