Hello! So thanks for all the comments on the last chapter, sorry for keeping y'all in suspence! But again there is another cliff-hanger at the end of this chapter too! Thanks to my Beta-Reader JoMiSm who is amazing and makes this story so much better, go check her out!

Black.

Darkness.

Dim.

A black hole, swirling round and round, trapped.

Slowly, Evie rose up, out of the unconsciousness. With a groan, she felt a hard surface beneath her head and under the rest of her body. She half opened one eye. Her eyes were greeted by a flickering light bulb and a dingy, dull room. She pulled herself up using the wall behind her, pulling her knees to her chest. She scanned the small room. Stained white paint peeling from the corners of the walls caught her attention, along with the flickering light bulb swinging gently and a large steel door, sealing her in.

She felt the tears creep up her throat. She was back. Maybe all of it was a dream? Yes, she decided. She had dreamed heaven, trying to escape hell.

"Natasha!" It sounded like her name was being called from outside a bubble, like it wasn't even her name being called. She flinched at the loud noises. They were painful on her sore ears.

"Natasha!" that name, it was being called yet again. Maybe it was her name? She caught the ends of a conversation happening nearby.

"-She was taken back."

"I hope she is alright." the voice sounded concerned.

"All we can do is hope."

Natasha sprung up, gasping, coughing. Her blurred vision started to focus. She saw the white bandage covering her shoulder. The smell of smoke was in her nostrils, flashing lights, loud noises, sirens, talking. Someone coming towards her.

"Natasha?" Natasha snapped out of it, looking into Clint's eyes.

"Where is she?" she said, suppressing her panic and searching for Evie. Natasha thought back, not believing her fuzzy memories. All of the color drained out of Clint's face. He slowly shook his head and swallowed.

"I'm sorry, Nat..." he croaked out. In all of the years they had been working together, Natasha had never seen Clint even shed a tear, and yet, here he was, about to burst into tears in front of her. Natasha reigned in her emotions; she would not give up this easily. She breathed in and pushed off Clint's shoulder, grimacing as she stood up. She took in her surroundings. She was outside the smouldering base, agents dashing everywhere, people calling loved ones.

"Come on." she said, walking slowly, still in pain from the gunshot.

"What? Nat! You just got shot in the shoulder, you can't go anywhere." Clint said, gently pulling her arm, trying to stop her.

She whirled back to face him. "I need her back with me, Clint. We can't just leave her to die." She pleaded, looking into his hurt eyes. Clint had a soft spot for the girl. She was smart and saw what Clint felt for Natasha, which most didn't point out to him. But what hurt the most was seeing the women he loved-Yes, loved- in so much pain and turmoil.

Clint didn't know what to do with himself. He would do anything to get Evie back, safe with Natasha. But she could die. This wasn't like other missions; this was personal and emotional. She could get hurt in so many ways. Clint couldn't take any more happening to her after all she'd already been through. She wouldn't forgive him if he was the fault for delaying and possibly hurting Evie. She needed out, and fast.

"I'm coming with you." He said, adjusting the arrows on his back.

"Me too." A voice came from behind the two. Steve was dusty, trailing smoke, and parts of his clothes were ripped. "We do this as a team." he said with seriousness, glancing at the pair. Natasha and Clint nodded in agreement.

"We have no time to lose." Natasha said, turning and heading to the vehicle storage unit. With any luck, it'll still be in one piece. The two men followed at a fast pace behind her.

A salty tear rolled down Evie's cheek as scanned the room for any way of escape. The door looked too heavy to budge. She noticed a small white object in one of the corners of the room. Upon closer investigation, Evie figured out that it was a camera. Of course they'd be watching her; they always were. The room she was sat in was even worse than the room she started in. It was bare, no bed, no cabinet, no window. Nothing. It was like she was being punished.

She had heard no one come past. If someone had walked past, she would've heard them, for this was a thing that she was trained at. Nothing, No one. Before now, she could hear people rush by, like they were trying to ignore the room she was in; trying to ignore her. Apart from Mr. Simmons, she guessed everybody was digusted at what they were doing. They wouldn't look her in the eye; most wouldn't call her by her name.

In the beginning, she didn't have name. She remembered when she was small, she was called something like '234,' like an object. That's what she was to them, an object.

She remembered the day she got her name. She'd overheard the conversation; it wasn't far from her room. They had decided to give her name to make her seem 'more human,' so the carers could call her something more than a number and not treat her like an object. Simmons was a lot more patient, back in the day, even though he had a strange way of showing it. He thought she could be killer at such a young age. Once, he had cared for her, but as the days kept coming, Evie only slowly improving, he gave up being nice and gave up just catching her when she ran. She needed to punished, and that is exactly what he did. Punished her.

She leaned her head back on the cold wall and wondered why they picked the name Evie.

Natasha loaded her gun, her third one, before she placed it in her holster. It was like a routine; it was something to concentrate on rather than worrying. The plane carrier was undamaged. They picked out a jet quickly. Clint carried out checks and setting up, readying the jet to go. They got into place, and took off.

"How many people are we talking here?" Steve asked, looking up from his shield.

"200." She looked at him "-ish" she shrugged. She didn't care how many enemies were there; she would kill a thousand men to get back to Evie.

"...Right" Steve nodded, trying to act nonchalant. 'Three versus 200-ish, great.' He thought, going back to tending the scratches on his shield.

"Ten minutes, guys!" Clint called from the cockpit. He had never been so nervous in his life; he was more scared than in New York. In the battle of New York, all of them had nothing to lose; really Tony was the only one, he had Pepper. But apart from that, they all had nothing. But now, they had something, all of them. They all had each other, and that special little girl.

The small girl giggled at she swung her legs, sitting on the lab table. Her daddy was good with science, and she loved when she had days off of school so that she could go to work with her daddy.

"What are you giggling at, you?" her father said, smiling, looking up from his computer. She simply shook her head and jumped off the counter. She ran over to her dad, and sat on his lap.

"Who's that?" she asked innocently, pointing to what looked like a small girl playing on the screen.

"That's what I'm working on, sweetie. That girl is going to be my best work." he said, smiling at his daughter.

Simmons sighed, looking at crumpled picture that had been hidden in his desk drawer. His thumb grazed over the picture of the smiling girl holding her fathers hand. He grimaced at the sight of him, smiling, so happy. He was so naive. He now knew that progress, success, did not come with sacrifices. He had made the biggest sacrifice of anyone, one he did not even choose to happen. He was foolish, everyone was.

He had lost all that was precious to him because of her. She was the problem. Yes, it was wrong to use her as a weapon. But she was the reason he had lost his daughter. She would pay, she would succeed in becoming a weapon, or he would die trying.