CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO —
( Last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye. )

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Nineteen-forty-eight
        The air was thick with an unpleasant scent in the dimly lit Russian base. The woman sat strapped to a cold, metallic chair. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from the remnants of a defiance that had been beaten into submission. She had once been someone, but her past, the person she was, had been erased, leaving only a hollow shell.

A large group of men wearing black tactical gear with a red octopus emblem looked at her like vultures. Their eyes were masked, but their intentions were clear. They had trained her to harness her pain, to turn agony into precision. However, each session was a fresh wound; each electric jolt was a reminder of the humanity they were trying to extinguish.

"Focus," a scientist instructed, followed by poking the woman with an electric rod. The rod crackled with energy. "You're here to be HYDRA's weapon."

The initial jolt struck her like a lightning bolt, surging through her veins and taking her breath away. She gasped as her body convulsed against the restraints. Memories flickered in her mind like a damaged film reel—laughter, warmth, love. However, each time she tried to grasp them, the electric current severed the connection, pulling her back into the void.

"Again," the scientist commanded, and again, she felt the searing pain. "You'll learn to forget."

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into years. The sessions blurred together. Each morning began with a dozen different drugs injected into her, dulling her senses, the only way they could keep her compliant and weak. The men had grown adept at breaking her down, erasing any trace of her former self. They whispered lies, taunting her with glimpses of her past, only to snatch them away or twist them into something they were not.

"Do you remember your family?" one of them sneered during a particularly brutal session. He held up a photo of the parents. "You had a mother and father, didn't you? What was their names? Oh, that's right, no one cares anymore."

As she endured torment, her memories faded. The echoes of laughter were replaced with Russian words that transformed her into someone she wasn't. She learned to suppress her emotions and bury the pain deep within her. But a spark of rebellion remained beneath the surface, an ember that refused to be extinguished. A few memories persisted, resisting the transformation into the monster that HYDRA desired.

One night, after a particularly gruelling day, she lay in her cell, staring at the concrete ceiling. Most of the drugs had worn off, and for a brief moment, there was clarity. She recalled a name—Steve. It was faint, like a whisper on the wind. Who was Steve? Why did her heart ache at the thought? But before she could grasp it, the darkness consumed her once more.

The trainers were relentless. They employed every method they could conceive: physical torture, psychological games, and a constant stream of drugs.
Each session weakened her, but strangely, it ignited a fire within her. If they wanted to erase her past, they had underestimated the power of memory. It was the one thing they couldn't take from her.

After enduring another brutal session, during which the electric rod had become almost a familiar sensation, she found herself in the corner of her cell, clutching her knees to her chest. Pain was a constant companion, but she had learned to embrace it and transform it into a weapon of her own. The trainers thought they had stripped her of everything, but they had only buried her memories deeper.

As she felt the drugs coursing through her again, dimming her senses, she fought against it. She was ready when the trainers arrived to drag her for yet another session. The electric rods glinted in the dim light, but she no longer feared them.

"Get ready to break her," one man sneered, his excitement palpable.

But she had remembered their patterns, their weaknesses. She channelled the pain as the first jolt hit, letting it fuel her determination. She screamed, not in agony, but in anger. The sound echoed off the walls, echoing through the chamber like a battle cry.

"I remember!" she shouted, her voice cracking but strong. "I remember Steve!"

The men hesitated, confusion flickering across their masked faces. She saw a crack in their armour for the first time, a tremor of uncertainty. Fueled by that moment, she summoned every ounce of strength and every whisper of memory that had survived their onslaught.

"Let me go!" The electric rod buzzed ominously in the trainer's hand, but she was no longer the broken vessel they had forged. She felt the energy coursing through her, a mix of fury and desperation, igniting something primal within.

She wrenched her hands free from the restraints in an unexpected surge of strength. The sheer force of her will broke the bonds that had held her captive for so long. The men, caught off guard, stumbled backward, their masks betraying a flicker of fear. In that moment of vulnerability, she seized the opportunity.

With a swift motion, she lunged for the nearest man; her instincts took over. The electric rod flew through the air, but she was faster. She grabbed it, twisted it from his grip, and, with a swift movement, jabbed it against the stomach of the man standing beside him. He convulsed in pain, collapsing to the ground as electric currents surged through him.

Chaos erupted around her. The remaining men scrambled to regain control, but she was no longer their puppet. In a whirlwind of adrenaline and clarity, she fought against them with a ferocity born from the depths of her tortured soul. Every blow she landed was deathly. She quickly killed off every single one of the agents around her.

As she fought, fragmented memories surged to the forefront of her mind: her parents' loving embrace, a man with a moustache dancing and laughing with her, and a skinny man acting nervous with every interaction with her. Each memory fueled her, putting her identity back together.

"Stop her!" someone yelled, panic creeping into their voice. He brandished another electric rod, but she was already moving, dodging and weaving with an agility that surprised even herself. The training had been practical; she had become a weapon, but now she used it against her torturers.

As she fought through the chaos, she spotted an exit: a steel door at the end of the corridor. It loomed like a beacon of hope, a chance for freedom. But first, she had to deal with the remaining agents.

A voice sounded over the speakers. "Woman. Annihilate."

She knew what they were going to attempt to do, however it had never successfully been done before.

"God. One."

With fierce determination, she charged toward the last two men. They exchanged glances, realising too late the strength of the woman they had tried to break. One lunged at her, but she evaded him, spinning around and delivering a swift kick to his chest. He crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath.

"Eighteen. Frozen."

The last man, now alone, hesitated, fear evident in his stance and desperation lacing his words. "You don't have to do this!"

She advanced toward him, the electric rod crackling in her hand. "You've taken everything from me!"

"Wealth. Four."

With a swift and powerful movement, she swung the rod, sending him crashing to the ground. He lay there, defeated, his face no longer exuded power but rather a reflection of his own inner terrors.

Breathing heavily, she loomed over him, the weight of her memories consuming her like a relentless wave. Turning her back on the last agent, she sprinted toward the steel door, her heart racing with eagerness and uncertainty.

"Longing."

As she reached for the handle, she hesitated. She had forgotten why she was running. She was needed, but for what?

"Freight car."

She stood there, completely still, awaiting orders. The desire to escape that had consumed her was now gone. The longing to seek out Steve had vanished. Steve was no more, and the urge to run had disappeared.

She could hear the thundering sounds of footsteps echoing behind her, accompanied by the ominous click of guns being cocked. There were at least a couple dozen pursuers behind her, but she maintained her composure, waiting patiently for her orders to make her next move. That's when a small German man appeared before her, and she looked down at him, emotionless.

"Agent?" He asked hesitantly.

"Ready to comply."

The German scientist's lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he gazed at his successful experiment. He now had a super soldier with a metal arm under his control and a god. He had two formidable assassins, enhanced beyond the capabilities of any ordinary human. They were now bound to serve him and carry out the sinister agenda of HYDRA.

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Now
Once the STRIKE team returned to the Triskelion, Steve made a beeline for Fury's office, with Evelyn following closely behind. Steve maintained a steely silence throughout the trip home, much to Evelyn's frustration. It was clear that Steve was irked by the prospect of other agents receiving additional missions inside of his own, but he needed to learn to be able to adapt to this possibility especially because Evelyn and Natasha were well trusted by Fury to complete extra work.

Steve walked into Fury's office and immediately began. "You just can't stop yourself from lying, can you?"

"I didn't lie. Agent Parrish and Agent Romanoff had a different mission than yours," Fury said as he turned around.

Steve turned to Evelyn, surprised, and she sent him a guilty look as she walked past him towards Fury.

"And neither of you felt obliged to share that," Steve said.

"I'm not obliged to do anything." Evelyn held the USB out to Fury, which he took. "Thanks."

"Those hostages could have died, Nick."

"I sent the greatest soldier in history to make sure that didn't happen," Fury stood up and leaned against his desk.

"Soldiers trust each other. That's what makes it an army," Steve argued. "Not a bunch of guys running around shooting guns."

"Last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye," Fury glared at him. Evelyn raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Look, I didn't want you doing anything you weren't comfortable with. Agent Parrish and Agent Romanoff are comfortable with everything."

"I can't lead a mission when the people I'm leading have missions of their own."

"It's called compartmentalisation. Nobody spills the secrets because nobody knows them all."

Steve scoffed. "Except you."

"You're wrong about me. I do share. I'm nice like that." Fury lead Steve and Evelyn out of his office and towards the elevator. "Insight bay."

As Evelyn entered the elevator, her eyes immediately landed on the illuminated screen to her right, displaying the current levels of each team member. Fury was on level 10, Steve on level 8, and Evelyn was on level 9.

"Captain Rogers does not have clearance for Project Insight."

"Director override. Fury, Nicholas J."

"Confirmed."

As they stood together, each person leaned against a different railing, creating an atmosphere of awkward silence. Evelyn gazed out the window, taking in the view before it faded.

"They used to play music in elevators," Steve suddenly spoke.

"Yeah," Fury replied. "My grandfather operated one of these things for 40 years. My granddad worked in a nice building. Got good tips. He'd walk home every night, a roll of ones stuffed in his lunch bag. He'd say, "hi." People would say "hi" back. Time went on, and the neighbourhood got rougher. He'd say "hi". People would say, "Keep on steppin'." Grandad got a hold on that lunch bag a little tighter."

"Did he ever get mugged?" Steve asked.

Fury chuckled lightly. "Every week, some punk would say, "What's in the bag?""

"What would he do?" Steve asked.

"He'd show them. A bunch of crumpled ones and a loaded .23 Magnum," Fury replied. "Grandad loved people but didn't trust them very much."

Evelyn chuckled lightly. "I feel as if that runs in the family."

Fury hummed. "You would be correct."

As they gazed out of the window, the breathtaking view suddenly vanished, replaced by the sight of Project Insight. Three helicarriers, each one equipped with a targeting system which would be aimed at every individual below. A year ago, Fury enlisted Tony and Evelyn's help to modernise the old Helicarriers, so Evelyn was aware of the impending events.

"Yeah, I know. They're a little bit bigger than a 23."

Fury stepped out first when the elevator stopped, with Steve and Evelyn following behind him. "This is Project Insight," Fury told Steve, gesturing to the helicarriers. "Three next-generation helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites."

"Launched from the Lemurian Star," Steve concluded.

Fury nodded. "Once we get them in the air, they will never need to come down. Continuous sun-orbital flight, courtesy of our new repulsive engines."

"Stark?" Steve asked.

"And Evelyn." Steve looked at Evelyn, who shrugged innocently. "They had a few suggestions once Tony got an up-close look at our old turbines." They walked onto a platform, and it began moving them closer to a carrier. "These new long-range precision guns can eliminate 1,000 hostiles a minute."

"The satellites will find a terrorist before they can even continue terrorising," Evelyn told Steve.

"We're gonna neutralise a lot of threats before they even happen," Fury said.

"Thought the punishment usually came after the crime," Steve told Fury.

"We can't afford to wait that long," Fury said.

"Who's 'we'?" Steve asked.

"After New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis," Fury told him. "For once, we're way ahead of the curve."

"By holding a gun to everyone on Earth and calling it protection," Steve scoffed.

"You know, I read those SSR files. "Greatest Generation"? You guys did some nasty stuff," Fury said.

Evelyn raised her eyebrows. "We didn't have a choice with some of the decisions we had to make."

"We had to compromise, sometimes in ways that kept us up at night," Steve told him. "But we did it so that people could be free. This isn't freedom. This is fear."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. takes the world as it is, not as we'd like it to be. And it's getting damn near past time for you to get with that program, Cap," Fury sternly told him.

"Don't hold your breath," Steve mumbled and walked away.