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Brenna tried to hold back a smile of amusement as the Winter Soldier inched closer. She continued to let her hands pulse. Before long, the man was sitting criss-cross and facing Brenna through the bars. He held onto a single iron rod with his metal hand.

Unable to hold it back any longer Brenna smiled. But this faded when she saw Bucky reaching his flesh hand through the bars. She stopped her plasma from flowing and pulled her hands away from him. His eyes met hers with a look of confusion. "You'll hurt yourself, if you touch it," Brenna explained.

The Winter Soldier furrowed his eyebrows. How could something so gentle and soft-looking hurt? "Let me," his voice came out smoothly yet demanding.

Brenna raised an eyebrow and sighed, lifting her left hand. She pushed just the smallest bit, not wanting to hurt him. A single heart beat of smooth plasma slowly travelled up between her index and middle fingers. Bucky gently touched it, making it quiver like the string of an instrument.

To Brenna's surprise, he wasn't hurt. She looked up at his face in wonder as he continued to stare at her hand. Releasing the bar from his metal grasp, the Winter Soldier took Brenna's hand with both of his. He brought it up to his eye level and examined her palm with squinting eyes. Again, Brenna smirked a bit. "It healed," she told him, realizing he was looking for her cut.

Bucky dropped her hand, his eyebrows still drawn down in seriousness and confusion. His gaze landed on Brenna's bloodied shoulder. Even there, her bullet wounds were nearly gone.

"That was quick," he muttered, though his voice sounded unimpressed. He then stood and walked away from the barred wall. He sat back down where he had originally started, far away from Brenna. But he continued to steal glances at her. She was nice to look at, and he couldn't quite comprehend why yet. With his mind still being mostly mush, it was hard for him realize that he found this woman interesting.

So Bucky continued to watch Brenna as she sat in boredom. His head, thoughtless, as time passed.

• June 2, 2014 •

It was early in the morning; Brenna guessed 2-3 am. In the cell to her left, the Winter Soldier slept on his cot. Footsteps came from down the hallway, increasing in volume until stopping at Brenna's cell door. Locks were undone and two men entered. They hoisted her to her feet and began lead her away.

Brenna didn't try to resist. And it wasn't long before she was thrown yet another prison-like room. The only furniture was a table and two chairs about five yards away from the door. In one chair sat Pierce. He gestured for her to take the other. "Please, sit," he offered generously.  When Brenna took a seat, Pierce leaned his elbows on the table and continued, "I want to congratulate you; you've succeeded in peaking my interest."

Brenna didn't reply, unsure what to say. "You know, it's quite a rare ability you have," he went on casually, "when did it start?"

She squinted her eyes at him before retorting, "can't say I remember."

"Really?" Pierce asked, pretending to take her seriously, "well, that's a shame...I didn't want to have to bring your father here for questioning...and I can't say I'd be as kind to him..."

Fear flashed across Brenna's brownish-golden eyes. Pierce grinned. "Just recently," Brenna gave in, answering him with a glare.

Pierce pointed at her chest. "And I'm guessing it has something to do with that," he observed.

Again, Brenna didn't answer. She'd picked up on a couple of voices talking quietly just outside the barred door. Although it seemed that Pierce couldn't make out their words, Brenna could. She stared down at the table, focusing on the hushed voices.

"But it's not like the helicarriers can just take down Captain America."

"Oh yeah? Why not?"

"Because he's a damn super human; he'll find some way to escape. And now they have this freak."

"You mean the freak that's in our prison? Yeah, I doubt she'll be able to help them from behind bars.

Brenna furrowed her eyebrows slightly. "What is it that's powering your heart?" Pierce asked.

Again, she didn't answer. The voices a ways behind her continued.

"Pierce said he might want her brainwashed."

"Like the other guy? That's a stupid idea."

"Dude, she turned bullets into dust; she could be useful."

Pierce narrowed his eyes at Brenna, wondering what she was doing. "Brenna, answer the question," he ordered with dwindling patience. Realizing what she was doing now, Pierce stood abruptly. "Stop talking," he barked across the cell to the two gaurds outside. He glared down at Brenna and growled, "she's listening."

He then grabbed her by her wounded shoulder. Lifting her out of the chair, he thrust her to the ground. Brenna groaned as her head nailed the floor. And when she managed to sit back up, a hard hand met her cheek.

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