Not Anymore

Chapter 3: Scan To Find The Price [I Think Peter's POV]

I found an apartment that I could live in. It's small, dirty, and clearly not kept well, but it's the cheapest one that I could find in this surrounding area. And clearly anything beats the alleyway that I've been sleeping in for the past week and a half. I will need to start raising money so I can live there.

It's been getting harder to find food and it's been raining non stop for the past two days so living outside isn't as pleasant. The rain was a splendid present, though. I have never experienced rain before. Our missions have always been in terrible condition, but I've never truly experienced the rain, if that makes sense. And the rest of the time I was locked in a cell underground. No rain down there.

My body is filled with grime and I was itching for a bath, even the ones that Hydra gives, which was only them hosing you down every third day. The rain had started to fall and I slowly uncurled my clenched fingers that I kept close to my chest to preserve warmth and feel the droplets trickle over my skin. Slowly, one by one, droplets fell on my fingers and rolled down the palms of my hand. It was cold, but refreshing and exciting, making me stand up from my curled position on the ground and lift my nose up to the air, catching the rain droplets on my cheeks and eyes. My hair quickly became damp and my dirty and worn clothes soaked and stuck to my skin. A laugh bubbled up inside my throat and escaped itself, the sound being almost foreign but sweet.

I have no chances for laughter while in Hydra. I may be poor, homeless, starving, and pathetic in many different ways right now, but I have the rain. The rain which gives me laugher. That's more than what Hydra could provide. I remember the man talking to me about the rain.

"Tell me about the outside again," I begged the man. I can't remember his name or what he looked like. I remember him telling me a name or a code word. He told me to safe guard it with me. We both get wiped frequently, leaving us in pain and without memory of who and where we are. He told me to keep that name with me because special people have names. He called me a name too. He was the first one to teach me that I was human. That I was a person and I deserved so much more.

I have failed him. I forgot his name and what he looked like. After he left, Hydra was so angry and made it almost impossible for me to leave. I had to be chained constantly and was put in a different cell with constant supervision. I was also wiped more frequently and soon, his memory disappeared like a dream once you wake up.

"I know it sounds crazy, but what I miss the most is the rain. Most people hate it. It makes them sick and cold afterward. But I love it. It's so soft and refreshing and I love to just sit outside and listen to it fall to the ground and hit the roof. The sound of rain is amazing."

"That sounds beautiful," I whispered back.

"When I get us out of here, both of us are going to go in the rain," he told me. He promised me.

I'm still waiting on that promise.

Is he even still alive? If he is, would he even remember me? What to see me? What to keep on that promise?

I finished enjoying the rain and sat back down in my corner of the streets. Richer people were running around frantically, trying to find a cab and opening their umbrella and quickening their pace so they could get to shelter faster. A few people were kind, seeing a young child like me on the streets. I won myself a 10 dollar bill from this sweet old lady.

Sitting on the ground, I had nothing to do but stare at my left hand. The barcode was just sitting there, a string of numbers and letters, S-20, just sitting right below it. The soldiers in Hydra used to play a game.

"You want to know how much you're worth, S-20?" they would ask, cackling as I rolled on the ground, clenching my teeth and curling my lips inward to not let the groan escape from my mouth. They enjoyed beating me as a punishment. A punch in the stomach and a kick to the ribs. I was nothing to them. They would beat me till I was on the ground, close to tears. I can't make a sound, though, because that's what they teach.

One of the men grabbed my left hand and yanked it up. He pretended to scan the barcode on my hand.

"Ah! $0.00! Absolutely nothing. You're nothing, you worthless thing. An experiment. That's all you are. Pathetic," he sneered, lifting up his leg only to bring down the heavy boot on my face, breaking my nose.

I hated that barcode. I am a person now. I will try and try and will force myself to remember the nice man that helped me and the name he gave me. Till then, I must get rid of the barcode. I am a human.

I pulled out the knife that I kept safely strapped to my thigh. I tried cutting it off, but the skin just stitched back together right before my eyes because of my enhanced healing. I then stole a lighter and lit the fire right below my wrist. The pain was making me squirm, but I held still, keeping the fire there and watching the skin around it burn. An ugly red scar emerged, but the barcode was hidden. I was now a person.

Persons have names.

I walked around, trying to find names. I looked at the street signs, but those names seemed funny and not one for new people. I picked up a newspaper.

ANOTHER YEAR PASSED AND THE SON OF TONY STARK AND PEPPER POTTS, PETER STARK, HAS STILL NOT BEEN FOUND.

Poor child and poor Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. The article said that the boy had been kidnapped when he was only two years old. I have heard of Pepper and Tony during my time in Hydra. They told me that those people were bad, that they did horrible things to each other and to the world. I was taught to hate them. But now, I escaped Hydra and, if Hydra was the real bad people, then Tony and Pepper must be good.

I feel bad for them, they lost their son. Good people should have good children. Peter Stark.

Peter.

That's a nice name. I will be Peter, I think.