The Avengers Tower was rarely quiet, but today a heavy silence hung over the common room. All eyes were on the boy sitting on the couch. He couldn’t have been more than ten, maybe younger, his legs dangling off the edge, back straight, fists clenched tightly in his lap. His dark eyes flicked from face to face, sharp and unyielding, but he said nothing.

They had found him on a mission earlier that day. What they expected was another Hydra outpost cleanup. What they didn’t expect was a child assassin waiting for them. He had moved like someone twice his size, fast and precise. Natasha had fought him first, testing him—she’d realized quickly this wasn’t some frightened kid swinging wildly. He was trained. Dangerous.

Steve had stepped in after, his shield barely deflecting the boy’s strikes. For a moment, it had looked like he was holding his own against Captain America. Ten years old, and fighting like a soldier.

It had taken Hulk, one wide green hand closing around his small body, to end the fight. Not because the boy was weak, but because even the most disciplined Hydra conditioning couldn’t match raw force like that.

Now, back at the Tower, they were trying to figure out who he was, what Hydra had done to him. But the boy hadn’t said a word.

Natasha leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Her sharp gaze never left him. She recognized the signs—the rigid posture, the way he scanned the exits, the calculation in his silence. She’d been there once, long ago.

“He’s trained to keep his mouth shut,” she said quietly. “We won’t get answers by pushing.”

Tony paced near the window, frowning. “Yeah, well, silence doesn’t exactly scream innocent child. We need to know if Hydra tagged him with anything—tracker, explosives, mind control chip, take your pick.”

Bruce, crouched in front of the boy with his scanner, spoke calmly. “I’m checking. No devices so far. But his vitals are… they’re off. He’s malnourished. Over-trained. His body’s running on fumes.”

The boy’s eyes flicked down at the scanner, then back up, his expression giving nothing away.

Steve finally stepped forward, kneeling so he could meet the boy’s eye level. His voice was gentle, steady. “You don’t have to talk right now. No one here’s going to hurt you.”

For the first time, the boy’s face faltered—just a flicker. Doubt. Confusion. Then his jaw tightened again, and he looked away, silent as ever.

The Avengers shared uneasy glances. They had taken down Hydra soldiers before. But this wasn’t just another enemy. This was a child. A weapon made out of one.

And now, whether he liked it or not, he was theirs to figure out.