Okie dokie. Here's another, kinda just jumps right in, but that's what I want to do. Just get right in there, and get to the good stuff. Wow, I am messed up.

Guest: Thank you! I'm glad you're interested!

: Thanks, hon! I'm glad you like it!

Enjoy!

Pierce sat in front of the Asset. His stare was blank, waiting for instructions like he'd done so many times before. He didn't feel anything anymore. He was beyond that. Wiped too many times, had his identity taken away. He didn't even know he was human anymore, so used to being controlled, shaped, manipulated. He was a perfect soldier, completing his missions without asking questions. Just what they wanted. And just what Pierce needed.

"One target, level two. She escaped yesterday with some valuable confidential information." Pierce held up a picture of his daughter. "I want her back alive by whatever means necessary. She needs to be taught a lesson, and you are the perfect teacher. Be ready to leave within the hour."

"Are you sure about this?" Rumlow asked as he left the vault with Pierce. "He's gonna rough her up pretty good."

"Order comes through pain. She needs to suffer in order to see the mistakes she's made. I want you to set the extraction site outside the city. I want STRIKE ready and waiting when he returns. You are to bring both back here to await further instruction from me. She's no match for him, and unless she is bleeding out, you are to follow my instructions to a T. Do I make myself clear."

"Yes, sir." Brock said, smirking to himself. The little brat didn't know what she was in for.

It had been three days. I had ditched the train, taking two busses and hitchhiking a little to get to Tulsa. I was surprised they hadn't sent out a search party, that my face wasn't plastered everywhere with big red letters spelling MISSING under it. I would have thought they would be a little more desperate to find me. Granted, they could be on my trail, one step behind me and I would never know it until they found me. I didn't know why they would search for me. It's not like I actually read anything. I just got a quick glance.

I tried not to think about what HYDRA would be like now. They were some sick people though, considering they were originally Nazis. But the idea that my dad was a part of it made me a little sick. Sure, he had some pretty twisted logic, but to go that far...I had so many questions that I necessarily didn't want to find answers to.

I spent the night in a homeless shelter, not sure where I was going to go. If they were following me, they were most likely going to search big cities. Big cities meant lots of cameras, and easier access. It would be easier to hide, but it was riskier than finding a place to lay low in a smaller town. I could catch a train to California, then head North from there. Maybe sneak through Canada and head even further. Someplace they'd never think to look. If they were even looking for me. I mean, I did happen to see something that was confidential and possibly dangerous, so I don't know why they wouldn't be looking...but it wasn't like I was going to tell anyone. I had no one to tell. No reason to tell. I just wanted to get out of a crazy man's house, and that had just been my excuse.

I had a plan to bus from Tulsa to Oklahoma City, then train to Fort Worth, then start heading West. But, the next bus didn't leave until tomorrow, so I was stuck in Tulsa once again. I was quickly running out of money, and knew I'd need to find a way to stock up fast. I couldn't use my card because they'd be able to trace that. I could resort to begging, though I didn't exactly look the part.

I made the mistake of staying out later that night. I should have found some place to lay low, like the bus station, but I decided to move around. Get a feel of the city, get some food for the trip. I should have known they would have moved at night. Not risked being seen during the day, where I could cause a scene and compromise their "rescue."

I was passing by an alleyway when I was grabbed. The force that grabbed me was so strong, my shoulder popped painfully, and I knew it had to be dislocated. I was thrown back against the side of a building, my head hitting the concrete hard, my body falling as my world went blurry. A boot pressed against my chest, rolling me on my back. I blinked, trying to clear my blurry vision as the figure above me swam. I was probably concussed.

I couldn't see who it was, their face covered, actually most of their body was. They leaned down closer to me, pressing harder against my chest, and I was scared the heavy boot was going to break something important.

"Please." I gasped, grabbing at air, trying to grip onto consciousness.

My attacker didn't say anything, just raised his fist, bringing it down on my face, and that was it. My world went black.

My head was pounding when I woke back up. I felt like I'd been hit by a Mack truck. I was leaning against a wall, my shoulder bent at an awkward angle, and I could feel it swelling by the minute. My face felt swollen as well, my nose aching, my right eye pulsing, my lip was bruised, cut, and it was either blood or drool dripping down my chin. I wasn't sure. I tried moving, but immediately regretted that decision. Aching pain rippled through my body and I groaned, stilling immediately.

I was toast. There was no way I was getting away in this state. Not like I could get away. Whoever it was that caught me meant business. Probably hired by my dad...or HYDRA...to find me and bring me back so they could kill me. I didn't know why he didn't just do it. It would be a relief for me.

I was so lost in thought, I didn't hear him approach me, until his glove-clad hands were on my shoulder, jerking it back. I screamed as my shoulder popped back in place, the sound echoing around me. The man, who I could see now, didn't even bother covering up the sound. Tears, big, hot tears fell down my face as I held my arm, trying to avoid aggravating my already splitting headache.

We were in some kind of abandoned warehouse, with high windows, and only one door out, which my captor promptly sat himself in front of. He had various weapons strapped to his body, and probably more under the jacket he wore. His mouth was covered by a mask, and he had a pair of goggles covering his eyes. His dark hair hung down to his shoulders, unkempt and flat, like it hadn't been cut in a long time. It probably hadn't, actually. His goggled eyes were on me, well, I thought they were, his left hand resting on the gun strapped to his thigh. Daring me to move and try to escape.

I wasn't that dumb. I was injured, dizzy and couldn't even stand. I wasn't about to go running off, well try to anyways, and attempt escape. That would be a death wish for sure. Or at least give me more injuries.

I was starting to get a little nauseous, probably from my concussion, and the hunger eating away at me. I hadn't eaten since lunch the day he took me. Which god knows how long ago that was. I could have been out for a long time. I grew more and more queasy, and I tried to focus on one spot, one place on the wall, but the world was spinning.

I turned my head, vomiting what little was left in my stomach onto the floor. The man by the door didn't flinch. Nor did he move. He was making his message very clear, asserting his dominance in the situation. He was in control, and I was not going anywhere.