"YOU NEED TO EAT."

She glared at the curly haired man standing in front of the glass, his brow furrowed as he looked at her, his arms crossed and glasses slipping from the bridge of his nose, looking just barely frustrated at the entire situation, glancing over at the food she still hadn't eaten and the chair that was bolted to the floor, which she was unable to use to fight back.

She had searched for a way out for the rest of the first day, futilely trying to break the glass, gritting her teeth and ignoring the food that rested on the floor, coming through an opening that, when she tried to break through, seemed to be completely solid.

The man had stopped by every so often to check up on her, and she tried to remain as calculating as ever, but she had never once been prepared in the event that she was captured, as there was always some way to get out. But this time, there was nothing.

It was the second day, and she tried to think of an escape route, pacing around her box to take in her surroundings. This was the second day, and she could feel herself start to separate, her serum focused on escaping and the part of her mind that had lain dormant and asleep for her own protection now awake and alert, as this was the first time that there was no immediate plan.

She sighed, more aware of all her surroundings, which was strange; this only happened on the last days before she had to be called back in to get another dose before being sent out into the field. But she had also never been trapped before.

But her serum was still in affect and her training still ingrained, so she simply sat at her chair and searched for a new perspective. When she found nothing of use, like she had hours before, she simply stared down the man who was standing in front of her, his hands now clasped together, glasses now hanging from his shirt.

"What's your name?" he asked, soft and kind, though she didn't quite understand the second part, as kindness was a concept not worth anyone's time.

She set her jaw, refusing to respond. The first rule, should she ever get captured—a concept long since forgotten when it came to her masters—was to never answer any questions, even if it cost her life. There was a small part of her mind, however, that reminded her that she didn't have a name, so a response would be nonexistent to begin with.

The man sighed, and she watched as he began to breathe in a certain way, his muscles beginning to relax and his shoulders moving away from his ears, down to their resting position. It was intriguing.

"Would you like to know my name?" he offered, and she clenched her jaw, because responding wasn't in her training, and she already knew his name.

But he could tell her more.

So she simply sat there, but loosened her jaw enough for him to notice and, as expected, he took the bait, moving to sit on one of the tables within the room, starting to speak. "My name is Bruce Banner, I'm a scientist and I live here. Can I ask where you're from?"

Clearly, he presented no new information that could be of any use. 

She barely shifted at his next question, keeping her expression blank. This was the genius of her masters, they made sure knew nothing, so there was no chance for them to be compromised. She was both expendable and indispensable all at once.

But how long until she was fully expendable? The part of her that had lain dormant rose to the surface for the briefest of moments, reminding her of the other member that was training alongside her. If they were training others, she wasn't completely indispensable.

She entertained the thought for half a moment, the serum forcing her back to focus on the present, staring blankly at Bruce Banner who seemed to be struggling to keep himself calm and collected.

"You need to eat something," he pressed, motioning to her untouched food, and she allowed her eyes to skim over it, if only to upset him more. 

Turning her attention back to him with the same expression, he sighed, rubbing his face, and she began to weigh her options, because if she wore him down, she would have the power, but she was running the risk of releasing the monster that was held within him.

But if she didn't find a way out, she would run the risk of releasing the human that was held within herself.

Of course, she didn't know that would happen, all she knew was that something would happen at the end of a week and, if she didn't escape, she would be in danger and her masters and facility would be in jeopardy.

She had yet to wonder where her associates were, they were always there to help her, but they were nowhere to be found. Of course, she was expendable in one sense, but she was also indispensable in another.

The silent staring became too much for Bruce and he sighed, rubbing his face as he made his way towards one of the monitors, glancing towards her as he began to work. She tried to see what he was doing, as the screen was transparent, but she couldn't understand the charts and words that were appearing in front of him.

"You're going to have to eat eventually," he said, gesturing towards the untouched plates of food, "Do you need a drink with it? We have water."

She just stared at him. Because that was what she did the entire time. Of course, if she wasn't so focused, she would point out to herself, and perhaps even to him, that she hardly ever ate to begin with, but she was still as focused as usual.

Bruce frowned at the monitor in front of him, taking the readings the glass encasing was taking of the woman, mumbling softly to himself, "There were no readings yesterday. What is this?"

She blinked, taking in the words with vague interest. Whatever her masters had put into her, it was clearly keeping her from being tracked or traced. She believed this to be good, at least until her week was up.

Bruce caught her eye, mumbling to himself, but enough for her to hear, even through the glass.

"I'll figure you out eventually."

º º º

Eventually was the fourth day.

But first, the third day. The third day was when her serum truly became desperate. When she was on a mission, she was able to focus, but without anything to focus on, what with being stuck in a glass chamber, her mind had too little to focus on and too much to think about herself.

She woke up on the third day to a feeling of hunger and her mind unfocused. Her abilities seemed to fluctuate throughout the rest of the day, hyper-focusing on aspects of the room around her in an attempt to escape, only for her to turn back to the new plate of food that appeared in her cell, eating like she hadn't eaten in days.

She couldn't remember eating last, so perhaps that was the truth. Either way, she could hardly focus on anything, her head throbbing as she desperately searched for a way out, her usually calm and rational demeanor beginning to crack.

She could feel it cracking. She could feel the part of her mind that laid dormant gaining more power, her intrusive, human thoughts pouring out in longer intervals, going on for ten whole seconds before finally being fought against; she had counted on the clock on the table, which she was still able to read perfectly.

Bruce had simply watched her. She refused to answer any of his questions, but she had silently asked for food, glancing towards her empty plate. She had stared at it for a long time, only to stare at the plate that he returned with, feeling her mouth water; it had never done that before.

It was only when her attention was diverted to other aspects of the room that the plate was switched out, and she spent hours trying to find the entry point for him to switch out the plate, but she couldn't, no matter what angle she put herself at.

Then the pain. 

She was watching Bruce who, after watching her actions within her cell, went back to his work, mumbling to himself in clear confusion as he read all the charts and results he was given, looking towards her with concern.

The part of her mind desperately clinging onto the serum which was depleting faster than usual—it wasn't just the lack of a mission, it was that he had done something, he told her himself, he had put something into the room while she was asleep—told her that she now had some leverage, but the fact of the matter was there was no way to use it, she was the one trapped.

She had never been trapped before. The realization hit her all at once, then she was struggling to breathe, her chest constricting and her stomach tightening as she was gasping for breath, and she couldn't focus, she couldn't think, and Bruce was trying to speak to her, but she wasn't listening because all she could think of was what her masters would do to her once they got her out, only then she realized that she wasn't ever going to get out, because they had left her, and then the pain.

The excruciating, mind numbing pain that hit her as quickly as the realization had, and then she was screaming and crying out, her throat hoarse as her entire body felt as though it was being stretch, constricted, and set on fire, every part of her being stabbed by jagged blades that were twisted before being pulled out, tearing her limb from limb and ripping her to shreds.

She didn't know how long it lasted, but when she came to, it was the fourth day.

The fourth day and she could do nothing but panic. She woke and immediately began to hyperventilate, because everything was too bright, yet not bright enough and her head hurt and she couldn't focus on anything, none of her abilities were available to her, she couldn't read the clock that was on the other side of the room on the small computer screen anymore, and she didn't understand why her thoughts were so easily accessible.

She didn't have thoughts. She had calculations and estimates and rational decisions, but she never had simple thoughts. Yet there she was, thinking about how no one was coming for her, how her serum had been neutralized due to the mist that Bruce had been developing—she should have realized it sooner, but her serum was too focused on keeping a hold that it refused to acknowledge itself slipping away—and how she was no longer as indispensable as she thought.

"How are you feeling today?" Bruce asked softly when he entered the room, as he always did, and he froze in his tracks when he found her sitting on the floor, looking up at him with wide, fearful eyes, "Are you alright?"

She swallowed thickly and, for the first time, gave him a response. She shook her head minutely, pausing immediately after. Then she shook her head again, shocked that she had at all. She began to continuously shake her head, growing more and more earnest and frantic as time went on, and then Bruce was calling for her to stop.

"You'll hurt yourself," he said, and she stopped, because he told her what to do, and now she had no one to answer to, and her head was hurting, and she could feel her breath begin to shorten.

"Hey," he said softly, catching her attention, "Can you sit on the chair? Sit on the chair and put your head between your knees and take deep breaths. You're having a panic attack, you need to calm down."

She rose on shaky feet, not even thinking as she listened to him, stumbling and falling into the chair, throwing her head violently between her knees, unsure of how to even move now that she had more control, and Bruce made a pained sound as he watched.

"Okay, just-just breathe with me, okay?" he said, and if she had her serum, she would realize he was panicked—she knew the sound well—but with everything changed, all she could do was listen to him and do as he said.

With or without the full effects of the serum, she was still following orders.

She followed as he took deep breaths, struggling to relax as her mind began to spin, memories and thoughts coming over her in waves, too quick for her to even catch, only one sticking with her long enough for her to truly realize and remember, others just waiting for her to catch them.

"Okay," Bruce finally said, and it was then she realized that her mind was more clear, ready and waiting for what happened next. She was still shaken, but she wasn't hysterical.

She had never been hysterical before. She hated it.

"Okay," he repeated, moving to sit across from her, "Okay. I don't really know what I did, but I flooded all the toxins and drugs from your system, and they're still being flushed out, but you're experiencing a detox. I don't know what happened last night, was that your body having withdrawals?"

She shook her head before she could help herself; she had experienced the pain before she had been captured, it was what had her caught in the first place.

Bruce clicked his tongue. "Okay. Well, now that you're cooperating...can I ask you your name?"

She took a deep breath, opening her mouth as she tried to respond; she hardly ever spoke. "I don't have a name."

He looked surprised. "You don't have a name?"

She shook her head; he didn't need to know her codename, it was only used by her masters, no one else. She stared at him, wondering what he would do next, and he seemed to be wondering the same thing.

"What were you doing in the vents?" he asked, and she shut down, schooling her features and clenching her jaw, relaxing her entire body until she could pass as dead.

"Okay, we can go back to that," he sighed, rubbing his face, "Ah...look, you really need to cooperate with me. We're the only ones in the building right now, and we're on lockdown until I determine you safe, and I don't know what's happening with you, but you need to tell me."

She didn't even know what was happening with her. All she knew was that she was sent in the building without any proper knowledge and made to finish a job in a week despite being given longer, and no one had gone in to find her.

Even if this place was on lockdown, they would have found a way in, she had broken into the Pentagon at some point; she didn't know when, but she had. In less than four days.

Then she remembered the training. She remembered the new project that had done her reconnaissance, the new project that had been training alongside her in the training room, the one she had blocked from her mind.

They were younger. Faster. More agile and swift. She might have been the peak of their experimentation, but many believed their actions in the past had been the peak, never trying to reach into the future for one even higher.

She was expendable. Full stop.

She put her head between her knees as she struggled to breathe, feeling her breath coming out in gasps, and she was sure she was having another panic attack, only this time there was something coming out of her eyes.

Tears.

She was crying. She never cried. She could feel her chest tightening, but, more than that, she felt her heart twisting. She was sad. She was never sad. 

She gagged, gasping for breath as she sat up. She was still struggling to breathe, but she didn't understand what she was feeling, why she was crying, nothing made sense anymore, she wasn't herself, this wasn't her, this person had been locked away for longer than she could even count to.

Bruce stood, coming to stand right in front of the glass. "Why did you come here?"

She stared up at him helplessly, tears running down her cheeks, her throat hoarse from screaming and lack of use, breathing still ragged and uneven.

"I was sent to kill you."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I don't think I really stuck the landing the way I wanted to with this, but you know what, I'm gonna fix it up next chapter because not everything has to happen all at once, and we're gonna get more consistent updates with this, it was just hard to get back into the groove.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!