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The sun is barely rising over New York but Steve Rogers is awake, sat in a couch that over looks the city, on the table in front of him a beaten and battered box, open to reveal the photos, trinkets and sketches within. Mementos of his early years, his life in the 40s. He leans with his head in his hand, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, his eyes locked onto a sketch in his hand. The subject of his artwork varies, but the most prominent is Sammy. A woman. A beautifully stunning woman. Her face has been seared into his memories since the moment he woke up from the ice. She was the first thing he thought of when he lay in that bed and opened his eyes.....he touches the lines on the paper, trying not to disrupt the charcoal too much, he doesn't want to destroy the sketch. He glances to the letter from Peggy and smiles a little. When he'd gone under she'd made sure all his things were kept safe, but his sketches she'd made sure where kept from public eyes, his sketches of Sammy specifically. Peggy had protected them all these years. Steve looks up hearing someone cry out in pain down the hallway away from him, Steve's eyebrows pinched in a mix of annoyance, concern and questioning. It's Natasha Romanoff that he sees entering the communal entertainment room first, she's wearing her Black Widow suit, she sees Steve's expression and shrugs a little.

"Barton tripped" Natasha offers with a smirk, Steve turns back to the box in front of him and tidies it away, making sure all his photos and sketches are away before Natasha joins him, she glances to the clock on the wall, and then turns back to Steve. "What are you doing up this early?"

"Couldn't sleep" Steve admits leaning back on the couch. Natasha's eyes flicker to the box but she doesn't bring it up when she looks away. "Where are you two going?" Steve asks as Clint appears in his Hawkeye suit pulling his bow and quiver into place on his back.

"Fury's sending us on an extraction mission" Clint answers. "Some operative needs picking up"

"And that's something you two usually do?" Steve asks with a frown knowing that it's not where their talents best lie.

"No" Natasha answers. "But Fury wants people he can trust bringing them back" she snaps her widow's bite cuff into place and offers him a smile. "You worried about us, Cap?" she asks, Steve snorts a little and shakes his head, he stops when he catches sight of a photo he hadn't put away. One of Sammy. His fingers twitch on his knee wanting to reach for it. "Why don't you try and get some sleep before the others start getting up?" Natasha asks him, Steve hums a little acknowledging her but he doesn't offer a verbal response, Natasha and Clint share a look, Clint shrugging back before they both walk away, out of the room and towards the hanger. Steve lets out a breath and reaches over picking up the faded photo.


A cold wind blows hard against concrete walls, whistling through to the interior of a room. It's not really decorated, and the items that are there are basically propaganda. A woman lays awake listening to the wind, her arms tucked back under her head, reddish pink hair fanned over the pillow under her head as she stares up at the ceiling watching the light bulb flicker. Samantha 'Sammy' Howlett, dressed in an all in one tactical suit, halter neck, cut off at the shoulders leaving the tops of her arms bare, her lower arms, wrists and hands covered by black gloves, and black boots that reach up to just under her knees. All of which are accented with a dark green pipping detail. She lets out a breath and pulls her knees up slightly before stretching them out again. She's waiting for the facility to fall silent for the night, as she does every night. It's easier to sneak around when the facility is running on a shadow crew. She's well versed at it now. Undercover for 5 years now. In fact 5 years today. 5 years she's been infiltrating and gaining favor with this organisation. 

The green hexopus symbol on the left breast of her suit marks her as a member of Hydra. Currently. That will change. When she is pulled out of here. She hates pretending to be one of these people. But Logan was too familiar, his face too recognisable. She's been hiding in the background, the shadows since the beginning, she was the only choice. She's not the person she has to be for them, but she's been here so long she's starting to worry that she's not going to be able to find the old her. She cocks her head slightly listening to something vibrate under her. A cell phone. She glances to the door to her 'room', listens a moment before turning back to her bed and lifting the mattress from it, there in the under side of it is a knife slice, she reaches into the slice and pulls out a brown envelope, setting the mattress back into place she turns to sit on it instead, opening the envelope so she can pull the cell phone out from within, it's an older model, very low tech, but enough to do it's job. 

A message flashes on the screen, encoded but understandable for her, she taps the screen with a black nail before she stands and moves into action. She throws the phone onto the bed and then moves to where the desk sits against the wall, she looks up checking again before she yanks the desk away from the wall revealing a deep hole in the wall, crouching she reaches into it and pulls out a length of gold rope, a lasso and a vintage 1940s watch before she stands again, clipping the lasso to her belt, and then makes sure the watch is secure on her wrist. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes before nodding to herself and snapping her eyes open, this time they are glowing gold and the lasso sparks to life at her side.

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