"Interesting?"
"You've integrated well with the team, yes," Glueck acknowledged, "but socially, you're in a bubble. You wake up here, train here, eat here, sleep here. There's no exposure to the outside world, no interaction with people beyond this... facility."
Steve's jaw tightened. "She's safe here."
You felt rather than saw his posture stiffen behind you, making your own muscles tense in response. The bond that had formed between you and the team—forged in missions and late-night strategy sessions—had become something visceral, something protective.
Glueck turned her sharp gaze on him. "And yet, safety isn't always conducive to recovery, is it? For an amnesiac, routine can be comforting, but it can also be limiting. If your goal is to regain your memory, then cutting yourself off from the world is counterproductive."
Tony scoffed. "Oh, right. Because shoving her into a nine-to-five, maybe a nice apartment in Brooklyn, and setting her up with a government-assigned 'support system' will magically jog her memory?"
The sarcasm in his voice was indubitable, but beneath it lay genuine concern. Your fingers curled tighter in your lap. Tony had spent countless hours helping you navigate OmniSight's complex interface, his usual flippant demeanour giving way to patience when you struggled. Each adjustment to the system came with a promise: "We'll get it right".
Glueck's lips pressed into a thin smile. "A structured reintroduction into society could do more for her than being treated like a—" she gestured vaguely, "—mission asset."
That hit a nerve.
Your heart constricted, memories flashing through your mind—Natasha nodding approvingly after you'd correctly anticipated an enemy's movements, Bruce bringing you tea during late-night analysis sessions, Clint teaching you to recognise environmental advantages in the field. More than assets. Family.
Steve's expression darkened. "She's not an asset. She's part of this team."
The conviction in his voice warmed something in you, even as anxiety chilled your veins.
"Is she?" Glueck tilted her head. "Because I've also been made aware of the neural feedback loops and data overload she's experiencing from this programme... OmniSight, is it? Headaches, disorientation, sensory fatigue. And yet, instead of addressing these issues, you've continued to deploy her in the field. If the Avengers are neglecting her well-being, if her health is being compromised for the sake of missions, then the state will have to step in."
You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers twitching under the table. You hadn't meant to get anyone in trouble; you thought you were helping with the optimisation of the programme. After all, Tony had planned on selling the programme, hadn't he? That was what the whole Cybersecurity Summit was for.
"Well, thanks for your concern, Doc," Tony said. "But you'll be happy to know that as we speak, I'm working on optimising OmniSight's lenses to fine-tune the data processing. No more headaches, no more sensory overload. So, no need for Big Brother to swoop in and start making decisions for her."
The hostility in Tony's voice made the room temperature seem to drop several degrees. You caught the subtle twitch in Dr Glueck's expression as she stood, collecting her tablet. "I'd still like an independent evaluation."
The threat gave everyone pause. An independent evaluation would mean outside access—to OmniSight, to you, to everything the team had built together. It would mean exposure to people who saw you as an anomaly first and a person second.
"I’ll be submitting my report to Secretary Ross. Expect a follow-up soon."
As Dr Glueck exited, Tony exhaled loudly. "Fantastic. Because what we really need is more government oversight. Love that for us."
Steve ran a hand down his face, then looked over at you. "Are you okay?"
You forced a small, uneasy smile. "I'm fine." A beat passed before you sighed. "Well. Mostly fine."
Tony clapped his hands together. "Alright, that settles it. I'm fixing the smart lenses tonight. You get rest, kid. Let the genius handle it."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
You stifled a yawn as you entered the conference room, having barely slept. The night had been filled with images of duffel bags and Times Square, of burning fingerprints and government facilities. By the time FRIDAY had gently announced it was time for Tony's meeting, you were almost relieved.
The team gathered around the conference table. Bruce stood beside Tony, both of them looking surprisingly alert despite what must have been an all-night engineering session. Coffee mug in hand, Tony gestured dramatically toward a sleek case on the table.
"Boys and girls, feast your eyes on the latest addition to the Stark arsenal."
He flipped open the case with a flourish, revealing six pairs of what appeared to be ordinary contact lenses. Except there was nothing ordinary about the subtle shimmer of the lenses or the nearly invisible integrated tech.
Bruce stepped forward, picking up a pair. "These bad boys are upgraded lenses, giving Y/N a crisp view of what each one of us is seeing."
"Without the nausea this time," Tony added, distributing the lenses to each team member. "Romanoff, if you'd be so kind as to demonstrate. Give us a little box jump or something."
Natasha raised an eyebrow but pushed off from the table. She slipped in the lenses like a pro, moving toward a nearby bench to perform the most effortless box step you’d ever seen.
"Y/N, how's that? How're the visuals?" Steve asked from across the room.
You activated the neural interface with a blink pattern Tony had programmed specifically for you. Immediately, a crystal-clear feed from Natasha's perspective filled your vision, but instead of the disorienting flood of data that used to accompany it, everything was neatly compartmentalised. You could see exactly what she saw, feel the subtle shifts in balance as she moved, without being overwhelmed.
You tested the video feed from different angles, switching between team members' perspectives with micro eye movements that felt surprisingly natural.
"Oh, yeah, this could work," you said, unable to keep the relief from your voice. "Much better this time around."
The difference was striking. Where before the OmniSight interface had felt like trying to drink from a fire hose—information flooding your senses until you could barely think—now it felt more like turning the pages of a book. Steady and controlled.
"The neural processing load is distributed differently," Bruce explained, gesturing toward a holographic model of the interface. "Instead of your brain handling the bulk of the synchronisation, the lenses themselves are doing most of the heavy lifting."
"And the government?" Natasha probed. "If they want an 'independent evaluation'..."
Tony's expression hardened slightly. "Let them try. The core programming is proprietary. Even if they get their hands on the hardware, the software would be just a bunch of meaningless code without the neural key. A key that only works with Y/N's unique brainwave patterns."
"So they can't replicate it," Steve concluded, looking thoughtful.
"Not without our resident mystery package," Tony confirmed, nodding toward you. "Which means they have every reason to keep you right where you are."
You felt a complex variety of emotions... Relief that the technology had been improved, pride that you were essential to its function, but also a lingering unease. Being irreplaceable made you valuable, but it also made you a target. And somewhere beneath it all was the lingering question that had haunted you since you'd been found in that duffel bag. Who had you been before all this?
Before you could dwell on it further, an alert flashed across your vision—a priority notification from S.H.I.E.L.D. The casual atmosphere in the room shifted instantly as everyone received the same message through their newly integrated lenses.
"Looks like we're skipping the training session," Steve said, already moving toward the door. "Suit up. Wheels up in ten."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Quinjet cut through the Manhattan skyline, its stealth systems engaged as you monitored the team's movements through your new lenses. The transition from receiving new tech to operating it in a live mission sans training was a testament to how far you'd come since those first disorienting days at the compound.
From your position in the Tac Ops Centre, you watched through six different perspectives simultaneously, each feed crystal clear without the familiar onset of a migraine. The improvement was remarkable.
"Mission control, fair warning..." Tony's voice came through. "All these buildings look alike. You may have to do a bit of scouring before you're able to locate us."
You smirked, already three steps ahead. With a couple of deft shortcuts and custom commands, you hacked into nearby drone footage, redirecting a food delivery drone's camera to get a better angle. Simultaneously, you tapped into satellite feeds, cross-referencing heat signatures against the building's known layout. The smart lenses processed the information with remarkable speed, overlaying thermal imaging onto your regular vision.
"Ye of little faith..." you responded, zooming in on the distinctive heat signatures visible through layers of glass and concrete. "Two, four, that's six heat signatures, thank you very much."
You could almost hear Tony's grin through the comms. "Well, well. New lenses are working out, then?"
"Like a dream," you confirmed, marking the targets on your tactical display. "You've got two hostiles by the east window, one near the elevator, two in what appears to be the main conference room, and one moving between rooms. Possibly a lookout."
Natasha's voice came through next. "Entry points?"
Your fingers flew across the interface, pulling up the building schematics. "Service entrance on the north side has minimal security. Maintenance access through the forty-first floor gives you a direct path up. Sending the route now."
The team acknowledged, their movements perfectly synchronised as they approached their positions. Through Clint's lenses, you watched as he set up on an adjacent rooftop. Through Steve's, you monitored the service lift. Through Natasha's, you tracked her silent approach through the maintenance corridors.
This was what you were made for... or at least, what you'd become good at. The mystery of your past identity might still linger, but in this moment, your purpose was clear. You were the eyes that saw everything, the mind that connected the dots, the voice that guided Earth's mightiest heroes through the dark.
"Hostiles are moving," you warned, noting a shift in the heat signatures. "Cap, look alive. Hot bad guys headed your way via service lift."
"Copy that.”
Tony's voice cut in, amusement evident even through the comms. "Hey, whoa, hey. I’m sorry, hot bad guys? You're not abusing OmniSight's capabilities, are you? Using the programme to scope out a date?"
You scoffed unconvincingly, your eyes lingering perhaps a moment too long on an external security camera zoomed in on Steve’s position. Your lenses gave you a perfect view of his impressive physique in his suit. The way the material stretched across his broad shoulders, the narrow taper of his waist, glutes you wanted to bite into. The thought crossed your mind before you could stop it.
"You'd better not be checking me out under this suit," Tony quipped, the Iron Man armour gleaming as he hovered outside the building's glass façade.
"Believe me, Stark..." you replied, your eyes drifting back to Steve, blatantly ogling his rear end as he shifted position. "I am so not checking you out."
Clint’s quiet chuckle came through the comms. "If you two are done with... whatever this is... we've got company."
Through his lenses, you watched as three armed men rounded the corner, completely unaware of Hawkeye pressed against the ceiling in the shadows above them. His perspective shifted rapidly as he dropped down, the feed providing a dizzying view of him taking down all three in the blink of an eye.
"East corridor clear," he reported, not even slightly out of breath.
While you kept your voice professional, your eyes were definitely focused elsewhere. On a certain super soldier whose every movement seemed designed to test your concentration. You shifted your attention back to his feed just in time to see the service elevator doors open. Three men emerged, weapons drawn. Without hesitation, red, white, and blue blurred through the air, ricocheting off the wall and striking them all before they could react.
You found yourself admiring more than just his tactical skills. The fluidity with which he moved, the raw power behind each strike, the way his jaw clenched in concentration, or how his voice dropped slightly when he gave commands. It was mesmerising in a way that had nothing to do with mission parameters.
"Service entrance secure," Steve confirmed, catching his shield as it returned to him with that effortless motion that suddenly made your breath catch slightly.
As you continued coordinating the team, your focus remained split—professional analysis running parallel to a much less professional appreciation of Captain America's... assets. It wasn't something you'd ever voice aloud, of course. The team dynamic was complicated enough without adding your growing attraction to Steve into the mix. Besides, what would someone like him see in someone like you? A person without a past, without even fingerprints to call your own? Talk about a walking red flag.
The mission had been a success, but not without its costs. By the time the Quinjet touched down at the compound, the adrenaline had worn off enough for injuries to make themselves known. Clint had taken the worst of it—a nasty gash across his abdomen from shattered glass when one of the hostiles had decided that defenestration was a valid escape strategy. Steve hadn't fared much better, catching shrapnel from an explosion on the right side of his abdomen.
Yet, as you stood in the infirmary, watching Dr Cho work her magic with the Regeneration Cradle, there was only one patient on the table.
"Quick question..." you said, leaning against the doorframe. "If Steve sustained a similar injury, why isn't he in here too?"
Tony, who'd considerately brought his famous Chlorophyll Recovery Drink for the team, snorted as he handed one each to Nat and Clint. "No, no, Capsicle believes in walking it off. He'll probably just slap on a Band-Aid."
"A show-off is what he is," Clint grumbled. But despite his complaints, there was no real heat behind his words.
Cho smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. In just a few minutes, you'll be right as rain too."
You nodded, but your thoughts drifted to Steve. The injury had looked painful—deep lacerations along his abdomen that had soaked through part of his uniform. The fact that he'd refused treatment wasn't surprising, but it was concerning. Super soldier or not, wounds needed cleaning.
Tony must have noticed your distraction. "You know you have the rest of the day off, right? You don't have to hang around the infirmary."
You straightened, deciding what to do with yourself. "Yeah, I think I'll get in a couple of practice runs while I'm still fired up."
It wasn't entirely a lie. The mission had gone well, and you wanted to review the OmniSight data while it was fresh. But there was also a part of you that was worried about Steve, concerned that his stubborn self-sufficiency might be covering for something more serious.
You made your way to the Tac Ops Centre, the room subdued now that the mission was complete. Settling into your usual chair, you logged into OmniSight, planning to review the operation and make notes for improvements.
Meanwhile, across the compound, in the administrative wing, Maria was briefing Steve. "I’ve forwarded the GTAN updates to you..." she said, handing Steve a tablet. "Only a couple of them are from the X-Mansion, but I wanted you to have a look before this runs cold."
Steve, still in his tactical gear, took the tablet with a grimace that betrayed his discomfort.
GTAN Incident Report – Thread Overview
Reported Threat: Burglary at X-Mansion
Date: 15 January 2025, 03:17
Reported by: Ororo Munroe
Incident ID: GTAN-XM-240115
THREAD LOG
Timestamp: 15 January 2025, 03:17
X-Mansion's been breached. Someone got in, bypassed our security, and destroyed part of the central system. Logan’s tracking the their movement, but so far, no sign of the intruder. Here’s the problem. The intruder was Mystique. Or at least, looked exactly like her. But it wasn’t her, it couldn’t have been. Logan’s sure of it. We need GTAN eyes on this. Whoever did this was no amateur.
Wolverine@XavierInstitute.edu [James Howlett] – On-Site Follow-Up
Timestamp: 15 January 2025, 04:02
I don’t know who the hell that was, but it wasn’t Mystique. I’ve known her scent for decades. This was off. I’ve tracked them past the treeline. Whoever they are, they left no tracks. Something doesn’t add up. I don’t buy that this was a random break-in.
Coulson@SHIELD.gov [Director Phil Coulson] – Initial Review
Timestamp: 15 January 2025, 07:45
@MariaHill @MelindaMay @GrantWard @AlphonsoMackenzie
I want the four of you on this! Ward, Mack, see what you can find on the dark web.
Simmons@SHIELD.sec [Jemma Simmons] – Tech Analysis
Timestamp: 15 January 2025, 08:21
We’ve got no energy signatures from the breach itself. Whatever tech they used to infiltrate the Mansion was either cloaked or modified. This wasn't a run-of-the-mill job. Someone did their homework.
SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR NOTICE
⚠️ GTAN System Alert: Network instability detected.
Certain functionalities may be temporarily unavailable.
SYSTEM ERROR – CONNECTION LOST
⚠️ GTAN servers have unexpectedly gone offline.
Attempting to reconnect…
SYSTEM REBOOT IN PROGRESS
⚠️ Unexpected outage. GTAN is rebooting.
Some data may be unavailable.
Users are advised to re-submit any lost reports.
Hill@SHIELD.gov [Maria Hill]
Timestamp: 15 January 2025, 14:21
Quick check-in. Everyone okay? Casualties to be reported ASAP.
Banner@Avengers.global [Dr Bruce Banner] – Cross-Incident Correlation
Timestamp: 15 January 2025, 15:06
Hill, all good at the compound. Y/N's in recovery but her condition's unrelated.
Storm, Logan, this wasn’t random. The Avengers Compound was hit at almost the exact same time this morning. Whoever they are, they knew what they were after.
They stole the Project X Compound, an old serum developed in the 80s by a group of South African mutant supremacists. Their theory is certain humans have dormant genes that could be forced into activation. Project X was their way of accelerating natural selection. We’ve been tracking it across hemispheres, trying to keep it out of the wrong hands. And now, someone just took it from right under us.
This was coordinated. We're trying to figure out the whos and whys.
Ward@SHIELD.black [Grant Ward]
Timestamp: 15 January 2025, 15:35
My question is, how can we be so sure this wasn't Mystique? She's gone off the rails before.
Simmons@SHIELD.sec [Jemma Simmons] – Bio-Mimicry Analysis
Timestamp: 15 January 2025, 15:40
Logan’s instincts are rarely wrong, but let’s be scientific. If this wasn’t Mystique, we need to consider two possibilities:
- Clone or synthetic copy: Given Mystique’s genetic complexity, this would be difficult but not impossible.
- Tech-assisted disguise: Advanced holo-tech or bio-mimicry implants.
May@SHIELD.sec [Melinda May] – Tactical Assessment
Timestamp: 15 January 2025, 15:57
I’ve studied the minimal footage we were able to recover frame by frame. Logan's right. Something's off. There are microscopic 'glitches' in the intruder’s shapeshifted form. A digital distortion, or... shapeshifting error of sorts. This doesn’t match Mystique’s usual MO. She's fluid. Seamless. She can maintain a disguise without glitching. We’re looking at someone or something else. Could’ve been someone with inside knowledge of X-Mansion’s security. Maybe a former affiliate…
Ward@SHIELD.black [Grant Ward] – Black Market Intel
Timestamp: 18 January 2025, 02:15
I’ve been hearing rumours. Hotshot buyer on the lookout for mutant-tracking tech. He's hard to pin down, but we’re dealing with a significant player. Not just some random arms dealer.
Barnes@Avengers.global [James Buchanan Barnes]
Timestamp: 19 January 2025, 07:35
Try to find out the nationality. There’s a chance this tech is tied to the same buyer we’ve been tracking.
Mackenzie@SHIELD.black [Alphonso Mackenzie] – Undercover Intel
Timestamp: 20 January 2025, 23:37
Been embedded in underground arms dealer circles. Heard someone mention a device that can ‘see beyond the gene’ and had apparently paid BIG money for it. Don't know if this means anything or is at all relevant.
Romanoff@Avengers.global [Natasha Romanoff]
Timestamp: 25 January 2025, 08:37
"See beyond the gene"? Who even talks like that?
Barnes@Avengers.global [James Buchanan Barnes]
Timestamp: 25 January 2025, 08:38
Pretentious dicks.
Hill@SHIELD.gov [Maria Hill]
Timestamp: 03 March 2025, 14:21
*Thread forwarded to @SteveRogers
With a strangled sigh, Steve handed the tablet back to Maria. “Alright, just... give me a sec to clean up and wrap my mind around all of this. I may need to have a sit-down with Buck. He should run point on this case.”
Back in the Tac Ops Centre, OmniSight came to life, holographic displays springing up around you. Once signed in, the programme immediately detected an active feed. You frowned, puzzled. The mission was over; all lenses should have been deactivated. Curiosity piqued, you toggled through the programme, flipping past the team's feeds... Nat, Tony, Clint, Bruce, Thor... all feeds were inactive as expected. Finally, you landed on Steve's feed, which was, inexplicably, still live.
You froze, your heart pounding in your chest.
There he was, standing topless in front of his bathroom mirror, nothing but a towel slung around his waist. The contact lenses were still in his eyes, transmitting everything he saw—including his own reflection in the mirror as he examined the angry wound on his abdomen.
You knew you should close the feed. This was a privacy violation, plain and simple. But as he turned slightly, revealing the full extent of his injury... along with the sculpted perfection of his torso, you just... couldn't.
Water droplets from his shower clung to his shoulders, trailing down the defined planes of his chest. His hair was damp, darker than usual, and slightly mussed. The wound looked painful, but not as bad as you'd feared—already beginning to heal at the accelerated rate his serum afforded him.
Your finger hovered over the disconnect button, but remained frozen there as Steve reached for a first aid kit, muscles shifting beneath skin as he moved. The sight was hypnotic. Not just the physical perfection, but the vulnerability of the moment. Captain America, tending to his own wounds in silence, jaw set in determination.
This was wrong. This was an invasion of his privacy. This was... hot!
Then, as if he sensed something, Steve paused. He looked directly at his reflection, brows furrowed slightly.
"Y/N?" he almost whispered, his voice filling your ears through your headphones. "Are you... are you there?"
Your breath caught, your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the small gasp that escaped. You froze completely, unable to respond, unable to even move to disconnect the feed. The mortification washing over you was paralysing—he knew. Somehow, he knew.
When no answer came, Steve snickered to himself, shaking his head. What was he thinking? Of course, you'd never do that. Invade someone's privacy, particularly in a moment of vulnerability. You were professional, dedicated to the mission. Not the type to spy on a teammate.
You watched, heartbeat thundering in your ears, as he finished cleaning the wound and applied his Band-Aid. His movements were mechanical—the routine of a soldier who'd patched himself up countless times before.
Once secured, he leaned closer to the mirror, examining his work with a slight nod of satisfaction. Then, with a casual motion that betrayed no awareness of being observed, he reached up and removed the contact lenses from his eyes. The feed disconnected abruptly, leaving you sitting in the Tac Ops Centre with flamed cheeks, a dry throat, and unfamiliar emotions flooding your system.
Your body hummed with a strange, electric sensation that pooled in your abdomen, your skin hypersensitive, your breath shallow. You had no context for these feelings, no memory to compare them to. Since waking up in that duffel bag, your focus had been on survival, on proving your worth, on finding your place among these extraordinary people. There had been no space for... whatever this was.
The rush of heat, the tightness in your chest, the almost painful awareness of your own body—these sensations were as foreign to you as your own past. With your memories wiped clean, these fundamental human experiences felt new, overwhelming in their intensity.
You closed the OmniSight programme with trembling hands, trying to process what had just happened. Not just Steve's partial nudity or your invasion of his privacy, but your body's visceral response to it all.
As you sat alone in the Tac Ops Centre, you realised that Dr Glueck had missed something crucial in her evaluation. It wasn't just social interaction you were lacking in the compound, it was the full spectrum of human experience, including these instinctual responses that even amnesia couldn't fully erase.
And now, with the image of Steve burned into your mind, you would have to face him tomorrow, look him in the eye, and pretend that nothing had changed. But everything had changed. And somewhere deep inside, beneath the embarrassment and confusion, there was a tiny spark of exhilaration at this rediscovery of yet another piece of your humanity—even if it had come in the most unprofessional, inconvenient way possible.
0 Comments