Guess who's back? Sorry to all those who've been waiting for updates, life got in the way. But I'm back now. This story is an AU of Steel Meets Iron, with my OC much older and in Hydra. It's a different story with a different Raven. So it's not a proper AU in my opinion since you get two totally different stories, with two different Ravens. I just really wanted to write about Raven some more, because I've grown to love her so much.

As always, let me know what you think, and I'll update if you like it.

Chapter 1

There was never a time Raven wasn't used to the taste of blood in her mouth. Although this time it felt different, thicker and suffocating. It bellied in her mouth making it hard to breathe. She turned herself on her side, letting the blood pour out of her mouth. As she caught her breath her mind took notes of her surroundings, the blow had made her fuzzy for a moment. She smelt smoke in the distance and faintly saw flames stretching from the visible shambles. Did I do that? She thought groggily.

Despite the lack of a base, sirens were screaming from somewhere. She heard it before, something other than her little tantrum was going on. If only she could get up and see what it was, if it might hurt her. But her body wouldn't move, it was heavy and aching everywhere. Breathing alone stung her lungs and strangled her chest. The sensation of pain crossed out the thought of paralysis, which was the best news right now. The last thing she remembered was jumping off a ledge of some sort. And as much as she wanted to lie down until she was stronger, she had to move. Anywhere within earshot of the sirens meant danger.

Raven fought to roll from her side to settle herself to her stomach. On her stomach she could at least begin crawling, it was a start. She could hide and plan her next move – A bolt of pain shot up from her leg when she turned over. Making her flip off her stomach, to her opposite side. Raven looked down to see her right leg was bleeding from somewhere. Her pant leg was soaked in blood around the shin area. She felt the pain down to her toes yet attempting to wiggle her toes wrought more agony, causing her to softly cry out. I broke my leg, she thought gasping, I broke it when I fell. Running was out of the question now, not with a broken leg. She couldn't tell the extent of the damage, but she knew it was bad. Resting on her forearms she wracked her brain for solutions.

Although her leg was messed – it didn't mean her entire plan was scrapped. With all this debris around her, she should be able to make a splint, and there was her duffel bag. She had it slung over her shoulder when she jumped, but now it was gone. She remembered holding it tight until she lost consciousness, so it had to be around here somewhere. It protected her upper body to a degree, which probably resulted in her leg taking the brunt of the damage. But how bad was it? Fueled by a vague kindling of adrenaline she reached down and ripped the bloody patch open, and cursed heavily at her luck. Other than the obvious swelling of a fracture, bone had cut through her shin. Just looking at it made her sick and twice as weak.

"An open fracture," she hissed. "Great, just great."

Sitting up she turned her head left to right, she pushed herself up on her palms. Looking around for her black duffel bag. With her legs splayed out like scissors, and not stacked on top of each other, made the pain easier to bare. Sitting still was not an option to settle with, she had to get her duffel bag and think of a plan to survive. It took several aching twists but among the rubble she saw it. A few meters from her, heading away from the destruction was her duffel with its Super Mario mushroom keychain. The sight of her vibrant keychain made her smile, filling her with a burst of optimistic energy.

Digging her nails into the dirt she dragged her battered body along the ground. Letting the left side of her body take the pain; her leg, hip and waist. With each tug she made sure not to jerk her leg unnecessarily. Pulling it alone made her bite into her bottom lip as shudders of pains traveling through her body. Keeping her neck stretched upward she focused on her prize. It had in everything; her medicine, her memories and stuff Hydra would destroy hundreds of lives for. Her survival depended on that bag. With it she would always have the upper hand on Hydra, be one step ahead. Which was more than crucial now, after how stupid she'd been. There was nothing life could throw at her, her bag of tricks didn't have a solution. Without she was helpless and at the mercy of those stronger than her. And her hand was a hair above it when her prediction came true.

"Easy." A voice ordered. "Easy, kid. No one's gonna hurt you if you play nice."

Haven't I been through enough? Lowering her hand to the ground, she turned toward her voice. She knew him but like most of the world he had no clue about her. A part of her wanted to laugh at her equal luck and misfortune. The stern faced man aimed an arrow at her, not at her head, which was very gentlemanly of him. She saw him on tv and security monitors, knew him through author-like notes. If she had her bag she might have had a fighting chance – oh, and if her leg was broken. But for once in her life, Raven felt too tired to fight back. If this man killed her, by accident or shortcomings, she'd gladly rest in peace. Yet a part of her – eternally curious – wondered what could happen next if he helped her.

Hawkeye/Clint Barton, part-time Avenger and Shield Agent, kept his eyes fixated on her while he whispered to into an ear piece. Were the other Avengers here too? As he made reports Raven listened for any of their telltale sound effects. Whooshing, metal whistling, pew pews, roars and so on, but their was only shouting and gunfire. So it was just Shield. Just as bad, she thought as she coughed up spatters of blood.

"She's hurt," she heard him say. "... Pretty bad. Burn on her right shoulder, bleeding from the right leg – I think it's broken, coughing up blood, face messed up to hell."

A burn? When did I - "Ah," she murmured. Her eye lazily spotted a nasty burn on her shoulder. The right side of her body was just not having a good day today. The burn was nothing life threatening, a second degree burn. Now looking at it she keyed on the specific pain coming from it. When the hell did I get that? Her short term memory was missing parts. I hit my head, she realized. Not good.

"Hang on a sec – You don't feel that?" He demanded incredulously.

"I don't remember it," she wheezed. "Everywhere hurts."

Hawkeye blinked at her, believing her and put away his arrow. Wary as though approaching a wounded tiger he knelt to get closer to her eye level. "What happened here?"

It would be very easy to lie but Raven knew the truth would catch up to her faster than she could heal. So she settled for the truth, suppressing the urge to smile. "I did."

"What?" He gaped. "Say that again."

Taking an agonizing breath she repeated herself. "I did." It hard to speak, her voice sounded strange and grated to her ears.

He gestured to the disaster around them. "All of this? You did that." She nodded. "Why? What did Hydra do to you?"

Raven had to smile now. She genuinely saw her reason as comedy gold. "They refused to accept my resignation."

That he heard quite clear. "Natasha?... I need you come over here and bring a medic."

The kid was in worse shape than he thought. The words battered and bruised were understatements. The medics said she should have lost consciousness on the flight to New York but for over eight hours she was fully awake. Right shoulder burnt, right shin broken with bone projecting out her skin and a black and blue face. Even Natasha found it strange how she stared blankly at the roof of the jet. Only moving her eyes at sudden movements like a reptile in a terrarium. She drummed her fingers against the gurney they strapped her into, but not in boredom. She tapped out every notable broadway number and a few tunes he didn't know. Some of the guys were trying to guess them without asking her. Other than that no one felt like talking to the kid who confessed to blowing up a Hydra base. Along with all the jets, weapons and invaluable computers.

"Is she... like you? A super spy?" He asked her once the medics took her to the sick bay.

They didn't take her to the Avengers Base. No one knew what to do with her yet. If she was some lunatic, ready to kill everyone in sight. Or some trojan horse waiting to get into their main base. The only option they had was to take to one of Fury's secret bunkers nearby. Several agents who got off at the main base were ordered to keep quiet. Fury's little cubbyhole was the only thing they had to place enhanced people. If this girl was enhanced was not, was yet to be said. If this was an elaborate, desperate ruse of Hydra's, they wanted her far away from the main base as they could take her. There had been no children spies for decades. If she was a part of that retired regime, what was worse than an enhanced, unstable teenager.

"I don't know. What she did, doesn't had up to a spy. Blowing up a base, wounding hundreds, killing ten people. That we know of. Sounds more like the work of a crazed enhanced person. But she's entirely calm, not a flutter in her pulse." Natasha folded her arms. "She's either a sociopath or someone who's been through hell."

"I don't like either of those options – Aw hell."

"What?"

Natasha turned toward Clint. With Ultron fresh in their minds it was hard to take anything as routine strangeness. They saw too many inexplicable things since they became Avengers. To think it was happening all over again in the form of a teenage girl had Natasha on high alert. Hearing Clint exclaim in mid-sentence made her think he knew something about this girl that abruptly clicked from something she said.

"Did you catch her name?" He snapped his fingers in frustration. "We should have asked her name. It's going to make talking to her really awkward."

The girl wasn't much, as a physical threat. She was a scrawny thing, bent and broken from her beating or the lack of weight around her bones. Messy mousy hair, that fell flat once they washed the blood and grime away. The medics said she had a list of injuries, injuries that she should've passed out from. Hairline fractures on her ribs, blood in her stomach, a knocked out wisdom tooth (which she admitted, she might have swallowed), and a minor concussion with a matching hairline skull fracture. Plus they suspected, from her bodily appearance alone, she had been starved somewhat and dehydrated.

On the surface she wasn't much better. Two black eyes that made her eye area look like two animated sunken holes, a split, chewed up lip and bruised cheeks. Not to mention the yellow colored bruises along her ribcage and upper back. Her back had an old wound on it, but it was disturbing enough they had to record it. On her back were healed, reddish scars, from suspected chemicals burns. They spread out like a hideous frozen firework pattern. Hinting that Hydra may have been abusing her, which created more questions to be answered.

Nick Fury couldn't help feeling a sense of familiarity when he looked at her. Or noticing the fact she knew his face. He took in the black and blue teenager staring blankly at the ceiling, drumming her fingers against her thigh. When Natasha told him about her, he was at a loss. Logic told him to bring her here to keep her out of sight until they had a plan. If the Avengers and the Shield agents who followed them found out about her there were two outcomes. One, she would be imprisoned and rehabilitated. Two, they would recruit her to join Shield/the Avengers. Seeing her now made him thankful he kept this discovery a secret. Something about her was more than it seemed. And since she wasn't resting he might as well talk to her. While he had some privacy with her.

She watched him as he entered, underwhelmed from his presence. It was either a mistake on her part or a sign to lock her away and toss the key. It was when he came to her side he knew where he saw before. Around her neck was a necklace sporting a cluster of pendants, like charms. Three of them he recognized; a silver oval locket, a silver cross and a white gold horseshoe. Stunned he looked at her and saw another distinguishable feature. Her face was covered in freckles. Across her nose, cheeks, spreading down her neck, collar and shoulders exposed by her oversized dressing gown. Despite how she'd grown, he never forgot a face.

"You..." He was reeling. "We've met before."

He had seen her seven years ago, in Shield's old HQ before Washington. Held by the hand of Alexander Pierce. In a blue little dress and her clunky necklace bouncing on her chest, trying not to stare at his eye patch. She had the same freckles which made the secretaries fawn over her. And now she was in a Shield again, as a prisoner, banged up like she was thrown into a cage match.

"You weren't Pierce's goddaughter," he stated heavily. "You were a spy." She was like Natasha. This wasn't good at all.

But the girl did a very un-Romanoff thing, she rolled her bruised eyes. Letting out a pained wheeze she pushed herself upright from her current slouch. "That's what everyone likes to hear." Her hoarse Irish accent surprised him. He didn't remember that. Now that he thought about it, he never heard her speak all those years ago, now he knew why. But she told anyways. "Sorry. I couldn't fake an American accent back then. Told you I was super bashful didn't he?"

"Who are you?" Fury asked her.

"Nobody important." She gripped her necklace with a sad smile. "Just a handful of trinkets."

Fury leaned over the bed rails, glaring her down. "You do realize where you are? If you got anything to say. In your defense or otherwise. Now is the time to give me straight answers."

The girl wasn't rattled. His warning was reassuring, like a comfort. "Just kill me and get it over and done with – If that's what you're going to do." She coughed, "I mean, that's what is, isn't it? Especially in a tiny, dank place like this? Offer my services or I'll never see the light of day again. Well do me favor and put a bullet in my head, and toss me where no one can dig me up. There's your answer."

Fury wasn't expecting that. She's not like Romanoff, she would have never surrendered like this. This little girl wasn't a spy. It should have been comforting, all it did was raise more questions. What did Hydra do to her? Who was she? Why was she ready to die? Why did she think Shield would sanction an execution? Gently as he possible, he asked,

"What's your name?"

Annoyed, she mumbled, "Does it really matter anymore?" And didn't say another word.