#i love my Slightly Unethical Scientist Lady

[semisentient-entity]

Who doesn't like a little bit of mad science?

I was making a sketchdump that got a little out of hand and this is my favorite part. I want to give her a story, but for now she's just an oc I rotate in my head.

@abluehappyface @possibly-eli @the-cinnamon-snail @space-frog-boy

[mevekagvain]

Chapter 304 - He's pretty. This + the times he tucks his hair behind his ear 🥺

- i can be your angle, or yuor devil

- Nobles are so morally depraved that even the nicer ones like Karias threaten to kill ppl without blinking an eye. Calm down bro.

- No but why do Lunark, Maduke, and Kentas all have the same hair colour basically? Like okay they're family now <3 Is it actually weird? No but I'm not european descended and grew up in asia so I see blonds irl and go 'huh so ppl really are naturally born like that :/ ' To me 95% of the blond ppl irl all look like they're related so its the same for these three.

- Regis and Rael immediately arguing when they're found so 9th has to channel Roctis' dad energy to disappoint them both,,,

- They're finally starting to grow slightly fond of each other and then 9th stabs Regis and then Rael after Ignes incapacitates him... Mood. Goals.

- I think school teachers would love to be able to do this

Chapter 305 - So why does Lunark bring Kentas along again? Like she wasn't told to. Was it so if she's killed or detained he can return to report it? Or did she just go 'cousin bonding time at the murder island <3'

- Idk Kentas, the smooth talk of humans can be pretty hot coming from the ladies. I for one would love to be smooth talked by Lunark so she can go ahead and learn all she wants.

- Seira, Regis and Rael are gonna need therapy for being experimented on. Not that it'll happen but they need it. And the way that Ignes and 9th just refer to them as samples... love the dehumanisation. Very accurate to how it'd be.

- Rajak and Kentas encountering each other is so funny like if it was me I'd just awkwardly say hi and try to converse about the weather or whether he also got lost on his way to the toilet and complain about how in the past Roctis and 9th are stuck to still do outdoor latrines and I think I'd be successful in fooling whoever I was talking to, be it Kentas or Rajak.

- As much as Roctis loves Ignes, he must really hate her too tbh. Like because of her he betrayed the man he admired since we know unlike the other traitors he had no problem with Lukedonia or Raizel. Because of her he's involved in the Union and doing things that go against his morals. Because of her not listening to him the Union causes trouble for him amd Raizel has arrived. Like ofc it's his own fault for doing the terrible shit but.. He definitely oscillates wildly between hating and blaming her and hating and blaming himself and both for everything. Cos he very obviously is not enjoying anything aside from his daughter being alive. Like he def loves her, I just think he also probably hates her at points even if he'd never express it.

- I want to use Frankenstein as an experiment too but not the way the noblesse characters do it. My experiments would be releasing him in a group of nobles who've never met him and are completely unaware of him and who aren't bad ppl to see how things go and write down notes while saying hmm i see. This would be in the past when he first arrived in Lukedonia so my hypothesis is that he'd piss off the first few groups but would gradually realise my experiment and become more cordial and be nice to them. Basically my experiments are social experiments instead of straight up human experimentation. Are they ethical? Idk probably not but I think I can get a pass compared to what everyone else in noblesse does.

Chapter 306 - Flexing muscles to destroy shirts... One of my least favourite male pastimes.

- Actually neither of you are the greatest scientists on the planet because you both are unethical freaks who do this shit instead of like, solving cancer or all the other diseases out there. Aris and Ignes get a pass because theyre gaslighting gatekeeping girlbossing in a manipulate mansplain manslaughter world but the fuck are you two and Crombel up to?

- Raizel going :/ at Frankenstein laughing maniacally is so funny because he's obviously unapproving. Which is funny because ur Hulda and his brother would do that around him in person with no qualms <3 Have you considered you adopted Frankenstein because you were reminded of ur crazy family? Though tbf in their cases they probably were laughing at like, beating someone in Uno and not murder but I think the two situations are similar enough.

Chapter 307 - If the most terrible human in history was named Frankenstein I'd ask for a refund tbh. Like really? Frankenstein? Couldn't just be like, James the fourth or something? Idk I'd just like to be reborn into a world without extremely unethical human experimentation on the forefront of science.

- I think the real miracle is that Raizel somehow made his way to the labs where the three kidnapped nobles were with no difficulty. Like yeah sure he could feel their auras but that's not gonna help him get through secure doors. Sure he probs just broke em yeah but what about the hallways? He's not the type to break through walls.

- I know some ppl think Raizel was cruel in the way he treated Ignes but I think making her eyes bleed is a fair exchange and punishment for someone experimenting on ppl lol. The only reason I wouldn't advocate for torture or capital punishment is because governments are always imprisoning innocents and also because they'd make it the punishment for petty theft instead of rape and shit. In a utopian world where the only ppl who'd receive such punishment are the worst of the worst which isn't ever gonna be possible? I wouldn't be against it. So like yeah ideologically his actions are against what I think but since it's fictional? Idc. Aside from like the indignation at hurting a hot lady lol.

- Dad's here to save the day. Run off to play Ignes.

- No seriously Raizel you 100% have the right to condemn them for trying to murder you 😭 Like king if it was me I'd just burst into tears if they asked if I had anything to say and cry about how it's unfair for them to be mad at me when they're the ones who tried to fucking kill me. Which genuinely makes me more well adjusted than you Raizel because no you should not be going "yeah its fine because my emotions aren't important since i have to place my duties first <3". Like I'd prioritise my duties too, I'd just do it while crying and throwing a tantrum.

- You can tell Roctis doesn't believe the shit he's saying to try and justify himself either. But like Raizel's not giving good counterarguments either,,, Just saying noblesse oblige doesn't explain shit. You gotta explain the concept thoroughly, especially the parts about why since that's what's being asked. Or just talk about why murders bad no matter what lmao.

- Could you not take ur shirt off Roctis :/ Also why did your skin get darker 😬 And why does getting modifications mean you don't have the body of a noble anymore? Makes no sense. Raizel doesn't question it because he knows nothing but I'm very much questioning it.

- Damn he got weaker after your murder attempt on him that made him disappear for 820 years? Who woulda thunk it? What a shocking development.

Chapter 309 - Frankenstein started out trying to prevent leprosy but now he just makes ramyeon for Raizel...It's one heck of a downgrade. People who go 'humanity inherently bad' annoy me. You used to be cool Frankenstein. Like you can see that he's still kinda nice because even though the school he created was only for Raizel, he still did make it, and in how he interacts with the household when they're injured, but he's also all emo and edgy which isn't great.

- Lunark going "wow humans are horrible" at hearing how Dark Spear was created as if wws weren't out there enslaving humans and treating them like shit from the beginning and probably also helping the Union create Dark Spear lol. Like just as a rule of thumb, if you think that your race or species is superior while all others are inferior you are also a bad person.

- Then she's lying out of her ass when Frankenstein asks why she was just spectating the entire time because she's all 'uh what do i do what do i say? Ah i know! Humans love love! I'll just say i think hes cute! Perfect coverup!' Because we know from her thoughts that that was like 0% of the reason sjsjjsks.

- What did leaves ever do to you bro?

Chapter 310 - A caetus/leviathan from Lantheart! Also Raizel can do a phoenix because wings or whatever. Good for him for also getting a cool move aside from the usual blood bending.

- Yeah Roctis, go feel guilty about getting your entire clan banished because of protecting Ignes.

Chapter 311 - Soul weapons are so weird because just like Seira, Ignes didn't feel it coming to her. But we know from Regis' case that one can feel it arriving. Is Regasus just like, better or something? Just announces its arrival so the new wielder is aware? Gonna ignore the weirdass soul weapon system and say she was just momentarily stunned by the debris because I feel as if nobles should be capable of noticing something entering their fucking soul.

- Hi Muzaka

[jfktalkstomeasacoin]

JFK’s Doom Patrol Rewatch: Jane/Hair/Frances Patrol

So i decided i would group these three together because of their connection. Tl;dr, Frances patrol is the best, with Jane being a good second.

Starting with Jane patrol, i loved the original comic it was based from (Doom Patrol Vol. 2 #30) and i thought it was handled really well here. I liked Cliff appearing human and being able to touch, i liked the interpersonal work of the underground, and i like how cliff didn’t tell about what happened as it wasn't his story to tell. I’m not diving into the climax because i dont wanna put up trigger warnings, but i think it was almost as good as it was in the comics.

Hair patrol, while the weakest, is still a good story. I like how we learn more of who Niles is when backed up against the wall, i like the beard hunter, and i like Vic and Rita. Timothy Dalton is great as the chief, and he is really given the chance to act in this episode. Most of his work has just sitting and emoting or throwing up, so seeing him have to act physically is a treat. And as a fuzzy lady, i love seeing him attracted to Slava rather than be horrified. wheres my unethical scientist?

Beard Hunter in the comics would not work in the show, and i love how they change him to suit the medium. There might be a few light allusions to fat jokes, but i might be overthinking on that. I do love the image of this schluby guy running around to eat beard hair, even if i dont love the image of him eating said beard hair (Really? Right in front of my Salad?). The fact that he has such strength after his...little snack...is such a kick in the teeth.

This might be controversial, but i think Vic and Rita would be a good ship. idkw but the two have this vibe of slightly dysfunctional couple. don't get me wrong, i like Ronnie, but i think the writers should visit Vita sometime.

Frances patrol is better than Puppet or Therapy. Almost everyone has something really good going on. Larry reunites with John. Cliff sees his daughter again. Cyborg has some computer stuff. Dianne has that ‘fit. this episode is amazing. KEEG FINALLY COMMUNICATES WITH LARRY AAAAAAAAAAAAA!

the use of moon river is worth a separate post of its on. Paint me blue and call me Otis, it is one of the best needle drops of the series and this series has great needle drops.

the only real problems i have are with Rita not having as much to do this episode except being sassy, and the search for flex not having as much screen time. all in all, very solid episode though. this whole trilogy has something for everyone.

[avengershumanresources]

Dust to Dust (7)

Summary: Where did Hydra come from? An idea? A twisted dream? For an organization that spans centuries, it kept relatively quiet until contemporary times.The Super Soldier serum wasn’t dreamt up over night, but was the product of numerous experiments both unethical and violent over the course of the century. It was going to be the end of all conflicts between good and evil. Scientists died trying to determine the next level of the serum, only for it to be stolen by enemies. Back and forth until one side had the advantage.

Mabel Foster was everything the ideal woman should be in 1914. She was well brought-up, wealthy, educated and the heiress to a large fortune. When her father died in a much publicized U-boat attack by the Germans, Mabel made a decision that changed the course of history by enlisting in the French Army during WWI.

After an ambush gone bad, Mabel found herself captured by an early group of Hydra.100 years later she’s discovered in a desolate Hydra base and is taken by the Avengers for safe-keeping and questioning. Little do they realize that all of their destinies and pasts are directly connected through the nest that Hydra weaved.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC (Original Female Character)

Rating/Warnings: Mature- Graphic violence, torture, PTSD, smut

(Masterlist found HERE)

"You wasted all that sweetness to run and hide I wonder why I remind you of the days you poured your heart into But you never tried I've fallen from grace Took a blow to my face I've loved and I've lost."

-Ellie Goulding (Explosions)

Paris, France - October 30th, 1914

“Pierre warned me that I might be receiving a visitor soon,” Marie Garnier grabbed one of Mabel’s bags and hefted it over her shoulder.  “I didn’t imagine in a million lifetimes that it’d be you."

Marie Garnier had been a childhood friend to Mabel while Pierre worked under Mabel’s father in New York.  The younger sister of Mabel’s fiancé eventually returned to Paris to study fashion, though Mabel tried to keep contact, life circumstances got in the way.  It’d been quite some time since the pair had gotten in contact

“It’s wonderful to see you too,” Mabel greeted, tucking a stray blonde hair behind her ear.  The French woman rolled her eyes before pulling the heiress into a firm hug.

“So what brings you to this terrible continent?  I would have thought you’d be begging me to hide in your gilded tower with you,” Marie led the way from the train platform toward a small neighborhood up the road.  Newspapers shouted the latest disasters with bold print and Parisians sat in cafes, smoking and murmuring to one another about the most recent fatality.

“Change in scenery,” Mabel replied cryptically, unsure of the details that Pierre may have passed along ahead of her.  Marie hummed in acknowledgement and continued forward

“Packed a little light for a long visit,” she commented, lifting the bag slightly.  She gestured toward a nearby apartment door and set the bag down, rummaging in her pockets for a key.  “Unless you aren’t planning on staying long.

Mabel remained silent while crossing the doorway into the small apartment.  It had a certain charm to it; Marie had scattered various patterns and fabrics around the room; a half dressed mannequin was situated in the center of her kitchen.

“Make yourself at home,” Marie set Mabel’s bag on the dining room table and began to rapidly tidy up the main living areas.  “I’ve been working on a project; I apologize for the mess.”

“You’re completely fine,” Mabel assured her friend, taking in the decorations and the photographs that lined the small window in Marie’s kitchen.  “I don’t even have that one.”

She pointed to a picture of her and Pierre from last Christmas, the pair of them straining a smile into the camera.  Her mother had been insistent that it be the photograph accompanying their engagement announcement in the Times.

“Pierre sent it a while back,” Marie commented offhand.  “Something about an engagement.  I didn’t bother paying attention to the rest.  Lord knows you wouldn’t willingly marry him.  Who’d want a lifetime doomed with him?”

“You jest,” Mabel began to pull off her traveling gloves and tucked them next to another small bag she’d brought for her journey.  “He’s been very kind and helpful, helping me through everything so far.”

“I did hear about your father’s death, my sincerest condolences,” Marie’s attention was transfixed on a sheer fabric that she only lowered to look at Mabel an instant.  “I’m afraid you’ve picked a bad time to come to the French countryside and grieve.”

“I’d beg to differ,” Mabel casually muttered, lifting one of Marie’s sketches toward the sunlight and setting it down on a nearby counter gently.  “In fact, perhaps that is the exact reason why I’m here.”

Marie dropped her project and stared at the woman like she was speaking another language.

“Do you plan on winning the war as vengeance for your father?” there was a mixture of humor and disbelief in the Parisian’s tone.  “Perhaps I could recommend a good hospital or sanatorium for you to stay in.  Get your head clear.”

Mabel fidgeted with the paperwork Pierre had given her that she’d stashed in the lining of her dress for safe keeping.

“Pierre said it was a terrible idea as well,” she continued, taking a seat in a nearby armchair.  “But he assured me you would be able to help with certain logistics."

That certainly caught Marie’s attention.  She moved a few things aside and sat down next to her old friend.

“Who knows you are here?” she questioned, her brows knitted in concentration.  Mabel realized that her companion was beginning to piece together her unorthodox visit’s meaning.

“Pierre,” Mabel replied simply.  “And now you.”

“Your mother?”

“She is no mother to me,” Mabel shot back, her tone coming out like ice.

“Oh Mabel,” the French woman soothed.  “I know losing your father is difficult… Pierre and I had nearly lost our minds when mother and father were lost but-,”

“It’s not just that,” Mabel interrupted, her face reddening at the outburst.  “There’s more to it.  I don’t just want to do this.  I have to.  The world is crumbling and I can’t sit back watching it from my- what did you call it? - Gilded tower.”

“This is war,” Marie pressed, trying to reason with the American woman.  Her knuckles were white from holding the edge of her seat.  “This isn’t one of your novels or plays.  People are dying."

“What right do I have to sit quietly by while the world moves around us?” Mabel shot back with a frown.

“This isn’t even your country’s fight,” Marie reminded her, but Mabel shook her head.

“It became my fight when they took my father,” Mabel’s voice lowered.  He’d been an innocent bystander.  Sam had been an innocent bystander.  “Who will stand up to the victims of these cruel acts against humanity?”

“You’re not going to save everyone,” Marie was almost hysterical, a laugh slipping past her incredulous demeanor.  “There are no heroes here.  Just dead men and women waiting for the inevitable.”

“You sound so sure,” Mabel shook her head and stood up from her chair, heading toward the kitchen.  “I can stay in a hotel if you’d like.  The decision was made long before I boarded the boat here.”

Marie stared down the blonde woman and sighed, the noise dragging out while she mentally ran through her choices.

“Don’t be silly, you will be staying with me,” she stood up and headed toward a small room in the back of the apartment.  “We’ll have to share a bed, though I can assure you it’ll be more comfortable than the ground you seem to be so set on living on.”

“I don’t have any other choice,” Mabel murmured softly, when Marie shot a look of pain to her friend.

“I think you do,” Marie pointed out while she grabbed an armful of extra blankets.  “I just think you’re being blind due to stubbornness.”

“That seems a little risqué for 1917,” Bucky commented while Mabel was reading a section of A Farewell to Arms out loud.  The particular passage he was referring to described an intimate encounter between the two protagonists during WWI in an Italian hospital.  

“What do you mean?”  Mabel set the book in her lap and glanced up at her companion.  “They're human.  Regardless of the generation.  This sort of thing isn't new.”

Mabel had heard all kinds of stories of men paying for lovers throughout small French villages, often the women had been left behind or widowed by the war.  Or someone powerful had hoped to make a few extra dollars by exploiting youth.

Bucky let out a grunt and repositioned himself in his chair.  

“Did you not take lovers?” Mabel inquired with a small smile.  “I would find that hard to believe with the stories Steve tells of your youth."

“That's not a proper conversation to have with a lady,” he pointed out.  His voice cracked at the statement and he frowned at the floor.  

“I think you forget I spent four years with a group of very passionate and frustrated men,” she simply replied before opening the book to a random page.  “I have a feeling this story will have an unhappy ending.”  

Bucky leaned forward and frowned.  

“Why do you say that?  I think he and Catherine will be able to live happily after the war,” he shook his head.  “They're meant to be."

“Then they'll get to live through another war,” Mabel sighed.  “And watch their children be pulled away by it.  They are the same age as your own parents at this time.  Remember that.

Bucky fell silent before he shook his head and grabbed the novel out of her hands.  

“My parents had a happy ending.  They watched my sister get married and lived long, happy lives together.”

Mabel had to swallow down the envy that rose in her chest.  It was brief.  A feeling of loss that she'd tried for decades to push away.  

“Besides, they wouldn't have known the future,” he held the book up.  “They just know they love each other.”

“What a simple life,” Mabel merely commented before taking the book back gently and flipping through the pages aimlessly. “It must be nice to be able to find love so strong you can hide from the monsters of the world.”

“You sound like me,” he laughed, standing from his seat and snatching the novel out of her grasp.  He held it above her head teasingly.  “Which means I'm being the positive one and that means we need to find something else to do before doom and gloom ruin us.”  

“Perhaps I enjoy being bitter,” Mabel tried, jumping at the book with a small hop before giving up.  Bucky was much taller than her, a fact he loved to tease her about on a nearly daily basis.  

“I don't believe that,” he replied, setting the book back on a nearby shelf and ushering the blonde woman out of their little hideaway.

They stepped into the windowed hallway and paused at the looming landscape outside.  

December had finally rolled around and the weather seemed to have shifted overnight.  

A heavy snow had covered the trees and grounds surrounding the compound, giving the area an almost magical sense of wonder.  

“When do you return to the city?” Mabel inquired quietly.  Tony and the others had tried to be sly about it, but she knew the compound was only used during the warmer months.   The Tower in the center of Manhattan was the Avengers primary base and Stark had been preparing for their return for a few weeks now.  

“Next Monday,” Bucky replied, his eyes still locked on the white blanket in front of them.  

No one had the heart to tell Mabel that she'd be stuck at the compound indefinitely- or at least until her head was a little more under control.  

Mabel nodded at the information and remained quiet.  She wasn't sure how she felt about him leaving.  Certainly the pair had grown a certain fondness between them that she could only chalk up to a friendship.  Yet, an unspoken voice in the back of her head ached at the emptiness that building would yield without her metal armed companion.  

He was, after all, the only constant she'd had for the last few weeks.  

“I can write,” he offered jokingly.  “Or we can video call.  Talk about how things are going with Sam and Bruce.”  

“Or both,” Mabel offered with a shy look in his direction.  It was seldom that she wanted to be selfish, but perhaps letter writing was the one thing from the past she so desperately missed.  She hated how impersonal communication was in this time.  She missed the tangible proof of someone's thoughts in her hands.  

“Of course you want to write letters,” Bucky groaned dramatically.  “Ya know, that was the worst part of the war in my day.  I never know what to say.”

“You just put down your thoughts.  Talk about what you've seen.  What you've done.  Tell me about the future.”

“We’re already in the future,” he chided and Mabel shrugged.  

“It's not tomorrow yet, is it?” she replied with a small smirk.  “Even ten minutes from now isn't promised to anyone.”

“But writing is so boring,” he complained with a huff.  The duo continued down the quiet corridor, undisturbed by anyone else in the compound.  

“I'll be staring at the same four walls, I will take any adventure I can live vicariously through you with,” Mabel admitted quietly.  

“I'm beginning to think you're right.  You must truly love bitterness and sorrow.” 

“I strive to be transparent, Mr. Barnes,” she turned just in time to watch him open his mouth to correct her.  Instead he fell silent.  “When do you think you'll be back?

“Tony mentioned something about getting everyone together for Christmas.  Though I'm not sure where,” he paused in thought.  “Maybe if we're lucky…”

“Even if I can handle life outside of this place, I'm not ready for New York,” Mabel's tone wavered and she clutched at her arm.  “It makes me feel a little childish, admittedly.  At least here everything is a gradual learning curve.”

“You'll have to dive in eventually.  There's only so much a book can explain,” Bucky reasoned and the blonde let out a drawn out sigh.  

“My world was stopped at the end of a precipice that dove into where society is today,” she frowned and shook her head slightly.  “It's as foreign as another planet to me.”

“It'll be okay.  We're all here to make sure you get there,” Steve's voice echoed toward the pair and soon enough the soldier joined the duo.  “I've been working with Tony and things aren't too different.  The foundation is still there- just a little more sparkle to it.”

“Perhaps I should just return to Europe?  They age slower, do they not?  I'm sure the Eiffel tower looks the same.  I'd fit right in.”

“I'm seriously going to shove you in the snow,” Bucky groaned running a hair through his hair and snorting.  “You're worse than this melodramatic fool.”  He shoved a thumb in Steve's direction.  The American hero feigned innocence until Bucky started ahead of the two blondes with a huff.  

“He's just a product of the millennium, too good for nostalgia,” Steve teased under his breath before gesturing for Mabel to go ahead of him.  They went after their friend and ended up in the main living area where a handful of Avengers were lying about.  

“Anyone up for a shooting session?” Clint suggested once Bucky and the others joined the group.  His offer was met with a few shrugs and grunts, though Bucky was more than enthusiastic.  

“Yes.  Please.  Get me away from these saps,” he looked around for any other takers.  “Ah come on.  It's no fun with just Clint and I.”  

“Only if I can spar the loser,” Nat offered and when an agreement was made, the trio disappeared toward the elevators.  Sam and Bruce parted after a brief conversation and the flying Avenger stood at Mabel’s side.

“And I believe we have an appointment,” Sam nodded to her.  She gave an affirming smile in his direction and with a small wave to Steve, they headed toward their designated therapy area.  

Sam had opened up slightly once it became clear what they were working with.  He offered counseling to her, as he did to all the members of the team, though she was the only one who took him up on it regularly.

The therapy area was relatively secluded in the event of another meltdown.   An idea strongly supported by the majority of the team.   Steve later explained that everyone was prone to outbursts from time to time and though she was the primary reason behind its installation, it truly benefitted everyone.  

“Any more nightmares?” Sam asked before they settled into the sofas.  

“Yes,” Mabel replied.  She didn't even know what a full night of sleep felt like.  She probably hadn't had a dream since 1913.  

“What did you see?” He asked, digging around for his tablet that he stored near the sofas.  

“A kid about 17 getting shelled,” she replied dryly.  “And then just pieces of him.  A leg here, an arm there.”  Those had been the lucky parts.  Everything else had turned into a brownish, red mush of organs and mud that splattered around the trench and soldiers alike.  

“Real or fake?” Sam followed up, and Mabel paused in thought.  This was a new game that Tony suggests after talking with Wanda about what he been found in her head.  They needed to dig through what Hydra had planted and what was simply a cruel memory from the war.

“-Felt real,” she confessed, picking at her fingers.  “But we were in German uniforms.”

“Did you see anything similar during your time on the front?”  

“Of course I did,” she leaned into the sofa in irritation.  How was that even a question?  Did he not take American history?   He was a military man himself.  Did he not lose companions in violent and unusual ways?  “No one I knew died that way though.  Mustard gas or bullets usually took out the good ones.”

Sam’s eyebrows perked at the mention of the toxic chemical agent.  The trigger word.

“Who’d you lose to the gas?” he asked, leaning forward, his tablet propped up in his lap. His full attention was on Mabel.  They both knew where this was leading without saying a word.

“A lot of people,” she frowned.  She could feel her expression boxing up, her face falling into that emotionless mask.

“A friend maybe?” he pressed, trying to dig the information out of her.  Mabel knew what she was supposed to be saying, but she felt like repeating that moment out loud would be too much to bear.  It’d make it realer than the montage that played in the back of her mind.

“Steve’s father,” she stated, averting her gaze from the man across from her.  “He pushed through to the very end.  He wanted to see his wife and child.  They smoked him out like an animal.  He didn’t even look like a human when he left this world.”

“Do you feel guilty about his death?” Sam asked once Mabel got the information out and tightened her posture in her seat.  “Remorse?  Regret?  These feelings are completely normal when we lose someone.”

“He got gassed because of me.”

There it was.  The biggest weight that Mabel carried inside of her heart.  Every moment following Joseph’s death was tied to the night she and him were supposed to take down a nearby camp.  

“I was supposed to be his second, keeping an eye on the firefight and covering him.  Only him.  But some kid got stabbed near me and I lost focus for a second.  I didn’t even see that the enemy had abandoned their camp until it was too late.  It was a set up.  He was hit with a high concentration and died a few days later.”

“He made his choice,” Sam gently reminded Mabel, but the woman’s expression remained empty.

“He made his choice with the understanding I would provide back-up,” she corrected softly.  “Unfortunately, sometimes people are to blame in things like this.  I’d agreed to give my all and lost concentration.  I didn’t fulfill my end of the deal.”

Sam’s expression softened with every word Mabel spoke, until finally, he voiced his opinion on the subject.

“I lost a man too,” he confessed.  A flicker of pain shot through his body language and Mabel shifted slightly at the subtle change.  “I was back-up and an enemy target shot him right out of the sky.  I was too far away to do anything, and just close enough where I saw the last flickers of life in him.  I was supposed to be on the lookout for any stray militants on the ground.  I miscalculated and he suffered the consequences.”  

“I’m so sorry,” Mabel murmured.  She didn’t know what else to say.  Truly, she was terrible at handling circumstances such as this.

“War is war,” he continued and leaned back into his chair.  “Steve still kicks himself over what happened to Bucky- and the guy literally lives down the hall from him.  Some of them are aching over recent losses, some are finally beginning to heal from scars caused by those they now look up to.  It’s going to keep hurting, but you can’t let the hurt and anger and confusion… you can’t let it take you down.  That’s how they win.”

They being Hydra, she reminded herself silently.  Or they being the ghosts that haunt her nights.

The session continued for only a few moments more, before Sam received an urgent call and had to excuse himself.  Mabel glanced at a nearby clock and realized that they’d only spent half the usual amount of time in their session.

She had a few hours to kill before she was supposed to meet up with Tony and Bruce to try one of the serums that had helped Bucky during his transition.

Where had the others gone?

She mused the question over before remembering that Clint and Bucky were contesting one another in shooting.  From the stories she’d heard, it could be an interesting way to spend the remainder of her afternoon.

Would it be safe?  She wondered aimlessly, walking toward the direction of the training level.  No one was saying code words-  she’d seen plenty of war documentaries… It should be fine.

A greedy voice in the back of her mind was curious if they’d let her have a try at a weapon.

“Clean shot,” Clint complimented the brunette with a short nod.  “But not clean enough.”

“Millimeters,” Bucky complained with a grunt, glancing over at Nat, who was stretching for a sparring match with the shooting contest’s loser.  He threw an arm over his shoulder, beginning to prep for the match against the Russian spy.

“I haven’t lost yet,” Clint replied with a smirk.  “Primarily because I have no intention of fighting her."

“Because you know you’d hate to lose twice,” Natasha shot back, throwing a stray boxing glove in the direction of her partner.

“One hundred percent accurate,” Clint admitted, catching the glove mid-air and setting it to the side.  “Though I wouldn’t mind fighting Mr. Barnes.”

“You just want to get close with me,” Bucky snorted in response, crawling into the ring and stretching his legs.

“You’re onto me, I just love big sweaty meatheads,” the archer laughed.  “Though probably not as much as Miss Foster.”  He said her name with a heavily exaggerated British accent, snickering at his own humor.

“I get the feeling Mae prefers men who are at least mostly made of flesh,” Bucky swung from Natasha’s legs and the redhead dodged the move with irritating grace.  “And probably closer in age.”

“I don’t know; how many centennials do you know?” Natasha smirked, wrapping her legs around Bucky’s waist and pulling him down.  The brunette rolled with the move and turned it against her, rolling her onto her back.

“She and Steve would make cute little blonde babies,” Clint noted casually.

Bucky wasn’t sure why, but the comment tugged at him the wrong way and he threw Natasha a little harder than expected toward the edge of the ring.  He looked at her in horror and quickly helped her back up, but she responded by dropping him to the ground with a foot in his chest.

He laid there a moment, staring up at the ceiling of the training room before a new set of footfalls entered the room.

“I was under the impression he was one of the most feared assassins in the world?” he heard a familiar voice comment to Clint.  The archer snorted in laughter.

She always sounded so polite, despite the sarcasm and rude comments she let slip.  She could probably insult the pope and he wouldn’t even realize it.

“He’s just getting old,” Natasha commented.  “Besides, I think more people are afraid of me."

“I know I certainly am,” Mabel confessed lightly, a small smile sent in the redhead’s direction.  Natasha crawled out of the ring and approached the blonde, sizing the smaller woman up and down.

“You fight pretty well, at least in the brief moments of brainwashing I saw,” she noted and circled Mabel again.  “You wanna give it a shot?”

“No,” Bucky voiced, immediately shooting up from his laying position.  “I think that’s a terrible idea."

But the group continued their discussion, with Clint edging the soldier on, before finally, Mabel relented.

Why did he even bother?  Bucky groaned, rolling off of the ring and approaching the group.

“Do you even know how to throw a punch properly?” he asked exasperated, trying to convince the woman otherwise.  She narrowed her gaze in offense before throwing a perfectly formed punch into his chest.

Bucky would never admit in a million years, but it nearly knocked him off balance.

“I don’t know Mr. Barnes, perhaps I should go back to my needlework,” she shook her head and pushed past him toward the ring where Natasha was now waiting.

“Girl fight!” Clint cheered mockingly, earning a less than polite gesture from Natasha, before the two women began to circle one another.

Bucky watched silently while they continued circling the ring.  They both had a similar approach.  They were the same size roughly, and probably were used to handling much larger opponents.

Mabel’s downfall, however, was that Natasha had a little more experience fighting other women.

The redhead dove first, going for Mabel’s legs, but the blonde leapt up and rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the attack.  She used Nat’s confusion to tackle her from the side, but Natasha brought up an elbow and pushed the blonde off.

“You fight dirty,” Natasha commented, wiping at some dripping sweat.  “I like it.”

The redhead’s eyes were calculating, while Mabel’s hazel gaze was determined to take down the threat.

They collided again, this time Mabel winning the brief match.   It went on like this for a bit longer before Natasha was, once again, determined to be the winner.

“My turn,” Clint announced once Natasha hopped out of the ring.  Mabel didn’t even have a chance to react before the archer was charging toward her.

Their game was a dance of avoidance.  Mabel moved swiftly away from each of Clint’s attacks, trying to throw a blow in whenever she could.  Unfortunately, Clint was significantly more agile than the heiress, and managed a few more hits.

The fight ended with Mabel leaning against the ropes of the fighting ring trying to catch her breath and Clint rolling on the ground laughing about how they needed to get the kid in the field.

“Buck!  Your turn,” Clint rolled toward his friend excitedly.  Bucky shook his head firmly.

“Not today,” he replied, sending a look in Mabel’s direction.  He expected a smile or an acknowledgement of sympathy, but instead the blonde grinned mischievously.

“It’s ok, it wouldn’t be very fair,” she shrugged and started toward the edge of the ring.  “He’s probably too tired.”

Goddamn it, she knew how to get under his skin.  He pulled his shirt off and tossed it at Clint.

“All right grandma, let’s go.” Mabel beamed, cracking her knuckles.

When Clint announced the beginning of the fight, it occurred to Bucky right away that the enhanced woman had been holding back against her non-altered counterparts.

There was significantly more force behind each hit.

He dropped her, she would subsequently bring him down to her level.

She threw elbows and used knees, which normally would have been called on, but Clint wasn’t judging by competition rules.  This was a fight.

Bucky caught her in the side of the mouth, drawing a little blood.  He paused in concern before she merely smirked, wiped it away and went for his torso.

They stumbled to the ground, her pinning him down for just long enough for Clint to call her the winner.

It was close- and if he hadn’t hesitated at seeing her hurt, he would have easily won.

Mabel lingered a moment, her elbows pinning down his chest, smiling in victory at the assassin.

“You can move,” he grunted in irritation, but she dropped more weight down, pressing further into his sternum.

“Make me,” she taunted quietly before he simply flipped her over onto her back.  He could hear her catch her breath before he pinned her shoulders down on the mat.

“You’re a pain sometimes, you know that right?” he muttered before jumping up and crawling out of the ring.

She remained silent, her eyes trailing him on his walk back to Clint.  Natasha soon appeared at her side and helped the blonde back to her feet

Why had he hesitated? Bucky ran through possible explanations all the way back to the shower.

Sure, he’d drawn blood in his sparring partners before.  Shit, he’d probably made Steve bleed more than a hundred times, yet seeing it on Mabel made his mind go haywire.

He turned the water in the training shower as hot as possible, hoping the burning sensation would help clear his mind and give him answers.

France- January 1918

“We’ve located the German scientist; a local family was hiding him in their crawlspace,” Meyer nudged a pale faced woman, and three children forward.  “What should we do with them?”

Mabel looked the family over for a brief moment before shaking her head.  They’d seen better days, though she couldn’t understand their choice in aiding an enemy so cruel and manipulative.

“Treason is punishable by death,” she merely commented.  There wasn’t a single hint of hesitation in her tone.  “They were assisting a mass murderer.”

The mother dropped to her knees and began to beg for the lives of herself and her children; but Mabel turned on the boot of her heel and started back toward the regime waiting ahead.

“Meyer, you have your orders,” she stated with icy finality.  She barely flinched when the gunshots echoed across the snow covered meadow.  Quick and painless.  Hunger probably would have killed most of the children by the end of winter anyway.

Meyer jogged to catch up, his pace lining up with Mabel’s almost identically.

“A little cruel, don’t you think?” he asked quietly.  Mabel stopped in her tracks and looked him over with a narrowed gaze.

“Their interference allowed Hans to go undetected an additional month and a half,” she reminded him.  “That’s a month and a half of loss time- a month and a half of information we could be pulling from him about their grand project.”

Meyer fell silent and shuffled ahead toward the squad.  The men avoided eye contact with Mabel once she approached.  

“We need to get to Amiens by nightfall,” she ordered and the soldiers began to move, dragging along a stumbling Dr. Hans behind their carts.

Joseph would have reasoned that she shown the family mercy, a small voice whispered in the back of her head.  She kept marching along the road, adjusting her rifle strap slightly.

But Joseph is dead and I am not.

PART 8

[avengershumanresources]

Dust to Dust (2)

Summary: Where did Hydra come from? An idea? A twisted dream? For an organization that spans centuries, it kept relatively quiet until contemporary times.The Super Soldier serum wasn’t dreamt up over night, but was the product of numerous experiments both unethical and violent over the course of the century. It was going to be the end of all conflicts between good and evil. Scientists died trying to determine the next level of the serum, only for it to be stolen by enemies. Back and forth until one side had the advantage.

Mabel Foster was everything the ideal woman should be in 1914. She was well brought-up, wealthy, educated and the heiress to a large fortune. When her father died in a much publicized U-boat attack by the Germans, Mabel made a decision that changed the course of history by enlisting in the French Army during WWI.

After an ambush gone bad, Mabel found herself captured by an early group of Hydra.100 years later she’s discovered in a desolate Hydra base and is taken by the Avengers for safe-keeping and questioning. Little do they realize that all of their destinies and pasts are directly connected through the nest that Hydra weaved.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC (Original Female Character)

Rating/Warnings: Mature- Graphic violence, torture, PTSD, smut

(Masterlist found HERE)

“Quand je marche dans la rue, la rue vers le Sacré-Cœur.  Je me souviens des promesses au nom de l'amour.  Je vais t'attendre là. Viendras-tu pour moi?”

“(When I walk in the street, the street to Sacred Heart.  I remember the promises in the name of love.  I'll wait for you there.  Will you wait for me?)”

-The Civil Wars (Sacred Heart)

French Countryside- Location Classified- Summer 1917

Mabel's unit was due to receive their first batch of American soldiers.  Once the States had entered the war, it had caused quite the ruckus throughout the ranks of Mabel's senior officers.  

They had the advantage now, they argued; it was the German’s folly for tempting the Beast and now the Central powers would pay for their actions.  

“Garnier!” The leader of Mabel's unit snapped at the young officer and she jumped to attention at her name.  As the years had passed, she'd almost forgotten her birth name.  She naturally responded to Pierre Garnier on so many occasions she felt that it'd become a part of her on a biological level.  

“The 107th just arrived,” her Captain explained with a long sigh when she jogged up.  She knew that meant more coordinating and late nights for the older man who barely slept as it was.  “I need you to grab a handful of them and report to the mess for assignment.”  He passed off a list of names that Mabel scanned for any semblance of recognition.  

Jonah was just entering the age where he could potentially be drafted.  It ached Mabel's heart to think that he could be shipped out and murdered just a few feet away from his sister.  

The 107th was New York's reserve after all.

With the list in hand, she hurried off toward the front of the camp to report to the American’s senior officer.  When he introduced himself as Captain Sanders, Mabel had to fight the blush that threatened to spill over her cheeks.  

Sanders had been pursuing Mabel for many years as a potential suitor.  He came from old-money and his father was a retired General from the Civil War who'd worked closely with Mabel's family.

Fortunately, the worn leader did not recognize the Manhattan heiress in her current disguise.  

“I need Rogers, Marsh, Williams, McDonald, Asher, and Meyer,” she detailed the list and looked up for the small squad of soldiers.  Sanders repeated the names into the crowd of soldiers and a few bright faced young men moved forward.  

“Here's your boys, I recommend you get to it before someone changes their mind,” Sanders gestured to the group and passed them off to the French soldier.  

“We have orders to report to the mess hall for a special assignment,” she announced.  Her low voice that she tried to use when she spoke English broke slightly and a few of the men, McDonald and Meyer, murmured under their breath about French pansies.  

Mabel elected to ignore the comment and marched forward a few feet ahead of the group.  

“They're a bunch of assholes,” a voice commented from Mabel's side.  “I know the crap you've all seen out here and you are much bigger men than these fools.”

“I appreciate that,” she gave him a curt nod and offered her hand.  “Pierre Garnier.”

“Joseph Rogers,” the blonde gave her a firm handshake and smiled.  “When my wife and I left Ireland, didn't think I'd have a chance to see Europe again.”  

He had a slight Irish accent that Mabel had only noticed after he mentioned his origins.  It was subtle; he’d managed to grasp the New Yorker accent well- not that Mabel was going to admit it.

“Are you in the States now?” She inquired, knowing full well he was from New York based off of the little information she knew of him.  But, Pierrewouldn't have necessarily known that.  

“Brooklyn,” he replied with a shrug.  “Got my wife and our soon to be baby settled before shipping out.”

“Congratulations,” Mabel murmured, a pang of sadness hitting her when she realized he'd probably miss the child's birth during his service.

“Thank you,” he gave a grin. “Sarah is wagering it's a boy but I'm positive it's going to be a little girl.  I was the first and only boy in my family.  Us Rogers’ make girls.”  

“I guess we shall wait and see,” she commented with a reassuring smile.  Joseph seemed so kind compared to the cruel and violent world she'd become accustomed to.  

“What about you?  Family around here?” he questioned the soldier.  Mabel knew he was trying to be friendly, but she was so out of touch with normal social practices that the question came out of nowhere.

“I have a fiancé in the States,” she replied quickly.  It wasn’t entirely a lie, considering Pierre was her betrothed, but neither party had an interest in following through with the arrangement.  “And a sister back in Paris.” Well, Pierre, had a sister in Paris.

“I’ll make sure we wrap this war up quickly then,” Joseph chortled.  He clapped a hand on Mabel’s shoulder.  “Can’t keep you and your lady away for too much longer.  It’s just inhumane.”

“Feels like this war is never going to end,” Mabel grumbled lightly before saluting the waiting soldier outside of the mess.

“That’s going to be up to you, Garnier,” her superior officer had heard the comment and smirked in her direction.  “You men are some of the best shots in Europe and the powers that be have decided to put their faith in you.”

“When did it really hit you?” Steve asked Bucky while they watched the frail woman sleeping in the medical bay.  They’d been instructed to wait outside the room while doctors and nurses fretted about.

“When did what hit me?” the brunette asked, not bothering to look up at his companion.  Instead, he kept a tight blue gaze locked on the woman as her chest slow rose and sank on the sterile bed.

“The reality of what had happened,” Steve clarified.  “Time travel, Hydra, and the general confusion.”

“Not sure if I’ve fully accepted it, to be honest,” Bucky replied.  He gave a long sigh and narrowed his eyes at a machine showing the woman’s vitals.  For 120-something years old, she was doing pretty well.  Perhaps it was a testament to Hydra’s scientific ability.

“I get that,” Steve shifted his weight.  “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and be tiny again.”

“Hey, you never know,” Bucky glanced at his friend and allowed a grin.  “We’re all just test subjects right?"

“I don’t know, if whatever is in us kept her going for 100 years, maybe I’ll never see it happen,” he joked.  Steve gave Bucky a punch and the latter muttered under his breath.

“Punk,” he shook his head and continued to stare through the glass.  “Her face- it seems familiar.  But I can’t place it.”

Admittedly, when Bucky first saw the mysterious woman, he felt that tugging at his memory he hadn’t felt since initially leaving Hydra’s control.  He couldn’t place it.  She never worked with him on missions and she was too young to have been out of freeze for very long to interact significantly with him.

“Anything bad?” Steve’s voice revealed an air of worry to Bucky’s comment.  “Maybe a sleeper agent?”

“No,” he frowned.  “Nothing like that.  I would have known.”

He’d been instructed to work with a number of agents from around the world.  Bucky would have definitely remembered her.

“I’m sure we’ll find out then,” Steve nodded toward the med bay where the woman was beginning to stir.  Non-essential staff was ushered out by the lead doctor and Steve was gestured to go inside.  “Wish me luck.”

“Don’t die,” Barnes teased in return, helping his friend by opening the glass door for him.

Steve made his way to a chair by the woman’s beside and waited patiently for her eyes to flutter open.

After she falsely recognized Steve in the Hydra base, it was decided that perhaps he be the one to introduce her to the new world she now resided in.  He definitely had the experience, both personal and professionally helping Bucky.

Bucky leaned into the glass, wishing more than anything he could hear the conversation that was occurring in front of him.  Steve spoke first, and Bucky could tell the super soldier was talking in hushed and calming tones.  The woman simply sat up in her bed and stared.

Her eyes trailed around the room, studying the various pieces of equipment and the doctor who stood quietly to the side, before settling on the blonde once again.  Bucky was suddenly thankful for the one-way glass that surrounded the room.

If she was frightened, she didn’t reveal it physically.  Clearly this was a person who had mastered masking their emotions long before this encounter.  Next to Bucky, a psychologist was listening through a headset to what was being said and scribbling down notes.  The former assassin tried his best not to be nosy but caught a few glimpses of what had been written down.

Hesitant, observant, nervous

Nervous? Bucky did not agree with that assessment one bit.  He knew that look and it wasn’t a nervous one.  If anything, she was prepping an escape or mentally taking in her potential threats before making a decision.  Steve stood up and offered a hand to the woman and she gave it a gentle shake, her eyes still watching him with suspicion and judgement.

Psychologists were a load of crap anyway- at least in Bucky’s opinion.  They didn’t do anything and honestly caused more trouble than they resolved.  Sure, Steve would probably disagree, but Bucky refused to back down from his stance.

She still hadn’t opened her mouth- choosing instead to listen to the information given to her.  The doctor now stood forward and ran through some clinical information.  Steve was off to the side, occasionally sending the woman a reassuring smile or nod after the doctor said something.  After that, the doctor left the room to just Steve and the woman.

Now it was Bucky’s turn.

When the doctor went into the hallway, she gestured for Bucky to go inside.  Clearly they were happy with the young woman’s progress if he was allowed inside.  Steve was supposed to cover the basics- Hi, you’re in the future.  I’m from the past too.  Everything is ok, you’re not with Hydra anymore.  Bucky was mainly there for moral support.

He opened the door and slid inside as quietly as he could.  He didn’t want to rattle her; knowing full well how every sense was tuned to the smallest stimuli after freezing.

“This is James Barnes,” Steve introduced, pushing him a little closer to the woman.  “He was a soldier too, in a different war with me.”

“Hello,” he greeted, suddenly feeling very awkward and clumsy under the woman’s hazel gaze.  It seemed like the color of her eyes had hardened now that she was a little more conscious.

“I remember you,” she simply stated, her expression unchanging and sending a chill down Bucky’s core.  She recognized him as well.  He wasn't crazy.  He tensed, waiting for more information, readying himself to fight.  

“He was in the lab with us when you initially woke up,” Steve tried to interject but she shook her head.

“No, before this,” she noted, her expression slipping to confusion a brief moment before the mask covered her again.  “You’re still young.”

James was at a loss for words.  He hadn’t encountered a single soul from Hydra who didn’t mean him malicious intent, perhaps he'd forgotten a bitter past?  Maybe she was a sleeper agent he'd encountered briefly during his training? He stood there, his expression souring before Steve intervened with a quick question.

“What do you remember?” he prompted the woman, his hand going to Bucky’s arm to calm the man.  It was probably for the best.  Bucky felt like he was about to make an incredibly stupid decision if left to his own devices.  He kept his mouth shut and let Steve do the talking.  Even if he thought Steve was an idiot for underestimating this woman's past, perhaps violence wasn't the best approach.

“I met you twice,” she continued, her voice growing in strength while she spoke, her body language suggested no anger or resentment, but perhaps she masked it as well as her other thoughts.  “Before and after…” she gestured toward his left arm and frowned.  Was that guilt he detected?  Perplexed, Bucky felt his chest loosen and he grabbed an extra chair from the side of the room, sliding it next to Steve's.  The blonde soldier` took note and sat down next to him, his eyes glancing in Bucky's direction, ready to jump in if needed.  

“They did a- er- something on us-,” she paused trying to find the correct word.  “Transfusion sanguine.”

A blood transfusion, he mentally translated.  From time to time he recalled flashes of his fall from the train; the agony of losing his left arm and the subsequent surgery that followed.

“Your arm was not saved, despite their efforts,” she explained, the hardening in her eyes shifting to pity at the man in front of her.  “The transfusion saved your life.  They said something about a serum.  It was in Russian so I didn’t understand it all.”

“What happened after that?” Steve tried to pull more information from the woman, but her eyes became distant and she shook her head.  

“I don’t think that’s a story for today, my apologies,” she practically whispered the words, her voice hollow and shaking.  That was fear, Bucky realized.  And he was pretty sure he knew why.

“Your name’s Mabel, right?” Bucky finally spoke up and the auburn haired woman looked startled at his sudden question.  She looked as tense as he felt, perhaps she had been reading him while they spoke.  He repeated the name in a softer tone.  “Mabel Foster?”

“No one has said that name in a very long time,” she replied with a weak smile, visibly relaxing.  “But yes, that is the name I was given at birth.”

The trio fell silent before Steve stood and announced that Mabel needed to get some more sleep before they tried to talk again.  Bucky murmured his agreement before Mabel interrupted their leaving with a small question.

“You said I’ve been asleep a while,” she looked uncertain a moment, as if she wasn’t interested in the answer to the question but knew she had to ask.  “And you’re still here…” she trailed off when she looked at Bucky.  Her expression lost and distant a moment, they waited for her to continue.  When she jumped back to reality, she finally was able to phrase the question.  “What year is it?”

Steve stumbled over words before Bucky stepped forward and knelt down next to the woman’s bed so he was eye level with her.  He wasn't going to pull the punch.  The sooner she find out, the better.  

“It’s been a hundred years, Mabel,” he stated firmly.  The woman didn’t look surprised, he noted while he waited.  She rustled some of her blankets and repositioned herself on the small hospital mattress.

“I see,” she merely commented.  “Thank you Mr. Barnes, and Mr. Rogers.”

The men could tell that was her way of dismissing them and they quickly parted the room.  When they entered the hallway, the medical staff had all but disappeared.   Tony and Natasha had made their way to the level and were muttering amongst themselves.  

The lights in the room dimmed when Mabel fell back into her bed.  Before Bucky could catch another look, Tony blacked the glass out, conserving the woman’s privacy for the evening.

“She knew you,” Natasha stated when the soldiers approached their duo.  “Are we sure she isn’t an agent?”

“I don’t think so,” Bucky insisted.  He ran an anxious hand through his mess of brown hair and shook his head.  “She gave me a blood transfusion.  I think she was a science project for them.”

To his core, Bucky felt sick at the idea of the woman waiting around to be harvested after he returned from missions.  Perhaps it’d been a one-time thing and she’d been the most stable with his serum? 

“We’re still working on the files we gathered from the base,” Tony’s voice brought Bucky out of his daze and he saw that Steve and Natasha were listening intently.  “It was built by a Dr. Krauss toward the middle of World War 1.  Funded by a wealthy beneficiary in the German empire with Hydra ties but that’s all we know right now.  Hopefully when our friend is feeling up to it, she can provide a little insight."

“If we can trust her,” Natasha reminded him coolly.  Of course the red haired spy was careful to believe anything an outsider brought to the table.  She needed all the facts, and if the facts showed anything at this point, this woman was no better than Bucky was at his height of power in Hydra.

“I’ve got nothing but time,” Tony laughed, folding his tablet shut and turning on his heel toward his apartment.

Germany- French held Trenches- Midnight-  August 1917

“She lost the baby,” Joseph whispered to his companion over the hum of explosions and stray gunshots.  “In June, I guess.”

“Joseph, I’m so sorry,” Mabel gave her friend a genuine look of misery for his suffering.  The blonde-haired man leaned up against the muddy trench and frowned.

“I’m supposed to ship back for a week in October,” he continued solemnly.  “Maybe we can give it another try.”

“Perhaps,” Mabel agreed quietly, unsure of what else to supply to him.  When her cousin lost her first child, the woman was inconsolable.  What Mabel would do for Joseph to be by his wife’s side during this devastating time...

“Our neighbors are watching her,” he added.  “The Barnes’.  They just had a boy of their own a bit ago.  Sarah said he’s a sweet kid, a quiet baby.  Hopefully that’ll help.  Gee, I don’t know.”

He gave a bitterly sad laugh.  The pain was echoed through the trench a moment.

“I was technically right,” he added after a few heartbeats of silence.  “It’d been a girl.  Her name was Maria after Sarah’s mother.  They found her a little plot outside of the cemetery.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly.  “I’m gonna visit her when I go back.”

“Send my regards,” Mabel replied, she blinked back a few tears that threatened to spill over.

“Her Uncle Pierre will always be welcomed,” Joseph snickered.  “I’ll make sure Sarah sends some goodies back with me.  We gotta fatten you up.”

PART 3