A/N: I apologize for putting the author's note at the beginning of the chapter; I generally try not to do that anymore. HOWEVER, I have to put one up before you continue reading to let you know that this story is a sequel—yes, a sequel—to an OC fiction I've written called At Day's End. You can find it in the My Stories tab on my profile page. And because it is a sequel, the character of Holly Martin and her actions and interactions in this story are not going to make any sense if you haven't read it. I know, I'm asking a lot for you to read that story before you read this one, but please, give it a chance. And yes, it is a Steve Rogers/OC, as this will be, too.

Also, this story is UNBETA'ED. This is mostly due to my personal schedule being a little different from others', and therefore harder to coalesce with someone else's. As such, I do proofread, edit, and restructure my own writing. I try my best, but I am not perfect.

That being said, allow me to throw in the disclaimer before we get started: I don't own anything from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Nothing. Nada. Zip. I also don't own any other film references I make in the dialogue, specifically from Star Wars. I definitely don't own that, either.

Are we good? Have we covered everything? Well, then, on with the story!

That icy February evening, she found herself indoors, safe from the elements, her attention riveted elsewhere. She stared at the screen, seriousness in her frame and face as she watched the evening news play out. The story she'd been waiting for had finally aired, ever since she'd heard the whispers, so different from the ones that usually surrounded her. Little more was revealed than what she'd been told, but the reporter onscreen seemed confident in his retelling of the facts, of the mysterious persona cleaning up the streets. Her fingers toyed with the dog tags hanging around her neck, picking them up and letting them drop on her chest as the reporter kept speaking. Crime in a major city was nothing new; after all, she lived in Washington, D.C., and the place wasn't exactly Nicetown, U.S.A. But a masked vigilante coming down in the place of the police? That wasn't something one saw every day. Although, given what she'd seen and done over the past eleven months, it really shouldn't have intrigued her all that much.

After all, Holly Martin was dating a superhero herself; masked men in armor were becoming second nature, strange as that sounded.

"Too much television will rot your brain."

And speak of the devil, there he was, unclasping the chin strap of his helmet and setting it off to the side with his shield. His blond hair was matted down, though he swiped at it to fix it as he moved further into the space. Steve Rogers, Captain America and leader of the Avengers, had returned. A mission had drawn him and the team away just a day or two previously, busting a major black market operation that was turning over HYDRA intel as well. Wounds and criminals tended to, the team had come back to the Tower, set on breaking codes and interpreting the data files. However, given that he knew a special person had taken a trip up to see him for the weekend, he'd snuck out as quickly as possible to his quarters to find her.

Holly smiled at him, big brown eyes creasing at the corners and a smarmy smirk blooming on her lips. Getting out of her seat, she tripped down the hall to him, giving him a kiss that he happily accepted. He was home, he was safe in her arms, and she in his, at that moment.

"Thank you, old man," she said, wrinkling her nose as the scent of sweat and something she could only describe as 'gym bag funk' hit her. The mission, evidently, had been a very physically engaging one. "At least leave your boots in the front entry, please."

"You're welcome, and I'm glad to see you too, dear," Steve snarked back, raising an eyebrow but complying with her wishes. Getting out of the uniform was not his first priority upon getting back, but he could tend to it now. Once his boots were removed and tucked towards the wall by the door, he padded into the living room. As she sat down again, he pulled the snaps away from his neck piece, pausing in his ministrations as the newscast registered. Bending over and leaning his arms along the back of the couch, he let his fingers drop along her shoulder, absently tracing patterns along her sleeve as he watched. When a police sketch of a masked fellow with no eyes and a sharp chin flashed across the screen, he exhaled softly. "That again."

Holly nodded, raking a hand through her hair. "It's all anyone on the street can talk about. Or at least at the coffee shop I went to down the street was full of it. A man in a mask, trashing gangbangers left, right, and center. Some people speculate that he's working for you guys on the DL."

His brow furrowed at her use of slang, but he still got the gist of what she meant. When she looked up at him, she could see the disquiet in his bright gaze, and her tongue could not hold back on another question.

"You all have been keeping an eye on this situation, right? I mean, Hell's Kitchen is right there."

She gestured vaguely towards the west, her knowledge of the New York City layout not totally ingrained in her memory, like it was in his. Still, Steve gave her mental credit for being somewhat close.

"We've been trying to," he confessed, recalling how over the last couple of weeks Natasha had been following the blips on the radar close to home. To think that this was occurring under their noses for some time now…HYDRA was very consuming. "Criminals around here do tend to hide away from the major players, which is why this...whoever he is, is able to get at them more quickly than we have been. I hate to say it, but the New Yorkers don't involve us unless it is something much bigger than that. Something that can't be contained to a borough or two."

"Like aliens coming through a wormhole," Holly replied, his nod to her allusion confirming it.

"Their town, their turf, their problem, which is probably how this guy thinks, too. Still, he has been moving faster than the NYPD, which is..."

"Disconcerting?"

Steve shook his head, staring at his hands as he peeled off his fingerless gauntlets. "Puzzling. Disconcerting would imply that I'm more upset about it than I am."

Holly's eyebrows inclined slightly, taking the gauntlets from him and setting them on the coffee table. "And you're not."

He sighed, straightening his stance and hooking his thumbs in his belt. "It's more that I'm wondering if there will have to be a meeting sometime down the road."

"To set him straight?" she asked, not sure that would be the best course to take. Steve, however, was not of that mind.

"Not exactly. I don't disagree with what is going on, but I'm not comfortable with the fact that he's doing it without our knowing about it."

She snickered. "Closet control freak."

He gestured at the screen, her remark rolling off his back. "I'm a concerned individual. A concerned individual who happens to lead a team specifically designed to stem problems like criminal kingpins and mafiosos, but somehow this guy beats us to the punch."

"Literally, it seems," she retorted, wincing as images of the beaten and broken thugs being towed off in cuffs flashed across the screen. Shaking her head again, she muttered, "God, the world is a much stranger place than it used to be."

There had been a time in her life when the oddest occurrence had been limited to finding two yolks in one egg or getting home in rush hour traffic in under an hour. But that was before the helicarrier disaster, before she'd been directed to find an almost-dead body, before…well, before Steve, frankly. Actually, if she wanted to get technical, the blame could be laid directly at Tony Stark's feet. When the billionaire playboy made his famous announcement to the world all those years ago, Holly Martin didn't think such things could ever personally affect her life, her world. Boy, was she proven very, very wrong.

Steve shrugged, choosing that moment to come around the couch and sit next to her, his palm resting on her knee. "In my experience, it's always been a little sideways. You're just more inclined to acknowledge it as time goes on."

"I suppose," she acknowledged his point. Sighing, she continued, "But with all these advanced people coming out of the woodwork over the last few years, I feel like I'll have to roll around in toxic waste and gain radioactive superpowers just to keep up."

Steve chuckled at the mental image, smiling at her.

"Too good for injections and Vita-rays?"

Sticking out her tongue at him, she giggled, "Too outdated for my taste."

He held up a finger then, pointing it at her and adopting a mock serious tone. "That's twice in one night that you've called me old in some way, shape, or form. Keep pushing it, missy."

"Oh, yeah, what will you do?" she wondered, smirking playfully and poking his armored chest. "I dare you, give me a little what-for."

His blue eyes darkened slightly, her teasing stirring him. "I'll show you what-for."

"Promises, promises," she sing-songed, her heart beating a little faster as he continued to look at her that way.

"This is one I can keep," he said, sliding his hand from her knee up her thigh, his very real presence reinforcing the point.

He watched as she carefully lifted his hand off, rising from the couch and taking a few steps away, the gleam in her eye promising mischief. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder at him, licking her lips and parting them enough to speak. Though no sound issued forth, he could clearly understand the words she mouthed, egging him on. Old man.

That did it. Immediately Steve was on his feet, chasing after her as she darted away, laughter trailing behind her. Giving his aptitude for strategic planning (she would use that as the excuse, rather than the fact that he was much, much faster than her), he cut off her escape down the far hall, backing her against the wall and pinning her there. Struggling against him was like trying to push past a stone wall, but still she tried, arching into him in an attempt to distract him. It only made him push back, his body overpowering hers.

"I told you!" he grunted, seizing her wrists and pinning them between their chests. "Now take it back."

She wriggled once more, snorting at his demand. "Nope."

"I'm not going to let go until you do," he warned her, the tone in his voice not as stern as he wished it to be. Inclining his head, he tried to keep his expression grim, but she saw right through that façade. She blew out a breath, her dark eyes dilating as she stared him down.

"Am I supposed to keep pretending that this bothers me? Because if that's what you're expecting," she told him, arching against him once more, "sorry to disappoint you."

No longer bothering with the pretense, he bent his head further, his lips capturing hers. Her mouth parted, tongue sliding along the seam of his lips until he let her in, moaning as he met her tongue with his. Freeing her wrists, his hands became otherwise occupied with her dark hair, her hips, her back, while the pads of her fingers gripped tightly on his armor, stymied by it. After a few moments, they broke apart, to breathe. Steve pressed his forehead against hers, lids still closed. He let the quiet sit around them a second or two before speaking.

"Come on."

Holly had to hand it to him; he was persistent, if nothing else. Deciding that it would just be better to get on with it, she conceded, "You're not old. Nerfherder."

"Thank you, Princess." Sporting his half grin, smug victory in it, he bussed her lips again, a light brush that sent tingles down her spine.

Inhaling sharply, she turned her head to the side, rolling her gaze up to the ceiling as the odor of his uniform penetrated the haze in her mind. "You certainly smell like a vigorous young man. Is it possible to wash the weave and kevlar, or is it more of a hose-down deal?"

"You'd be surprised," Steve responded, his grin subsiding a little as she grimaced at the implications. "I'll go shower."

"Appreciate it, sweetheart." Noting the downturn of his face, she grabbed his hand before he got too far, squeezing it gently. "And I am glad you made it back safe."

His fingers curled tightly around hers, his other hand reach out to brush the loose strands of her hair behind her ear. "I know. I am, too."

Releasing her, he paused at the bathroom door, glancing back at her curiously.

"How glad?" he asked. A deviant little smile graced her lips, her eyebrows inclining a fraction.

"Oh, you might get some idea, later."

"Now who's making promises?" he returned, his own expression matching hers. She shook her head, waving off his words.

"Shower or it definitely won't happen."

"Okay, I'm going..." He disappeared for a second before popping his head back out the door. "By the way, happy St. Valentine's Day. I got you a little something, but it'll have to wait until I'm done."

That said, he shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving Holly alone with the warmth of her heart and the coolness of her thoughts. Maybe the world was stranger, she thought as she meandered into the bedroom, extracting her Valentine's Day gift for him from its hiding place (this time, she would be ahead of him in regards to pleasant surprises). But, she mused as she began to shimmy on her stockings, it wasn't all bad. She would just have to take them as they came.

xXxXxXx

The heavy, bolted door on the container buzzed, alerting the pair within of the arrival of others. Identical eyes glanced at one another, silently communicating before drifting towards the bodies spilling out of the walls, the ceiling, even the floor. Hired agents and metal androids were interspersed, all running straight towards them, their screaming reverberating in their ears.

Refusing to be impressed, the taller of the two snorted, shaking the white strands of hair that had fallen into his face before charging ahead. The smaller one looked on, standing her ground and turning her hands. A red aura surrounded them, twisting and sparking as she followed her brother's lead. It was a simple plan, one that they had recently turned over when forced into seclusion, away from the main compound. He would distract, and she would destroy.

He blitzed the humans, knocking them over before they could properly see him, well-timed jabs and punches flattening them. The robots were tougher, more of a problem…obtiaž, he would say, though he was often scolded for straying out of the common language. However, in the heat of the moment, he hardly cared about his words and their origin; the programmed bots required his attention. These could not be manipulated on the inside. Rather, he twisted and turned around them, using the speed of his feet to his advantage to slam into them, split them to and through the core.

In the wake of the fallen, the sister arrived, palms spread and fingers contorting, the redness hovering around them spilling into the exposed men like dye into water. Their shouts echoed in the massive hall, the horrors of their minds taking over and allowing her to move on. This force that ran in her exploded out, blasting into droids who had broken off from the pack, thinking her an easier target than her brother. Her mouth curled up at the corners. She would show them how wrong they were.

Though apart, the siblings moved in tandem, in great harmony as they knocked and destroyed one after the other, their plan coming to fruition. However, though they were doing well, not all the foes they faced were easily overcome. A lone sentry, hidden in the decayed shack on the fringes of the battles, raised his weapon, the girl centered dead in the crosshairs of his scope. He waited, waited until she was distracted by her brother being pinned by an android, the stunning mechanism descending towards his face. As she ran to him, the sentry saw his shot. Calming himself, he squeezed the trigger.

The sensor in the back of the young woman's vest buzzed, followed shortly by the one situated in the chest of her brother's. The overhead lights dimmed for a moment before snapping on at full capacity. Breathing hard, the young woman took no delight in her progress, ignoring the incapacitated in favor of helping her brother shrug off the powered-down android. Her eyes snapped upward, unwittingly meeting the gaze of another, half snarling as she gave her sibling a hand up. Both of their attentions were riveted to an observation deck high above them, awaiting their fate.

Above it all, Baron Von Strucker watched, the expression on his face impassive. Behind the solid glass of the observation deck, he saw it all, and but for the minor twitch of his lips, no one could say for sure if he was pleased or not with the progress being made. The demonstration had, save for a few minor hiccups, been a success. The doctors surrounding the baron looked on, uncertain if they should speak or not. The twins were extraordinary, but they were still making mistakes. And the baron did not handle mistakes well.

The wheels of his mind were churning as he examined them, watching as they had gone beyond their duty and acquitted themselves in the simulated tests. It was nothing new, really, if he were to be cynical about it. These subjects, these survivors, had reached higher heights than he had ever anticipated, particularly after being exposed to the power of the scepter stolen from the Asgardian years ago…and living. Thriving, actually; the two seemed to thrive on discourse and chaos, and here he was, able to reap the rewards of such a bounty. They were proving to be more powerful as the days went on. However, they were not ready yet; any man of rank in an army knew when his recruits were ready for battle, and these two weren't there. Not yet. A few more experiments with the scepter, a few more touches to the plan, and then…

"Sir?" The timidity in the doctor's voice was barely masked, and the baron had to bite his tongue to quell his amusement at the other fellow's obvious fear. Rather he gave a short nod to the glass, pivoting on his heel and marching towards the exit.

"Very good. They are very good," he murmured, noting the wave of relief spreading from person to person at his pronouncement. Turning to one of his subordinates, he retrieved a slip of paper from his pocket and handed to him. "Inform Doctor List of their progress, and send him these coordinates. We move out tonight."

"But, sir—" one of the others attempted to interject. A wave of the baron's hand pulled him up short, and the rest waited with bated breath.

"The net is closing in. If we wish to continue our work, all of it, we must move out…before the Avengers get too close."

Their current location, a training facility deep in the forests of Germany, had fallen into disarray and disrepair after being abandoned for years. It could not be easily shored up and fortified…but the baron knew of a place that could be.

Once they moved there, HYDRA could make its stand again. The world had changed and changed again, and it was due for another turnover. It would be their time once again.

A/N 2: Obtiaž is Slovak for "nuisance"; I figured Pietro might be inclined to use it. ;) I used an online translator; forgive me if I screwed something up.

Questions? Comments? Let me know!

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!