{TW: TORTURE}

A rusty and drafty shack lay in the middle of a scrapyard, and screams could be heard echoing through the rows and rows of various metals, the shrieks bouncing off every which way.

A small girl, who looked to be no older then seven, was strapped to a cold metal table, her legs bound by leather bands, her arms chained above her. Tears streamed down her face, leaving a damp trail behind.

A pain like no other circulated through her body, twisted fire filling her vision. Her body was covered in scrapes, bruises, and scars. For some children, this sight wasn't unusual, a result of summers climbing trees and scaling roofs, but for this particular young girl, these scars were result of something much worse.

A needle was forced into her arm, the long metal stake drawing some blood as it sunk in.

All she caught a glimpse of before the world went black was the sick, twisted smile that lay on her mother's lips.

"Don't worry darling, it's all for the best." The dark haired woman spoke to the unconscious girl that lay curled up on the table.

"You'll thank me someday."

The woman smiled sinisterly and looked very pleased with herself.

That is, until a siren sounded in the distance. The older woman scrambled to grab her equipment, her tools, and her precious lab experiment. Her own daughter.

But it was too late. She had hesitated a second too long, and that one second led to her downfall.

Thirty-seven guns were trained on the house, if you could even call it that.

It was eerily silent in the abandoned junkyard, no one dared move a muscle.

The woman looked around, grabbed her revolver and bust the door open, killing several police officers at once.

The Sargent climbed over piles of metal, her officers following in pursuit of their target.

As they followed her across the junkyard where they would inevitably lose her, they had forgotten to look at what she had left behind in that shitty junk pile she used as a laboratory.

The small, seven year old girl was still laid out on the table, her hair covering her face, hiding the deep gash that was carved into her right cheek.

As soon as the police officers were out of sight, a red haired woman entered the shack, unnoticed by the law enforcement authorities.

An unknown branch of the government, known as the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Divsion, had been keeping an eye on this case for months.

The authorities that worked in what was known as S.H.I.E.L.D. knew that the local

police department couldn't do anything but scratch the surface, for they didn't know what was really going on.

All local law enforcement knew was that the criminal in question had stolen large amounts of money from the U.S. banks and was carrying loads of stolen goods. To them, she was merely a second class criminal.

What they didn't know, was what she was doing with her time. Olivia Anelace, the criminal in question, was under a false delusion that if someone went through enough pain, it would automatically make them stronger, more powerful. She believed that if she hurt her daughter enough, she could turn her into a weapon, fueled with enough strength to stop anyone and anything.

It was much more serious than anyone other than S.H.I.E.L.D. realized.

Natasha Romanoff had been assigned to this specific case, and she was the red-haired woman who climbed over piles of metal to go save the small girl curled up inside.

After some searching, Natasha found the child in question strapped to a makeshift surgery table, which was fallen on its side, keeping the girl tethered tight to the surface.

Agent Romanoff hesitated for a second, the sight in front of her reminding her eerily of her own experiences.

A young girl strapped to an operating table was not something new to her.

Natasha shook off her shock and continued with what she was here to do. She unstrapped the little girl from her position and picked her up in her arms, feeling her faint heartbeat sound underneath the sedation.

She was never meant to get attached to any of her assignments, never meant to care about the fate of anyone she saved, but this little girl had only been with Natasha for about five minutes, and yet she felt as if she was the only one here to care for her.

Nat was all she had.

The girl squirmed a bit, not fully conscious just yet, but waking up from sedation.

"Don't worry, darling. You're safe, I promise." Natasha murmured, not sure if the small child could hear her, but she meant it nonetheless.

The girl began to whine, her senses waking up and the pain in her body coming back again.

Natasha hadn't had much experience with kids, and she didn't know what to do. All she knew was that the girl was in pain, and she needed to distract her.

"Wise men say,

only fools rush in.

But I can't help,

falling in love with you.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin?

If I can't help,

falling in love,

with you."

Natasha sang softly, repeating the words that she sung to herself whenever she got sad. By the time she reached the second verse, the girl was fast asleep, snoring contently on Agent Romanoff's shoulder.

"Good work, agent." Nick Fury's gruff voice sounded from her comms, making her stop. "Bring her back to base, she'll be placed in an orphanage next Monday, but for now, we'll have to keep an eye on her. Her mother escaped, and she'll be looking for her."

Natasha held her breath for a moment before saying something that would surely get her removed from her position. "Sir, with all due respect, I don't think that we should send her off to an orphanage. If her mother is as crazy as we think she is, the only safe place for this little girl will be with us."

"And where do you expect we can keep a child?" He asked sharply.

"I'll watch her. I bet she'll be very useful as an agent one day, and I'm very willing to help her get there."

The comms crackled with dead air.

"Fine. But only if you bring me some pizza. I miss Chicago pizza." His voice turned to a whine at the end of his phrase.

"I'll be right on it, Fury."

The corners of her lips turned up as she looked

at the small child.

"I'll always keep you safe, Dahlia Anelace. As long as I live, and then some."