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thirteen

   "Ah!" My eyes are squeezed shut as my teeth clench down on the mouthpiece they'd put into my mouth. It felt like my nerves were set on fire and I was going to die from the pain, but I knew I wasn't.

   This was the third time I was put into reprogramming within the past day. They would give me around forty-five minutes as a break between each that they claimed was for "the good of my overall state of being", but I knew that was just a fancy way of saying my screams of agony were beginning to hurt their ears.

• • •

   My breathing was still heavy by the time they'd left for a break. Each time they'd leave the room and remove the equipment from my head, I'd try to focus. I started with the more obvious things; my name, my age, who I was, and my friends names were things I would repeat over and over, turning it into a mantra that I prayed I wouldn't forget.

"Raven Jackeline Nix. January 14, 19 . . . 1988? Yeah, 1988. I'm an Avenger. My friends are Natasha, Steve . . . Bruce, Tony, Thor, Loki, then Clint, and Sam, and—and Mariah? No, no. Maria. Don't forget about James and—and the tags."

   Of course, after getting your brain fried three times things get a bit fuzzy and you begin to wonder if this is what getting Alzheimer's disease is like. I hated having to pry around my brain and try to remember what the hell even got me into this situation in the first place.

   My annoyance and muttering was cut short when the door creaked open again to reveal several scientists and Pierce.

   The same procedure as the last three times was done. I got the mouthpiece put in, the cold metal clamps were put onto my face. I felt the familiar nervousness in my chest, my heart rate already speeding up and me already tightening my jaw in anticipation of the pain, but it didn't come yet.

   I watch as the door creaks again, opening to show a man holding a black book with a red lettered V in the center. I froze. No, not that again.

Alexander must've noticed my discomfort, making him laugh lowly. "Don't like that, do you?" The smirk on his face drops as he turns to the man who was carrying the horrid book. "Read it while she's getting reprogrammed, it'll integrate better if you start before we're done."

• • •

"Did she have anything on her that could be traced by a satellite?" Maria asks, looking between Steve and Natasha. "Anything we could track?"

"She had a standard issue 9mm handgun. Most have tracers in them to keep track of agents." Natasha recalls, looking up towards the woman. "If they took her to a HYDRA base, they most likely took it into a storage area for holding. The serial number for it should be in the system under her file."

Maria nodded as she swiped over the tablet screen in her hand, typing in Raven's name and searching under her profile. "Here it is: A51300204. Entering it . . ." She types the number into a search bar on their satellite network. "She's in a facility in Warrenton, Virginia—well, her gun is."

"I'll take what I can get." Steve begins to march out of the building, ready to retrieve the girl, but is stopped by Natasha when she sets a hand on his chest.

"Steve, think about this. We only have a few hours to shut down this whole ordeal before those helicarriers get put in the air and millions of people are killed. I want to get her out of there as much as you do, but we have bigger things to worry about." Her voice is monotonous, trying not to show emotion.

Steve's jaw clenches. "Isn't there someone we can send after her? Any agents we know are clean? What about Barton? Or Tony?"

"They're both across the country right now, Steve. They wouldn't get there any faster than we would." Nat feels her chest tighten. "I'm sorry, but you've gotta make a call."