Prologue

It had all began with the death of one Christof Esterhazy. The senior officer of Hydra had recently suffered a fatal cardiac arrest in his lovely home in the Swiss Alps at the unbelievably ripe old age of 103. He had lived a long and fulfilling life off the grid, his family never knowing of his ties to the militant group of Nazi-fascists until he began to lose his mind in his old age. Shaky scribbles in the back of his worn journal revealed much that S.H.E.I.L.D. had already known about Hydra. But there was one partial sentence tucked in the middle of his mindless ramblings that they had not known. That they did not expect.

He had called it the 'Sterne des todes', or rather, The Star of Death. The partial sentence had merely lamented that they had 'lost the great weapon when...'

And that little anecdote cross referenced with an intercepted report from 1973 that had never made sense before, had launched a full-scale investigation that culminated into the team systematically moving through the hidden soviet base searching for clues of this fabled weapon. It was likely no connection existed between the two pieces of intel, but they were never ones to deal in the realm of assumptions.

CHAPTER ONE

Steve Rogers slipped down the lonely passage, haunting the stone wall. The air was dank and acrid this deep below the earth, the taste foul on the back of his tongue. From his ear bud he listened to the whispered 'all clears' from the various agents as they moved systematically through the labyrinth of underground tunnels and bunkers.

Romanoff's velvety voice announced that level 15 had been fully cleared. Steve bit back a smirk at the hint of annoyance that flavored her tone sour. It was no secret… none of them wanted to be there. A few random scratchings in the journal of a madman should not have elicited this thorough of an investigation. But Fury was nothing if not vigilant, and he had ordered that any and every lead be checked out. And thus, they found themselves deep below the Prokletije Mountain range in a long untouched Sigurimi base in Albania.

A forgotten remnant of the soviet government, the bunker had headquartered its most radical sect. Steve had burned with anger when he happened upon a holding room untouched since presumably the late 70's. Metal torture instruments hung forgotten upon the wall, rusted and dulled by time and disuse, yet they served as a stark reminder of the wicked ways of desperate men. His troubled eyes had taken in the lonely metal table in the middle of the room, idly wondering how many had died upon it.

No, he certainly didn't want to be there. He really didn't even need to be there. An abandoned base was hardly a hot zone for hostile activity, but Fury had asked that he go. It was a request by his Director, and like good soldiers are want to do, he obeyed. A small part of him knew Fury's true purpose. On the off chance they actually did find something, his commander knew he'd want to be there.

Steve swiftly continued on down the corridor. The sooner this last and deepest level was cleared, the sooner they could all go home. He longed for sweet air, and light. It was unnerving being this far below the earth, like being swallowed whole. It didn't help that the techy glasses Stark had given him cast everything in an eerie green tint. Still, he found the fact that he could see so well in the pitch dark rather impressive. Most of Stark's toys were quite extraordinary. Howard's son certainly shared his aptitude for ingenious creation. He could only wonder if the technology they had now, existed back during the war, if everything about his life might have turned out differently. He brushed the thought off like lint, unwilling to be dragged down into the dark murky muck of memories during a mission. A long year had passed since awakening and he had worked hard to come to grips with his new role in this foreign world. He had mourned and grieved to the point of exhaustion, and now, all that remained were the hot embers of a deeply suppressed anger. They lay just shy of dormant in the very bottom of his chasm like heart.

Rounding the corner, his eyes fell on an iron door at the end of a lonely hallway. It was the only door he had come across on the entire level, and for some reason the hair on the back of his neck stood up as he neared it.

Drawing closer, he realized it had no handle, no lock, and no hinges. Not so much a door as a metal wall, completely incasing whatever lay beyond, inside. A feeling of foreboding prickled down his spine. Perhaps this wouldn't be a fruitless errand after all.

"I need Unit 7 down on 16, there's some sort of metal barrier in the north corridor," Steve requested in his com.

"Copy that."

A few moments later, Unit 7 was working on cutting away the thick metal wall with the practiced precision of a well-seasoned team. Once the square outline had been cut, Steve gave a swift kick to the center and the metal cut out clattered to the stone floor behind.

Stooping low, Steve ducked through the hole in the wall, the severed edges of the metal still smoldering. Beyond the casing, the hall continued until it ended in another metal door, which stood out as a lighter shade of green against the dark stone. Making his way to it, he wasn't surprised to find it locked. In an upwards jerk, Steve hoisted the heavy door from its hinges and pushed it aside enough to slip past.

Peering into the room he realized he was in a small holding cell with nothing but a simple cot. The moment his eyes landed on the cot, the breath was ripped from his lungs as they took in the site of a dead body curled in the fetal position. His heart began to pound at the shock as he drew closer toward the bed. The green tint cast everything in distorted and ghastly shades, and the renewed sense of foreboding sat heavy on his chest, constricting his lungs.

"Steve, everything alright?" he heard Agent Hill from command in his ear. She would have noticed the spike in his heart rate on her monitor. He made no answer as he edged closer to the body. He felt an acute uneasiness, and it took a few moments for his mind to realize why. Everything was wrong.

Instead of a skeleton, he soon realized pale skin was stretched over the bones, and a mop of filthy light colored hair covered the skull. Steve pulled out the LED puck light from his belt and switched it on. The room was instantly illuminated in a crisp blinding electric light, and the glasses automatically adjusted to clear. Steve wasn't quite sure what he was looking at.

The body hadn't decomposed. In the clear light, he saw that the dirty hair was blonde, the baggy shift dress covering the skeleton was brown, and the skin stretched so thinly across the bones was nearly a translucent white. The body's back was to him, and he shuddered as he reached out to pull it onto it's back. His mind flooded with grotesque images of whey he might see.

He swallowed hard, and pulled on the shoulder until the body slumped unceremoniously onto its back. Steve jumped back slightly and cursed himself for his raw nerves as they sent a staggering shudder through him.

It was a woman.

Much like the arms and legs exposed, the skin on her face was stretched thin over her skull. He'd never forget the deep hollows that caused her cheekbones to jut from her face, or the thin shrivled lips pursed over her closed mouth. Her eyes were shut, and long lashes nearly covered the deep purple rings under her eyes. Steve was just about to request the med team when his heart stopped.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Steve could hear nothing but the rush of blood in his own ears as his heart exploded in irrational fear.

She just stared at him. Her eyes too focused to suggest that she was dead. He noticed now the minimal rise of her chest as she took small shallow breaths. She was very much alive.

"I need a med team down here, now!" Steve barked into his com as he instantly stepped forward towards the woman ignoring her horrifying state of complete emaciation as honed instinct took over.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you all right? Can you understand me?" Steve asked gently, as he slowly kneeled down beside her. Her eyes followed his motions, but he noticed that she seemed to have neither the strength nor the will to turn her head towards him. Her clear eyes appeared cognizant of him, and this was confirmed as one single tear pooled and slipped out of the corner of her eye. It trailed across the hollow of her cheek before dropping into her matted hair. Her eyes glittered in what could only be described as long suffering relief and Steve's heart clenched. How long had she been down here? "Ma'am, I'm going to get you out of here, you're safe now," Steve promised, looking into her cloudy gray-mint green eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, he reached out and gently scooped her into his arms, careful to cradle her head. She couldn't have weighed more than 40 pounds. He held her like she was an eggshell, and gently moved towards the door taking the utmost care not to jar her. He would have to hand her through the hole in the wall carefully.

And then it happened all at once.

The sleeve of his uniform pulled up as he tried to adjust her in his arms, and as his skin connected with the skin of her leg it was as if time suddenly stopped. She instantly felt so heavy in his arms that he buckled under the crushing weight, dropping them both to the floor as if they were being pulled under water. Unsure of what was happening, he tried his best to roll back so that he wouldn't crush her as they fell. His heart seemed to slow, and the pounding in his ear lessened to a sporadic, unnatural beat. The exponential weight was becoming too much, and his brain and heart both felt like they were imploding. He sucked in a long staggering breath trying to access the situation, when all at once, it stopped.

He found himself on his knees, and looked down to make sure the woman was alright. What his eyes found as they glanced at her caused his blood to run cold.

She was changing.

Right before his eyes, he watched, as the deathly pale skin seemed to thicken. The hollows filled in, her lips slowly plumped and reddened into a deep pink hue. The dark circles under her eyes faded to reveal flawless porcelain skin of ideal youth. The apples of her cheeks took on a rosy color as if they'd seen sun. He watched as her arms and legs seemed to fill out slightly, muscle growing upon the bones. He looked back into her eyes, which were focused on nothing but him. She didn't seem to even notice the changes in her body.

"Steve?" He heard Tony's voice in his ear, it was thick with trepidation. Suddenly, Steve remembered that his glasses transmitted all that he saw back to the screens in command.

"Please tell me you're seeing this…" Steve breathed as he continued to stare into the mercury, sea glass eyes of the young woman in his arms.

"Captain," It was Fury in his ear now, "Put it down… and step away," his director spoke slowly, his voice laden with equal measures alarm and authority. Steve was about to do exactly that, when he felt her cautiously shift in his arms. She gently and slowly untangled her self from him, and scooted away to the corner until her back met with the rough of the stonewall. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she hid behind them, peering at him over her knobby kneecaps anxiously. Their eyes collided and an eternity passed. Steve was too shocked to realize that he didn't have the strength to get up.

Suddenly, the door was blown aside, and three agents in black combat regalia burst into the room. Two trained their weapons on the woman, and the third jerked the stunned and thoroughly weakened Captain to his feet. The girl buried her face into the apex of her knees and braced herself for the shot that wouldn't come.

To Be Cont.

A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!