Chapter 1

3 Days Earlier…

"Did you hear about SHIELD?"

Jen, or Creep as she was more commonly known due to her ridiculously long body and low BMI, was rambling on and on about what had happened in New York - yes alien invasions are terribly terrifying and exciting; what happened to Iron Man - no he wasn't dead, thankfully, and a terrorist group was now gone; what happened to SHIELD - yes, it was heartbreaking, really, that a super-secret agency was gone and marred forever by the evil that sprung from it; Captain America - god, how could anyone think this man was anything but righteous was beyond her; and everything else – read, the shit that happened in Britain with Thor – related to the superhuman group known as the Avengers.

You could say she was a bit obsessed with the outside wonders and glamor of the big city. Kinda helped there were superhot superheroes there. According to her, at least.

Bryn sighed and readjusted the shoulder strap of her bag, kicking a lone and out of place rock from the sidewalk, "Yes, Creep, I've heard. You haven't let me un-hear it for the past three months."

Jen scowled and swatted at Bryn, "You know you enjoy talking about it."

Bryn rolled her eyes, because Jen knew she enjoyed talking about the happenings, specifically loved debating the rights and wrongs – i.e. city officials railing the Avengers and placing blame on them as soon as the Chitauri Invasion was over – but since the emergence of hydra in SHIELD, it was all Jen could talk about and Bryn was talked out. She leveled a glare at Creep, "You just wish something exciting would happen here. I don't appreciate you wishing evil on us."

Creep stuck her tongue out at her friend and completely ignored the last part of Bryn's statement, "There's plenty of exciting things going on 'round here. Sigma Tau Delta is holding a blood drive."

An involuntary shiver raced up Bryn's spine and she moaned, "Don't remind me. Every time I'm in the library the STD crew is there, waiting in the bowels of the building, pouncing on everyone that walks by to the archives. I haven't left without being accosted."

"Well," she drawled and gave Bryn a look that was anything but sympathetic, "if you would just agree to it maybe they'd leave you alone."

"You know I don't do needles."

Jen rolled her eyes in long suffered annoyance, "Fine, there's always the less exciting things the student government sets up. Like the free flu shot station in the Student Center."

Bryn eyed her warily and slowed her pace, because Creep had conspicuously herded her toward said building, "Needles, remember?"

Jen craned her neck to look over her bony shoulder and gave Bryn her customary death glare that packed enough heat to cook the frozen hot pockets, trapped forever in their icy death beds, in the freezer, "You remember when you got sick last winter and you promised me that you would get vaccinated this year?"

Bryn wheeled backwards, blue eyes bright and scanning for escape routes, because she certainly did remember that and that didn't bode well for her, at all, "I was delusional and didn't know what I was promising."

Creep pivoted on her heel faster than Bryn ever thought possible and grabbed at her, hauling Bryn forward, "No take backs, I refuse to clean up your non-alcohol induced vomit ever again. 'Sides, I've already signed you up," and one of those thin, Maleficent-like brows arched up, daring Bryn to argue, "We're going now."

Bryn stopped, risking life and limb (i.e. the arm Creep had in a death grip), ridged and slack-jawed, "You can't do that! You know I don't do spur of the moment things! I need time to – to," she threw her hands up and groaned because she had explained this one too many times to be able to put up a fight again. She needed time to acclimate, time to steel her nerves and work up to having someone stab her with pointy things. It's how she worked, no matter how utterly ridiculous it was, dammit!

"Stop being a baby," Creep moaned with a dramatic eye roll and foot stomp before tugging on Bryn's arm again with her harpy talons, "It's a small poke in the arm and it's done."

Bryn wished something would fall from the sky and squish her. Her eyes narrowed to slits, "Just so you know, the next time a spider is crawling over your bed I'm just going to sit back and cackle while you do your freak out dance and screech at me to kill it."

Creep swallowed hard, squared her shoulders and marched onwards with jellied legs, totally unaffected.

/

Bryn read over the form again, not quite understanding why they needed to know what she was majoring in, or where she was born, or if she liked tacos, or if she considered herself to be an introverted or outgoing person.

The fuck was all this?

She flipped through two more pages of highly personal and random questions. Surely this wasn't for the flu shot?

"Creep, what is all this?"

Jen was dutifully answering all the questions, hand scrawling and looping, nearly upside down due to her left handedness. She stopped, pressing the eraser end into her thick bottom lip as she contemplated a question, "Student Government, I'm sure. Do you think I'm more boyish or girlish?"

Bryn quirked a brow, "You're 110% weird, you painted your dog's nails, stuck her in a tutu and put a wig on her." She turned back to her questionnaire, ignoring the muffled sound of indignant murmurs coming from her right, "This is ridiculous, why would they want to know if you 'tend procrastinate' or if you 'eat toast buttered or not'?"

Creep slumped down in the chair, eyes never leaving her questionnaire, and stretched her long bony legs out, "Probably taking a poll, chill out Bryn."

"It's stupid and I'm not doing it," because Bryn was totally mature.

Jen huffed and yanked the clipboard from Bryn's hands, "Fine, I'll do it for you."

A few minutes later and couple more after Creep shoved Bryn's now complete form back into her lap, a squat woman, dressed in offensively bright scrubs, stepped halfway out of the door to conference room they had set up in and called, "Ms. McMaster's."

Jen's head popped up and stood, glaring balefully at Bryn, "Hope it hurts, you ninny."

"Hope you get hives on your ass."

Creep snorted and kicked Bryn's foot, "See ya in Dr. Tucker's class."

"See ya," Bryn smiled at her retreating back and looked back down at her clipboard, the questionnaire filled out in Creep's loopy scrawl. She sighed and began doodling in the margins.

It was thirty minutes later when the door reopened and the squat nurse called, "Ms. Pendergrass."

Bryn stood and willed away the flopping nausea in her gut. When she stepped inside the door the nurse plucked the clipboard out of her hand and began flipping through it, "Interesting answers."

Bryn's brow scrunched together, "What?"

The nurse ignored her and waved toward a chair, "Go sit."

Bryn watched as she bustled around the room and couldn't quite fight the panic that swelled in her chest, something weird was going on. The room itself looked normal, boring butter cream colored the walls, stock photos and cheap carpet.

Then a thought struck her, Creep never came out of the room. Matter of fact, no one had come out of this room. Her eyes trailed the walls, locating a door on the opposite side from where she came in. Some of the hysteria died down.

The nurse plopped down heavily on the chair sitting off to the side and grabbed Bryn's arm, settling her elbow on the arm rest and her wrist to the ceiling. Bryn stopped breathing when she swiped the inside of her elbow with disinfectant.

She snatched her arm away when the nurse began to wrap that stupid rubber band thing around her arm, "The hell are you doing? This is supposed to be a flu shot."

The nurse smiled at her condescendingly, "When's the last time you've had a flu shot?"

Bryn bristled, "Not long enough ago to have forgotten how they're usually given."

"Dear, it's an intravenous vaccine," she explained slowly, the smile on her lips stretched thin, "therefore I need a vein to put it in."

It didn't make her relax because the whole situation felt wrong and had the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She eyed the nurse a while longer before sighing, "Fine." She threw her arm back onto the rest and looked away as the rubber circled her arm and closed tight against it.

She balled up her hand involuntarily, insides flopping around like fish, and tensed as the woman leaned away for a moment before righting herself. The nurse smacked her arm lightly and then a sharp flare of pain pierced her.

Bryn gasped and whipped her head back around, just in time to see the last remnants of the liquid in the vial being pushed into her vein, a dark blue that made her arteries look black as it spread, and to see the scary gauged needle pulling out of arm, "What the hell was that?"

"Flu vaccine, dear," she answered innocently, eyes wide and smile light.

It was nearly instantaneous – the searing that ran up her arm and into her chest, locking her lungs up so forcefully and completely. She slumped heavily in the chair and panted, trying to suck in air. As her vision began spotting and fuzzing, a man had appeared in front of her, murmuring to the nurse.

He was watching her closely, dark eyes flicking over her – assessing her, and in a flash his hand shot out, fingers hard and bruising against the pulse point on her neck.

"Just like the others." He didn't sound disappointed, just resigned as he dropped his hand to his pocket to pull out a cellphone.

The nurse cocked her head to the side and tapped her chin, "I thought for sure she'd be different."

The man's furious typing ceased as he arched a brow at the woman and huffed an annoyed breath, "Apparently not. Put her with the others," he turned back to Bryn and narrowed his eyes, "Wrap this up, now."

/

Present Day…

The punching bag, designed and reinforced specifically for Captain America like strength and endurance, flew towards the wall, bleeding sand as it went.

It landed heavily and the fabric ripped the length of the bag.

Steve breathed hard through his nose and wiped away the beads of sweat rolling into his eyes absentmindedly. That was the third one. Steve snorted. So much for Tony's R&D supposedly having made an indestructible bag.

He toed the spilt sand and sighed. His mind was anything but settled, which is what the monotonous punching was for, and he couldn't help as it drifted back towards the conversation he'd had previously;

"You've at least sent out a bulletin, haven't you?"

Tony continued to fiddle with the code in front of him, "Never occurred to me."

Steve's mouth thinned and Stark could feel the disapproving scowl on the other man's face burning holes into his skull, "Tony -," he began but Stark turned lazily in his chair and gave Steve a withering glare.

"Sarcasm," he replied with a despairing huff, "Is completely lost on you." He rubbed his tired, bloodshot eyes, "Look, I sent it out when we first got wind of what was happening," then he turned back to working on his project, "Isn't my fault that some of the idiots refused to listen."

Steve's fists tightened around his arms, "What are we looking for?"

Tony's head dropped and he glared at Steve from the corner of his eye. He watched as Stark worked through his irritated exasperation, his eyes running over the code once more, "I suppose you couldn't attach yourself to someone else for a while, could you," Tony sighed and kicked at the ground to spin himself towards Steve again. He pointed a stylus with one hand while the other rested on his bouncing leg, "We've been scanning for anything unusual."

When he didn't elaborate, Steve raised a brow and Tony rolled his eyes again, "Look, we're looking for anomalies. Hydra's good at hiding and since that last attack in Arkansas, they've went underground," Tony spun the stylus between his fingers, "Why can't you go bug Coulson, I'm sure he'd love for you to sign," he trailed off before waving his hands, "eh, something."

Steve stood there for a moment and Stark eyed him with barely constrained agitation, "Did you not hear me? Shoo, vamoose," Tony demanded, waving him off towards the other side of the room where Coulson and his team were talking amongst themselves.

Steve gritted his teeth and turned on his heel, still unused to how flippant Tony could be – how badly the man still got under his skin.

He recalled that the room was quiet, people staring at screens unblinkingly and found himself feeling awfully out of place.

Natasha and Clint had both been silently staring at each other, a flick of Clint's fingers as he twirled a bullet between them had been the only movements aside from breathing and blinking that Steve had been able to catch from the two.

Thor was oddly subdued, though his partner in crime was currently being stared down by Natasha, it still had made Steve uneasy. The demi-god was never still and was always doing something. Though at that moment he seemed completely content to idly finger the leather loop on Mjolnir and gaze out the window with his crystal-bright eyes.

Banner had been quietly working in a corner, a hand on his hip and the other flying over the screen he was staring at. Every once in a while he'd rub his neck or push his glasses up his nose or he would run a hand through his messy mop and sigh.

Steve had left shortly afterwards because there wasn't anything he could do or contribute.

He sighed, shaking his head and walked back over to the supply room to grab another punching bag. As he slung the glorified sack of sand over his shoulder, Natasha called him.

"Yea?" He replied as he rounded into the gym.

Her brow arched, looking pointedly at the bag over his shoulder and Steve just shrugged, "Tony needs to go back to the drawing board."

"I can see that," she said, observing the pile of sand and split fabrics in the corner.

"What did you need?" He asked as he hung the bag, hands falling to the sides to steady it.

Natasha walked up behind it and held the bag. Steve merely looked at her, "You sure?"

She rolled her eyes, "Just try not to send me flying across the room."

Steve grinned, "Yes, ma'am."

Natasha waited until Steve fell into a rhythm, her body straining against each hit, before she talked again, "Coulson and his team just flew out."

Steve's body halted its motions and his face that had been tight in concentration, morphed into the Captains as he looked up, "Did they find something?"

Natasha's muscles relaxed and she stepped around the bag, "It isn't much of a lead," she sighed, "Banner is still trying to coax some facilities up north to let him use their spectrometers."

Steve's brows shot up, "Gamma radiation?"

She nodded, "Some of the autopsies showed high levels of it. Some didn't, but he's hoping he can find trace signatures from where they might have manufactured it."

He nodded, frustration welling up in him, "What about that last college they hit? Can't you get some information out of them?"

"If you're talking about the college itself, we've already gotten everything we could from them," she answered, "If you're talking autopsies, we can't."

Steve's brows shot up again, "Why not?"

Natasha fisted a hand on her hip, "Because they just vanished. It doesn't follow the one pattern that Hydra had," she ruffled her hair, a sign of agitation – one of her only tells that Steve had learned from his time spent with her, "They were dumping the dead at the morgue before vanishing, but this time, nothing."

"What do you suppose that means?"

Natasha, her eyes hovering just above his shoulder, glanced up at Steve and a sense of dread pooled in his stomach, "It means they succeeded."