Hope you found the prologue enough to keep you reading. Let's see where we go next.

The Paths We Tread

Chapter 1

Remy leapt forward for his very life before the metal platform below him dropped hundreds of feet into darkness. His lungs screamed and his legs shook, but he knew that giving up was not an option. With his limbs shrieking at him he continued to run as fast as his feet would carry him. With desperate vigor he sprang again to catch the metal bars. He blocked out the straight and deadly plummet below him, but swung, grabbing the bars and swinging his way across the abyss. Ignoring the burn in his blistered palms he made the last few bars and dropped to the floor. Suddenly cannon blasters rose up from the floor, giving no quarter as they began to fire on him. He dodged nimbly, his young feet not failing him. He whipped out his chosen weapon, a telescoping metal staff, and vaulted himself over the offensive line.

Just as quickly he swung the staff around again, shearing off the barrel of the nearest gun. The others continued to fire but couldn't catch him as he flipped, dived, cartwheeled, somersaulted, and handspringed, everything he could do to not be hit. Now or never. He withdrew from a small pack at his belt several small black discs. He tossed them with a sniper's accuracy and they connected to the cannons. Red lights beeped momentarily before the discs exploded, shattering the guns into split metal and smoke.

Hardly allowing him a breath, a massive device also sprung from the ground, the giant metal pole surrounded by smaller staffs of metal sticking out horizontally. It spanned the room so there was no dodging it as the poles began to rotate, first slowly, then faster around in merry-go-round of death. Remy gasped as he leapt over one bar that almost swept his legs from under him and then ducked as another nearly took off his head. He jumped and ducked while trying to avoid being knocked down. Finally it sank back into the floor as even more cannons emerged from the walls. This time they surrounded him from every direction. He again whipped out the bo staff as heavy rubber balls began to fire at him. He deflected many but he was exhausted. He staggered with fatigue and that was all the opening that the offense needed. A heavy ball collided with his stomach and he doubled up in pain. Another nailed him right square in the face, sending him tumbling backwards as stars exploded behind his eyes. He could feel pain in his nose and he wondered vaguely if it was broken. His head connected with the metal floor and he lay still, too beaten to rise again.

A throaty buzzing echoed around him and those cursed lights blazed back to life again. He remained motionless, but willed himself to rise as he heard feet approaching. He managed to roll feebly to his stomach and tried to lift himself to trembling knees. He gave out and collapsed again, seeing blood from his nose drip to the floor. He dry heaved with the hurt and exhaustion.

Rough and strict hands hauled him to his feet and held him there so he wouldn't give out again. His vision was blurry as he took in the man who was leading him to the technicians who would check his vitals like they did every day after the first training session of the day. He slumped to the seat, his ears fuzzily taking in what the man nearby was saying.

"How did Operative 23 perform on the current trial, and how long did he last?"

The answer was quick in coming from the control room, 2:46:92, or two hours, forty six minutes, and ninety two milliseconds in continuous action.

The man seemed pleased with the results. "At least the White Devil is progressing, unlike our other operatives. I can see why the Supreme Hydra was so eager to acquire him two years ago. As soon as the technicians are finished, send him to eat."

When he was finished he was accordingly sent, one of those dang chaperones following him to the mess hall with the rest of the 'operatives'.

The doors opened to reveal the same bare walls, cold floors, and metallic tables as everywhere else in this wretched place. Some of the other kids his age, seven to nine, were huddled around the tables, gulping their bland food after their own rigorous training sessions. Without a word he shuffled to collect a metal tray that held tasteless but 'nutritious' military pellets that they ate everday for every meal. It had been several years, but Remy could still remember the rich tastes of the Cajun food whenever he managed to get a decent bite. He moaned slightly as his mouth watered at the memories.

He turned to find the only ray of light in his dark life. Operative 57 waved discreetly at him. Only Remy knew him by his real name, Rowan Sawnder. He had arrived several months ago, Remy could never keep track of time in here. Although Rowan wasn't chatty or annoyingly optimistic, he had an air of stoicness and inextinguishable determination about him that nothing seemed to crush. Remy wondered whether he would have gone insane in this place without him. He was on the brink of that right before his arrival.

Remy slid in next to him. Both boys were still young, Remy estimated his age at eight, since he had never known the exact date of his birth. Rowan knew he was eight since the nice ladies at his orphanage kindly kept track for him and his birthday hadn't yet rolled around again. At least he didn't think so. Darn the time in here!

Rowan looked up at Remy, understanding and sympathy in his eyes which were so different from Remy's, a soft angelic blue.

"They pushed again?" Was all he asked.

Remy gulped his water, draining half the bottle before he responded. "O' course. We are dere favorite guinea pigs, afte' all. Why do dey make us do all dis crap, dey don't nearly push de ot'ers as hard." Despite the passage of time he still retained the thick Cajun in his husky boy voice as he angrily slammed back the rest of his water.

Rowan lowered his blue eyes that were painfully reminiscent of the summer sky neither had seen in ages. His dark locks fell in his eyes, badly in need of a neglected trim. "I don't know Remy. You're right, but we can't complain."

"Remy ain't stupid, he know dat." The southern boy growled at his one and only friend. His demonic eyes softened a bit at the other kid's discomfort. The last thing he needed to do was go snapping at Rowan. After all, he probably owed the guy his sanity.

"M' sorreh Rowan. Jest tired." Rowan nodded and they both resumed shoveling their meals while they could.

Again the harsh buzzing blared, signaling the operatives to move on to continue training. Remy wondered if all kids did this every day. He didn't think so, he had seen other kids in New Orleans they did go somewhere almost every day, but those places were nothing like this place. He and Rowan parted ways as they went on to the cruel and repetitive routines. Remy trained all day, according to what their possessors thought them most suited to. Because of his short background in thievery and pickpocketing and his considerable ability in that field, Remy was drilled in computer hacking, infiltrating security systems, advanced thievery, assassination, and so many other things that he cared not to keep track. And always there was combat: hand to hand, with his staff, gunfight, fighting with blades of all shapes and sizes, knife throwing, and wielding weapons that any decent person would consider criminally insane to place in an eight year old's hands. Sometimes he would to the wrong thing and cut himself or burn himself. Always the injuries were brushed over and they kept on pushing, no matter how much pain he was in. On and on it would go, seeming never to stop.

At last, like the voice of an angel, that buzzing signaled the end of the day. Remy fell to his knees, his bo staff clattering from his weak hands. This time he was able to stand before someone made him and he wobbled unsteadily to where his guard awaited him. The man shunted him out into the bland hallways. They came into the largest hallway, where the child operative trainees were herded to their 'rooms' every night. All the kids were swaying on their feet, so worn from the day some of their eyes were already closed, others supporting their slumping bodies. All were dressed in the standard training grey suits with the HYDRA patch sewn at the shoulders.

Remy spotted Rowan staggering among them and joined him in the flow. Rowan's eyes were also drooping and the two friends leaned on each other. They couldn't wait to collapse on the hard beds and escape into sleep, attempting to seize a scrap of peace and rest before the viscious circle began again.

As Remy's own eyes were closing, something caught his keen ears. His black and red eyes snapped open again as his interest was piqued. He could hear voices, never ones he had heard before. The most prominent was a grown woman's voice. It was regal but sent a shiver down his spine at its cold smoothness. What had really caught his attention was another voice, young and clear with a familiar twang that sent a pang through him as he recognized its southern root. Not Cajun, but definitely from the deep south. His interest was nagging him so insistently that he couldn't let it go unsatisfied.

He turned and hissed to his friend. "Rowan, follow me." Rowan looked at him like he had grown a third head.

"Are you crazy. We'll get caught."

"What's de worst dat could happen if we do? Extra hours are comin' our way anyway. If ya ain't comin', I'm a goin' myself." With no other explanation to his friend, the Cajun began to drag his feet so as to fall behind, looking for an opening to dart into the hallway they were approaching. Rowan sighed; he wasn't reckless, but he wasn't a coward either. His instincts told him something much worse than extra working hours would await them if they were caught out of line, but if his friend got busted, he wasn't going to be punished alone. With a similar slippery grace he fell back to join Remy.

The job would be tricky. Two guards always led the children in front while two more took the rear. Fortunately, Remy had been specifically trained to handle these situations. He wondered why these people bothered to guard them when they trained a select few to evade and escape conditions just like this. Maybe they were just stupid that way. His keen eyes noted everything there was to observe: how far back the rear guards were, the rotations of the security cameras mounted on the walls, how many kids were between them and the front and rear guards. Something crucially useful caught his eye. The guards in the rear didn't seem to be keeping track of the number of children they were escorting, and another was a faulty fluoroscent light above them that would flicker in a ratio of seven to three second periods: seven seconds of light and three seconds of dark. From his honed mind he guessed that at the current pace they were moving, they would pass the hallway from which the voices were emerging during one of the three seconds of darkness. He smiled deviously.

He breathed his plan into his friend's ear, who still didn't know why they were doing this but was going along with it anyway. The hallway was nearly level with them. Remy's eyes darted back to the rear guards and then to the front. The front guards were leading as they should, while the rear were distracted slightly with their hushed conversation. It was time.

"Now!" He hissed, and he and Rowan dived behind the wall as the light flickered off for mere moments before coming back on. They pressed their backs to the wall, waiting with baited breath for the rear guards to pass. When the coast was clear, Remy motioned them forward. They inched down the hall with as much stealth as their substantial training allowed them. Rowan leaned in and whispered to his comrade.

"Why exactly are we doing this Remy?" The other boy didn't whisper back but simply motioned to a doorway at the end of the hall which housed many gloomy doorways. This one however, was lit with the same white light as almost everywhere else. It was barely cracked but they could clearly hear the voices that were floating through as clear as a bell. They leaned in close enough to hear, but also far enough away to beat a hasty retreat into one of the black rooms in case someone were to emerge. Remy's ears pricked up again as the voices emerged again.

"This one is stubborn Madame Hydra. The whole way she would give no name."

"Does it really matter what her name is now that she belongs to us? All she needs is a number and that is good enough."

"Ah don't belong to no-body." An obstinate little voice with sweet southern sass piped up in indignation. Remy couldn't help himself. Ignoring the warning looks that Rowan was throwing his way, he scooted along the floor, not lifting his feet and forbidding any squeaking, until he was able to poke one dark eye around the doorframe. His breath caught slightly.

It was mostly a large and bare room with one chair at the center, in which sat a tall woman that Remy had never seen but had heard enough rumors about to take a good guess at who she was. The Supreme Hydra, ruler of the HYDRA organization. To Remy she looked old, but she couldn't be beyond twenty eight or so. Viper was the newest ruler of the terrorist organization, not long ago instated, but she had seized the operations in an iron fist without hesitation. She planned to extend HYDRA to the greatest prominence that it had ever known, by whatever means necessary. Her green hair was straight and cut to align to her chin. Her matching green lipstick and poison green eyes emphasized her resemblance to her namesake.

Now, those cold eyes were turned on a small group of her newest 'acquisitions', as her mother had called them. She referred to them as snotty brats and worse, but useful nonetheless. Or it was to be hoped. For now, one in particular was starting to try her nerves. She looked down with furious disdain on the little girl that was beginning to cause her a migraine. Remy's eyes were captivated by the same girl.

She was small and rather delicate looking. She looked about the same age as Remy had been when he was brought here, but her face was set in defiance. Her skin appeared sallow in the unnatural light, but Remy knew that in true sunlight it would be the color of cream. Mahogany curls of hair bounced around her round face. Remy noticed something peculiar; mixed with her dark auburn locks were streaks of snowy white that gleamed lovely even in this harsh light. He caught a brief glimpse of her eyes as she tossed her hair, acting sixteen instead of helpless six. Again, the light was marring her appearance, concealing the true color of her eyes, but they were still pretty he thought. Ocean gray with green flecks within. He stared for a good while, not knowing why since he had never stared at girls this way before.

The Supreme Hydra smirked at the little girl who had stood up to her. "Whether you like it or not, you do belong to HYDRA, and the sooner you accept that the easier on you it will be." She glared at the little girl who would give no name. The girl stood her ground but Remy thought he could see a flicker of fear in her eyes. Suddenly another girl stepped up beside her. This one was also unusual in appearance. She had a Native American look, but her hair was snowy white and her eyes were honey gold. Remy had never seen someone like that before.

The Native American girl whispered to the tiny southern belle, who nodded at last and stepped back. The Supreme Hydra seemed satisfied and motioned to the nearby guards.

"You take these new recruits to their rooms and make sure they're comfortable." She sneered at these words. The guards began to herd the small and frightened children towards the only door.

Remy whipped away and darted back to Rowan, shoving him into a dark doorway. Rowan gave him a scolding glare.

"Remy, how're we gonna get back to our rooms without them noticing we're gone now? They'll double check every room. When they see ours are empty, they'll raise the alarms."

"T'anks le Capitan evident. I got une idee. Just follow moi."

They crouched as the heavy steps of the guards filed past, waiting for the lighter shuffling of the children. With the speed of snakes, they sidled into line without anyone the wiser. Well, one noticed. The defiant girl with the striped hair shot them odd looks of confusion but Remy just turned his head enough for a wink. She blinked then looked away. He didn't know why he was disappointed about that.

Remy and Rowan kept their heads low so the guards wouldn't look closely and recognize them. They were perfectly silent until they reached the long and narrow corridor where all the cells were, because that was all they deserved to be called. The guards lazily directed the students to the free rooms, not noticing Remy and Rowan slipping into each of their respective cells without commotion. Once inside, both sank to the ground, exhausted and invigorated by their daring escapade. Remy wished he could speak with Rowan about their minor adventure, but Rowan had arrived here a lot later than Remy had and was much farther down the hall. With a sigh, Remy finally felt the postponed exhaustion flooding his weary limbs. He hobbled to his bed and flopped down. He regretted that as he rubbed his aching chest.

Remy rolled over, pulling his scanty blanket up his chest, trying to sleep. He was certainly worn out enough to, but his mind was racing. His thoughts just wouldn't leave that strange girl, and he knew he wouldn't sleep until it was put to rest somehow. He sat up in the bare room that he cursed every night for keeping him up with its constant glare, even with the lights out. How in the Sam hill was he going do anything? The only thing that would satisfy him would be to speak to her, but the doors were locked from the outside and any movement in the hallway after hours would get you busted faster than you could say 'Boo'. His well-trained eyes scanned the bare room. The solution was so simple he wondered if it had dropped from heaven. A large vent was set over the bed and the ceiling wasn't that high. Could it seriously be that easy?

No, he had forgotten. There were security cameras in every room. He knew they came on ten minutes after lights out. He wondered if this was out of a shred of consideration for their privacy or for some other reason. That ten minute interval had already passed. Luckily he and Rowan had made it back in time. Remy lay back, disappointment a heavy rock in his stomach. His questions wouldn't be satisfied tonight at the least. He swore to himself that tomorrow he would meet that girl and his curiosity would be satisfied. The boy laid back, for once his mind not occupied with cruel training and a longing for fresh air and sunlight that he hadn't seen in years.

xxxXXXxxx

The little girl was pushed unceremoniously into the cell of a room that was to be her new home. Her face was stoic to the last, until the door slammed and she was plunged into darkness. Then she crumpled and sat defeated. She didn't know why she had been brought here and her mind was still too young to comprehend what they could possibly want with her. Tears welled in her eyes but she blinked them away. They may have taken her, but they couldn't subdue her, so small as she was.

All the same, sorrow grew to a painful ache in her stomach and a small hint of concealed fear. She didn't want to sleep for the memories that were sure to haunt her into her dreams; but she was tired and her grey-green eyes began to blink closed. Sure enough, those minutes and hours of terror returned.

"Anna Marie, come inside. It's time for you to get to bed."

Anna Marie sulked. Irene was calling her in and it wasn't even dark outside yet. She felt rebellious, wondering what would happen if she refused to obey. After all, she had only been with Irene for about a month now and this lady wasn't her mother. Yet Anna Marie had to admit that she had been kindly to her: giving her treats, taking her out to the nearby park, and teaching her how to cook her favorite meals. Irene being blind, she couldn't do certain things around the house, but she taught her fiesty charge as well as she was able. So Anna trudged back toward the small house where she now lived.

Anna heard a gasp from Irene on the porch and she saw the blind woman stagger a bit, leaning back against the walls shading the porch. She looked to where she heard Anna moving towards her. She called her again but her voice had changed. It carried barely covered urgency and fear.

"Come Anna Marie, inside the house, quickly." The little girl was confused but picked up her pace, hurrying to Irene's side. The woman ushered her indoors and swiftly locked the deadbolt on the door. She shuffled forward using her cane to navigate to the windows, shutting the drapes and shades.

"Go and get ready for bed child." Her tone was brusque and had Anna a little worried, but she went. As she brushed her teeth she could hear Irene talking on the phone with someone. Her voice was so worried that Anna finished too soon and stuck her head back around the frame of the door.

"Yes Raven, I saw it clearly. There is no doubt, they're coming for her. I'm not definitely sure, but from the clarity of the vision I wouldn't be surprised if they arrived tonight."

There was silence as the speaker on the other end asked something of Irene. Irene responded again in a resigned tone. "What happens to me is not the main concern. Little Anna Marie is the priority. Get here as soon as you can." With that Irene hung up. Anna was curious but from the anxiety that was coming off Irene in waves she was wary of approaching her. Instead she headed off to her room in her onesy pajamas.

She lay in her bed, listening to Irene pacing the living room, the clack of her cane muffled by the carpet out there. Anna wondered what that phone conversation had meant. She tried to quell the fear that was fluttering in her stomach. She rolled over as the sun's last bloody rays touched through the shades at her window and the room grew darker. At last, her eyes drifted closed.

Anna was awoken several hours later by a soft knocking on the front door. She slipped out of bed to look. Irene had stood from her chair that she had been waiting in and headed to open the door. Suddenly she froze again.

"No." Her voice was despairing. A shattering crash as the front door burst asunder, dust billowing out in a cloud. Anna gasped and slammed her bedroom door. She was scared; what was happening? What would happen to Irene? She was too frightened to think straight, she just searched desperately for somewhere to hide. The little girl scrabbled under the bed, sneezing at the dust bunnies that tickled her nose. She heard loud voices and the voice of Irene it seemed was pleading. There was a weird nose, like a thump, and then a loud thud of something hitting the floor. Then heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, approaching her room. Anna held her breath, biting her tongue so as not to squeal with fear. Even at so young she knew what to do to avoid these scary people who were trying to find her. The door squeaked open and two pairs of big black boots entered, creaking ominously over the floor. Anna shrank away, wondering why no one was coming to help them. Unfortunately, the house where she lived with Irene was secluded and neighbors wouldn't hear the ruckus.

The bigger boots moved toward the bed and a rustling told her he was looking for her beneath the covers. The smaller boots pulled open the closet and searched there. Big Boots turned from the bed and Anna let out the faintest whimper of relief.

A massive gloved hand shot under the bed and seized her foot. Anna let out a scream of terror and clawed desperately as the big hand pulled her unrelentingly from beneath the bed. As she was tugged free from clinging to the bed frame she was yanked up and hauled struggling back to the living room.

Several firgures dressed completely in green and black stood around the living room. One stood over Irene who was kneeling, the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of her head. Irene heard the girl's plaintive screams and pleaded with their attackers.

"Don't hurt her. Please, leave the child be."

"We don't intend to hurt her." Replied one of the masked people, who seemed in charge. "In fact, that is the last thing we want. We have been told that this child shows promise for the future, and we intend to harness that usefulness for our cause. We hear also that you are a powerful precog yourself, but unfortunately for you, we have one already so we really have no use for you. Don't worry, we'll take good care of the girl. That is the least of your concerns."

With that, Anna was thrown over the shoulder of the man who held her and was carried from the house. The other operatives followed, except for the one guarding Irene and the leader. Anna stared at the hopelessness on Irene's face before Anna lost sight of her. She could hear voices inside for a minute longer, then a moment of silence. The shot rang out clearly to the stars, and Anna longed to clap her hands to her ears. Moments later the two men emerged from the house, the guard slipping his gun back into his belt.

"Irene? Irene?" Anna called in growing panic, but her cries were stifled by a cloth placed over her mouth and nose. Anna could feel tears leaking down as she passed out.

Anna bolted up in the hard bed. No, not Anna. She was nameless now. She had sworn to herself that even if those people could take everything else, they wouldn't take her name. That was the one thing that she could keep locked away where they could never find it. When she had awoken after being taken she found herself aboard a big plane of some sort with several other children. The girl without a name refused to show fear though it was growing steadily in her heart.

She rolled herself in a ball, thinking of that trip. The menacing guards, the terror of the other children, and her own uncertainty of what awaited her next. There had been some comfort, small though it was.

The girl who sat beside her leaned over. She was different, not like anyone Anna had ever seen before. Her hair was soft white like a summer moon, and her eyes were warm gold. Her white hair was tied into one long braid down her back, a shocking contrast against her tan skin.

"You okay?" The other little girl had asked.

Anna had just looked away. The other wasn't discouraged. "My name's Kayla. What's yours?"

"Ah don't have a name anymoah." She replied grouchily in her Mississippi voice. Kayla didn't ask about this but simply glanced down, her honey eyes growing somber in a way that was unnatural on a child's face.

"I'm scared too." Anna glared but saw the understanding. Her defensive stance softened, and she nodded in acknowledgement. Without consciously noticing, they leaned into each other, taking comfort in the presence of a kindred spirit.

Arriving at their destination they were brought immediately before the Supreme Hydra. This was a new practice, as Viper wanted to personally make sure the new acquistions were worth the time and trouble. Before the scornful woman's stare, Anna felt both frightened and furious. The woman was intimidating, but the child's attitude and sass was enough to make her indignant that this lady could think and look on them as her pets or work animals. Thankfully, Kayla helped her back down from her tirade before things grew out of hand.

Now the nameless was alone. She wished for someone to be there for her. She didn't think that she could miss Irene's steady and maternal ways as much as she did, but now her heart ached for her blind foster mother. With nothing else to keep her from her dark thoughts, she rolled in her bed to face the wall on her left. She hoped the walls were thin. The girl knocked lightly and waited. Her breath let out in relief as she heard the answer tap away. She whispered as loudly as she dared. "Kayla?"

"I'm here."

"Ah'm scared. Do ya think we'll be here forevah?"

"I hope not. I miss my momma already."

"Me too." The nameless girl mumbled to herself. Irene was probably the closest thing she had known to a mother.

Another knock sounded on the wall. She responded. "What?"

"What do I call you?"

She thought for a moment. She had never liked Anna Marie, too girly, but the name was hers and she wanted to keep it safe. She had always been a loner by nature, and though she trusted Kayla, she wasn't ready to give it up. Then she recalled something that one of her first grade teachers had called her because of her anti-social behavior. Somehow, it fit. She whispered sleepily back.

"Y'all can call me Rogue."

I'm trying to keep their personalities similar to how they really are, with the side affects that being raised in HYDRA would bring. Hope you liked it.