Trust Me (Steve Rogers Fanfiction)

Chapter 3

I groan as I open my eyes. Did he seriously electrocute me? I make to get up, but I can't. I'm strapped to a chair in this white, sterile room. A lab, I realize with panic. They've got me. And it feels just like before.

"Help!" I scream, struggling against my metal bonds. The chair rocks back and forth, but I can't escape. "Let me out, please!"

"You're perfectly safe here," a man says, stepping into view. He's wearing a lab coat, and he stares at me curiously. His eyes sweep up and down my body, and my insides crawl.

"Who are you?" I ask. If I was free, I could easily take him, but they've restrained me too well. I'm at this man's mercy. Mercy. What a terrifying word.

"My name is Doctor Derrick Andrews," he answers. "Though I suppose I should be asking you the same question." He laughs, but it isn't funny, even to him. The light doesn't reach his eyes.

"Why would I tell you? Don't you already know?"

"I know bits and pieces. Why don't I tell you those, and you can fill in the blanks." He presses a button, and holographic screens appear in front of him. "America Evans. Age twenty-six, moved to New York two years ago."

"That's right," I say shortly.

"Those are all lies," he sneers. "There's no record of a name for you anywhere. No birth certificate. Here's what SHIELD has uncovered." He swipes, and blurry images begin to fill the screens. Action photos of me in a black uniform, gun in my hand, murder in my eyes. My breath hitches in my throat. I don't even remember all of these. "Born somewhere near Russia. Hydra operative for several years. Known as the Night Wind. Your victims died before they saw you coming." He grins menacingly. "We've been looking for you for a long time, miss."

"That wasn't me!" I say automatically. "I mean, it was, but it wasn't."

"We'll discuss that later. I have been tasked with understanding your abilities and you yourself. I have been given full reign to do so." He holds up a syringe. "Shall we start?"

Fear instantly sets in. I've had a phobia of needles for years. "Please, don't do anything to me, please-"

He plunges the syringe into my shoulder. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, excruciating pain fills me. I try to resist it, but I can't. I scream.

The doctor watches a screen with mild interest, an expression of someone who found something fascinating in a newspaper. "You're a super soldier, aren't you?" He asks carefully.

"What makes you think that?" I say through gritted teeth.

"That would have caused a normal human pass out within seconds. Your endurance and stamina levels are off the charts."

"Call me flattered," I snap, resisting the urge to scream again. It's like my veins are on fire. "You're despicable!" He gets up and runs a hand down the side of my cheek, a sly smile on his ugly face. I flinch away, but there's nowhere to go.

"Listen, gorgeous: you will cooperate with me or there will be consequences."

"Get away from me," I say bravely, though I don't feel it.

"Gladly. I'll run some other tests instead." He retreats to his seat and presses some buttons. This time, my legs twinge with pain. A memory comes back as he experiments on me some more.

"You made a mistake," my supervisor snapped, paving the dark room. "We don't have room for mistakes here. We don't tolerate ineptness." I glanced at the man across from me, my best friend. He seemed equally as upset as me.