Liam breathed out slowly. "We join one of the militias. The good ones. The groups that actually try to fix things here. The ones protecting people instead of shaking them down."
Steve lifted an eyebrow. "Join a militia? How does that get us closer to HYDRA?"
Liam leaned forward, his tone steady. "Because HYDRA always targets people like them. When I was stationed here, I saw it again and again. HYDRA never went after criminals or soldiers. They went after civilians who wanted to do something good. People who were desperate. People with nothing left to lose. People with strong willpower."
Natasha crossed her arms, listening carefully. "Why them?"
"Because they're the easiest to manipulate," Liam said. "HYDRA approaches them quietly. They offer protection. Food. Money. Or… power. They promise they can make them stronger. Faster. They tell them that if they volunteer for experiments, they'll be able to protect their neighborhoods better. That they can 'save Sokovia'."
Steve frowned a little, his voice low. "People really fall for that? No one stops to think it might be… dangerous? Or that something's wrong with those promises?"
Liam shook his head. "Cap… you're thinking like someone who still has something to lose.
He continued quietly, "A man who watched his family die in a bombing here… doesn't care about the risks. He doesn't care if it's shady. If someone tells him he can get stronger… strong enough to protect whatever left of his family, or get revenge… he'll say yes without hesitation."
Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly. She knew he was right.
"And HYDRA knows that," Liam went on. "They don't lie about everything. They even tell recruits there's a chance the experiments could kill them. And these people still agree. Because when you've lost everything… death isn't the worst option anymore."
Steve's expression darkened.
"But it doesn't happen naturally," Liam added. "HYDRA pushes them to that point. They make sure these people reach that level of desperation. They manipulate the situation. They cause chaos. Shortages. Riots. Sometimes even bombings to destabilize neighborhoods. Anything that makes civilians feel hopeless."
He sighed as this information was part of the memories of the body he had occupied. And it really told him how low would HYDRA would go to achieve their goals.
"They didn't stop at adults," he said quietly. "HYDRA didn't have a line they wouldn't cross. If they thought something could make a stronger soldier, they used it. Even if that meant experimenting on kids."
Steve froze. Natasha's eyes flicked up, sharp.
Liam continued, his voice low. "Children barely old enough to speak. Some of them were taken from orphanages. Some from the street. A few were sold by people who were desperate or scared. HYDRA grouped them by age and tested them like they were equipment."
He rubbed his hand over his face, disgust clear in his voice. "They had categories for them. Age one to five. Age five to ten. Teen groups. Different test models. Different serums. Different exposure levels. All of it tracked. Measured. Adjusted. They treated kids like test batches. Like prototypes."
He looked down at the table, "They called it 'early-stage conditioning.' Said younger bodies adapted faster. Said they were 'easier to reshape.' That's the word they used. Reshape."
Natasha's voice was almost a whisper. "How many…?"
Liam shook his head slowly. "Too many. Most of them never made it out. And the ones that survived… HYDRA trained them to be weapons before they ever understood what a childhood was."
He looked at both of them, the weight of everything heavy in his eyes. Even though Liam was a transmigrator, he felt sick knowing the body he now lived in once belonged to this shitty organization. He was a little relieved that the original owner hadn't been involved in collecting victims for experiments. He had mostly done field work, infiltration, and protecting the base's identity from other factions.
Still even knowing all this first hand made Liam feel sick.
"HYDRA isn't the kind of enemy you show mercy to," Liam said quietly. "They don't fucking deserve it. Not after the shit they've done… and the shit they keep doing."
His voice turned harder. "If we run into them, we kill them. Fast. No second chances. No hoping they'll change."
Natasha didn't move, but she watched him closely.
"And the brainwashed ones…" Liam went on. "They're done for. HYDRA's control can't be undone. Not unless you're insanely lucky like me. These brainwashed agents never break free. And if they stay alive, HYDRA keeps using them like fucking tools."
He shook his head. "They're victims, yeah. But they're also weapons. And weapons like that… we can't let them walk around."
A loud crack filled the room.
Steve had slammed his fist onto the table, hard enough that the old wood shook.
"Fucking bastards," he growled.
Both Liam and Natasha froze, eyes wide.
Captain America— the man who used to scold people for swearing— had just cursed like he meant every bit of it.
Steve didn't look least bit bothered about it. He looked furious. His jaw was tight, and his eyes burned with anger.
"They hurt kids," he said quietly. "They brainwash people. They break families. They turn good people into weapons. These dirty sons of bitches ruin everything."
His hands curled into fists.
"We stop them. All of them. No more slipping through the cracks. No more 'they're gone' when they're not."
Liam nodded, his anger settling into something cold and sharp. "Good. Because that's exactly what we're going to need."
Natasha let out a slow breath. She looked at the two men— both angry, both ready, both done with waiting.
"Alright," she said softly. "Then we do it your way."
---
Meanwhile, far away from them…
Deep underground, under layers of concrete and steel, a hidden HYDRA base hummed with quiet machinery. The air was cold, the lights were dim, and the walls were covered with screens showing blurry images of different areas in Sokovia.
Baron Strucker stood in the middle of the command room, hands behind his back, studying a holographic map of Novi Grad. The faint blue glow reflected off his round glasses.
An agent rushed over and stopped a few steps away, keeping a respectful distance.
"Sir Baron," he said, "we've been informed that the Avengers might arrive today or tomorrow. We still don't know their exact departure time—Director Fury hid it well."
Strucker didn't react. He only hummed quietly, eyes still on the map.
"And who did Fury send?"
The agent straightened at once. "Stark and Banner are not coming. Barton isn't either. Only Captain Rogers, Romanoff, and… the traitor, Liam Walker."
At that, Strucker finally lifted his gaze, interest flashing behind his glasses.
"So," he said calmly, "Fury sent his fighters… but not his thinkers."
"Yes, sir."
Strucker adjusted his glasses and returned his attention to the map.
"That means they'll need much more time to find anything. Without Stark's tech or Banner's brain, it will take them days…. and that is what we exactly need."
The agent nodded quickly. "We think the same, sir. And we still don't know how the three of them plan to search for us. Their method is unknown, so our security must stay strict."
Strucker slowly turned toward the large window overlooking the lab. The sceptre sat alone on its raised platform, glowing softly in the dim room. For a moment, he watched the light pulse, as if thinking.
"The enhanced one… Liam Walker," he said at last, speaking the name like he was clicking the last piece of a puzzle into place.
A thin, eager smile crept onto his face.
"Just imagine," he whispered, "what I could learn if I had his body on my table. His healing… his strength… his abilities." The blue glow reflected in his glasses, giving his eyes an unnatural shine. "Even a tiny sample of whatever he is could push our research ahead by years."
The agent swallowed. "Should I raise the retrieval protocols, sir Baron?"
Strucker gave a single, firm nod.
"Do it. If the Avengers want to bring their little talent right to us…" His smile sharpened into something cold. "…then the least I can do is welcome him."
He turned back to the holographic map, hands folding neatly behind his back.
"In the end," Strucker said softly, "a prize like Walker could change everything."
***
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