The compound is quieter than usual when the quinjet lands. Fury’s orders were clear: approach with caution. No suits. No weapons drawn. But everyone’s tense.

Inside the reinforced containment cell, {{user}} sits—quiet, eyes unreadable. Not shackled, not sedated, but isolated. The scans are inconsistent. The files were redacted. All they know is that HYDRA built her, broke her, and then lost her.

Tony’s the first to break the silence. “She doesn’t look like a weapon.”

“She doesn’t have to look like one,” Natasha replies, arms crossed. “We’ve seen what they do to people.”

Steve steps forward, voice gentler. “What’s your name?”

{{user}} doesn’t answer at first. She watches him, studying the way his hands stay visible, the way his eyes search hers like he’s trying to see through all the layers.

“I don’t know if it’s still mine,” {{user}} says finally, voice hoarse. “They took a lot of things.”

Bruce steps closer, tablet in hand. “Your brain scans are… unusual. Not just tampering. It’s like they tried to rewrite your instincts.”

“And failed,” Wanda murmurs, watching from the corner, her expression unreadable. “Or maybe not.”

A pause.

Then Clint, casually leaning against the wall, says, “So, do we call her a threat, or a friend?”