since | steve rogers

• MMT •

FOURTEEN • MMT

River returned to the safe house. Natasha ran to River, instantly bombarding River with questions that she didn't know how to answer. It was moments later that Maria Hill entered the apartment. She was holding the purse in one hand and the thumb drive in the other.

"Did you get it?" Natasha pulled away from River, allowing the girl to think once more. The two agents began speaking again, so River took the opportunity to slip into her bedroom unnoticed (or ignored.)

She changed out of the stiff clothing into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. While she wound her hair into one long braid in the bathroom, the door open, Steve Rogers stumbled inside.

"Are you okay?"

Every so often, River forgot that she shared a house with that man. Momentary fear clenched at her heart, though it wasn't because of him, instead of the memories his face brought. She shook away the icy claw around her heart and sent him a wavering smile.

"How was it?" he asked, his voice quiet, just like it always was when he was around her. River bound her hair with a hair-tie and let go of the braid.

"Good, I think. I didn't die; Maria said that was good," her eyes flickered to the ground, desperately wanting to leave the bathroom.

"I see that," River could hear the gentle smile in his voice. "It's only three," he began. "Would you like to go out into the city?"

River pursed her lips, her eyes immediately locking on Natasha and Maria in the other room. She didn't know whether or not they would even allow her to leave. Then again, she would instead take one of Hydra's bullets than willingly go somewhere alone with Steve Rogers.

"I'm okay; thank you for offering," River slipped by him, her head low and bangs falling in her eyes. She went into the kitchen to grab a bowl of leftovers, her head swimming. River didn't like to read in large increments, as the information overloaded her mind, even if she had read those same pages dozens of times before. Her brain could only process so much. If she had an eidetic memory, it was still hard to retain information without nearly passing out.

River decided to sit on the balcony. Sitting always helped calm her mind, which is the excuse River often used when she was lazy for so long. Jet lag was beginning to take a toll on her. In New York, it was past 4:00 AM, and the time she slept yesterday was starting to wear off.

She curled up on the outdoor couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she spooned spicy fried rice into her mouth. As she ate, car horns honking and the sounds of the city, River felt her head begin to spin. She ignored it, blaming it on her exhaustion and all of the data. What she was feeling at that moment was different, however. It felt as if her brain was being put in a blender and was spinning around and around. River stood, placing the plate on the table.

"Hey, Natasha!" River called out, stumbling to the doorway. Natasha and Maria looked up, worry etched onto their faces at the girl. She looked sick, with a pale face and bruised under-eyes.

"Are you okay?" Maria asked. River leaned onto the door frame, her grip slipping with sweat. River took a step forward, her knees wobbling.

"I don't feel-" and she collapsed, her head striking the ground violently.

"River? River!"

. . .

However, many hours later, River woke up to bright light. She squinted against it, bringing her hand to her eyes. While her eyes adjusted, she took some time to look around. She was lying on a white chair, similar to one a dentist might own. The rest of the room was bare, save for a single metal cart with various tools on it. She had been changed out of her previous attire and now wore what looked like light grey scrubs.

Wherever she was, she was alone. "Hello?" she called out. She struggled to her feet, her legs weak for a moment. She used the edge of the chair for support as her body slowly woke up. "Hello! Can somebody help me?"

Her voice was scratchy, and her throat was sore, likely from lack of water. There was a door to her right, so River walked to it and placed her hands on the cold metal. Through the circular window, River spied a long hallway at which she was at the end of.

River placed her hand on the door handle, and after several unsuccessful twists, the knob gave the door unlocked. River pushed it open and stepped outside. The hallway had no other exits, except for one at the very end.

She hurried to the door, her feet bare feet slapping against the white tile. The door, unlike her room's, had a keypad. River tried it, entering random sequences, each time unsurprisingly unsuccessful. She banged against the door, loud thuds echoing around the hall at an unpleasantly loud volume.

"Hey! Let me out!" she cried out, banging her fist against the door. After minutes of trying, River sat at the foot of the door. On the ceiling, there was a black domed security camera. River locked her eyes on the camera, her expression angry and confused.

She leaned her head against the wall and let out a tired sigh. Her head had stopped hurting, thankfully, but her limbs felt sore, and her body felt heavy. Every movement costed more energy than what it usually did.

"Welcome to the Syanov Petr Gennadiyevich Mnemonist Memory Test. Please press play to begin."

The voice sounded distant, as if from another room. River looked around. She was alone, meaning nobody had been speaking.

"Welcome to the Syanov Petr Gennadiyevich Mnenomist Memory Test. Please press play to begin."

River rose, her attention back on her original room. From behind the window, it looked as if her room was illuminated. She pushed the door open, and to her surprise, one of the walls had a picture projected onto it.

"Welcome to the Syanov Petr Gennadiyevich Mnenomist Memory Test. Please press play to begin."

On the chair was a small remote will only one button: the pause. River picked it up and sat on the chair, facing the picture. It didn't look anything special. It was a simple flower, and the sun in the background.

Uncertainty, River pressed play.

"Welcome to the Syanov Petr Gennadiyevich Mnenomist Memory Test, or for short, the MMT. In a few moments, you will be shown a series of numbers that will only be on the screen for twenty-five seconds. Your goal is to memorize as many as possible, and when directed, recite as many as you can remember. Starting in 3, 2, 1."

The screen turned dark for several moments, and the black void was replaced with what looked to be thousands of numbers displayed on the wall. For a few seconds, River stared at it, taken aback. So, she did her best and began to read. For her, it was easy, a simple task that she had done many times before, although she had never been judged.

And as soon as it started, it was over.

"Please recite the United States of America's national anthem backward."

Was this a joke? It sure seemed like it. Nonetheless, River began. It was a slow and choppy process, involving her backtracking and going through the song again to remember the lyrics. When she finished, the woman's voice asked her to do forty jumping jacks, which she did as quickly as possible.

"Thank you. In five seconds, please recite the numbers shown to you a couple of minutes ago. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1."

It was easy, and River wasn't sure what the point of it all was. As she sat there, legs dangling off the chair and swinging mindlessly, River Reece almost laughed through the mouthful of numbers. It was a game to her. River reciting those numbers took just about as much effort as an athletic fourteen-year-old playing a game of ten-step hopscotch.

When she was finished after what felt like an eternity later. The screen went black again.

"Thank you for playing."

And the room went dark.

this was all over the place who even knows what is happening anymore