The alley stank of rust and oil, shadows clinging to the walls. You crouched behind a dumpster, your stolen Hydra gauntlet humming faintly, boosting reflexes and healing but tying you to a past of labs and screams. Three weeks free, and now Sam Wilson had found you.

“Keep hiding, or talk?” Sam’s voice was calm, edged with steel, Redwing’s glow circling above.

You stood, gauntlet pulsing blue. “Not your charity case, Wilson.”

“Not charity. Recruitment. Hydra’s back, and you’re our edge.” Sam’s eyes flicked to the gauntlet.

A Quinjet roared overhead, ramp lowering. Bucky Barnes stepped out, metal arm glinting. “Choose fast, kid.”

You tensed. The Avengers hadn’t saved you from Hydra’s tables years ago. Why trust them now? But Sam’s offer—protection, purpose—was tempting. The catch: Rhodey already called you “Hydra’s scraps.”

An explosion rocked the skyline. Natasha’s voice crackled through Sam’s comm: “Hydra’s hitting a S.H.I.E.L.D. vault. Enhanced signatures.”

Your gut twisted. More like you. Hydra’s army was rising, and you were the Avengers’ best shot.

Bucky’s gaze met yours, knowing. “Ready to fight your demons?”

You smirked, masking fear. “I was born in their lab.”