A/N: sorry for the long delay in sharing another imagine series, but there's been a lot of stuff going on lately. Most of which, inspired this new story. It's my own way of discussing my struggles with feeling trapped by my health and used at work. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: depictions of violence (fighting), mentions of blood

The smell of sweat and blood fills the air as I shift on my feet. Major is arguing with some idiot named 'Spike,' who seems to be running tonight's show. Or, he thinks he's running it. I highly doubt someone who calls themselves something that ridiculous would be able to pull this kind of event together. "Dude, I can let a kid—much less a girl—fight. I mean, have you seen the ring?"

"She can handle herself. I assure you." Major replies in that even, calm tone that sends a chill down most people's spine. "So, you're going to let her fight."

"I'm sorry, man. I wish I could. Maybe I can put her in a warm-up fight against one of the smaller guys, but that's the best I can manage."

Major just looks over his shoulder at me and raises a brow. I clench my teeth and pick Spike up by the color of his shirt with ease. "Don't test her. You won't like what happens when you do." Major whisper, and Spike watches me, eyes full of fear as he nods his head.

"Fine. You—you can have a title fight."

"Good. Nyx, you know what to do." Major orders as I set Spike down. All I can do is nod. I learned a long time ago how this all works and refusing Major never ends well.

I shove my way to the front, right in front of the cage. The two men in the cage are tearing each other apart—almost literally. Not that it's anything new. Major always says 'the more brutal the fight, the better you get to eat, Nyx.'

It makes me miss the days of doing Hydra's dirty work or being locked in a cage. Well, I'm still living through the latter, it's just in a different way. So I just listen to what Major tells me to do until one way or another it comes to an end.

"C'mon," Major says as his hand wraps around my elbow, "you need to get ready for your fight."

I don't bother to argue. I've seen enough to know how to win against the 'reigning champ.' His footwork is sloppy, he puts too much of his weight into his punches that it throws his balance, and best of all, he's sluggish.

Major roughly lets me go as we enter a makeshift locker room. He doesn't say a word as he gives me my mask and the role of tape. I take my time to tightly wrap my hands. "And the mask." Major growls with a brow raised in challenge, "you know what will happen if you don't comply."

I level a glare at him as I place the muzzle against my face and tighten it. A quiet beep breaks through the silence as it's locked into place, which is my little reminder of what will happen if I try to remove it.

"Good. Now, go, make me proud, Nyx."

I watch him go and try to remember if there was ever anything before this—before Hydra, but I can't find anything. It's hard enough to remember the last time I talked to someone—that I didn't have to fight for basic things, my life included.

"And tonight's contender against Crusher is the small, the powerful, the terrifying, Nyx!" The makeshift announcer cheers, which I take as my cue to emerge. People throw their snacks and even a few bottles at me as I walk towards the cage amidst the boo's.

Crusher grins with yellow, chipped teeth as he looks me over. "They want me to fight a little girl, huh? Why don't you just run on home and save me the trouble?"

'Oh, this is gonna be fun.' I tell myself as he throws the first punch. All I have to do is step aside, and Crusher practically falls flat on his face.

The veins on his face look like their absolute to explode as he turns to face me. He unconsciously shuffles his feet, and I take another side step, this time, jumping on to his back, and spinning so he hits the floor with a loud thud. I leap on top of him and start punching, which sends the crowd into a roar of cheers.

That's the thing, isn't it?

Everyone wants blood. That's all they've every wanted or needed from me. For as long as I can remember, that's always been my mission—draw blood. Whether it be kill or intimidate, it's always about getting my hands dirty with the stuff.

So I keep going. I keep punching as Crusher's nose breaks and teeth chip. Punch after punch. It all blurs into that one shade of red.

Crusher manages to shove me back and get on his feet again. It's pretty clear he's feeling the effects of the fight so far—if you can even call it that, but he still manages to grab me by the throat. "You're gonna pay for that little girl."

I roll my eyes and kick out at his stomach, which immediately makes him double over. The muzzle gives me a shock, and I grit my teeth. It's Major's way of saying pull it together or else.

Of course, in that split second distraction, Crusher manages to get back up and punch me square in the jaw. Everything goes red again, and I lose myself in the flashes of pain that ripple across my knuckles.

Then, something stops me. I look at my fist to see some weird sticky string keeping my hand from moving. It takes me a second to trace it back to the source, and as I do, the doors burst open and a bunch of cops flood the place.

Immediately, everyone begins to panic, and I lose sight of Major in it all. I still feel the telltale zap that reminds me what I have to do unless I want my head blown off. So, I plant my feet and pull as hard as I can against the string.

The guy comes flying off the wall and kicks me square in the chest. My back hits the cage and bounces me back. I put everything I have into the punch, yet somehow, he catches it. "What the?" I think to myself.

Then, someone puts a needle in my neck, and it all goes black.

I come to tied against a chair in a bright white room. My brain immediately starts to scramble for an explanation. It can't be Hydra, they're too weak and wouldn't have the influence needed to get the police to help capture me, but then, if it's not them, why hasn't the muzzle gone off?

Unless Major is dead or lost the controller. Now that's a thought.

I snap the restraints and survey the room. There's cameras and what look like signal blockers mounted in each corner of the room, which explains why I'm not dead yet. They probably put them up to keep me from sending a signal out, but either way, it's probably the only thing keeping me alive.
Which means, as usual, there's no point in trying to get out.

So, I wait. Eyes locked on the door ahead of me, and legs stretched out across the floor.

It's quiet in here. If it wasn't so much like my old cell or the apartment, I'd almost find it peaceful. Instead, it's just suffocating, and the muzzle certainly doesn't help.

The door clicks open, and none other than Captain Shining-Star America comes walking through. He's dressed in plain clothes, but it's clear he's still ready for a fight. I don't have any plans to start one though. "I'm sorry for how we had to bring you here. Do you need anything?"

I watch him and try to figure out if this is genuine or an interrogation ploy, but he doesn't show any signs of cracking so far. All I do is shake my head in reply.

"Any chance you'd be willing to take off that mask?" He asks, and I shake my head again. "You don't have to worry. Hydra won't be able to get to you while you're here. You have my word on that."

I still shake my head. They always find a way, and I know all too well that they'll never stop when it comes to getting me back under their thumb. "I know it's hard to believe, but your under our protection now. Hydra doesn't even know this place exists. Either way, you'll have to take the mask of at some point. I can't let you starve."

He sighs as I turn away, and a minute later, he's gone.

Over the next few days, they each take turns trying to get me to speak or take off the muzzle. Some of them try like Steve Rogers did and assure me I'm safe or offer food as temptation to take if off. Others try to lecture me about what will happen if I don't cooperate. Of course, no one bothers to ask why I continue to refuse.

At least, not until the last one.

It's clear from the second the door opens, he's not supposed to be here. Every footfall is tentative, his hands shake so much the food in his hand almost falls off the plate, and as best as he tries to hold my gaze, his eyes dart to the cameras in the corners. Yet, there's a strange sense of calm and confidence around him. It feels familiar in a way like we've met somewhere before.

"Hi." He whispers as he sets the food down and sits across from me. "It's Nyx, right?"

I watch him for a second before nodding.

"Is that your real name?" I shrug, which causes a frown to tug at his features. "Are you hungry? I brought you some food from my private stash."

I almost crack a smile at that before shaking my head. "Are you sure? You've been in here for a while and haven't eaten anything." He watches me for a second, still frowning as he asks, "Is it because of the mask?"

I nod.

"Is it that you don't want to take it off? Or that you can't?" I pause before holding up two fingers. "So you can't."

Another nod. "Can you—can you not talk with it on either?" I shake my head and tentatively scoot forward. He doesn't flinch like I thought he would as I reach out, but I hesitate and look at the cameras. "Unless you're gonna hurt me, it's okay."

I gently place my fingers under his jaw and push up so he can't speak before pointing to the muzzle. "So it keeps you from talking, but I'm guessing that's not it? I mean, there's gotta be a reason you can't take it off."

There's something about him that puts me at ease. Maybe it's because he doesn't seem to have any agenda, or that he's bothering to ask why instead of pushing.

I nod and try to mimic a bomb exploding from my head. "Wait, it blows up?!" He questions, and I meekly nod. "That explains why so many people came out of here with bruises. You had to keep them from taking it off or else you and they would die.

"I'm sure Mr. Stark can find a way to get it off without triggering it if you'd let him." I shake my head and back away. "But if you don't, you'll die either way."

I hate that my first reaction is to shrug, but that's what I was taught. Death is inevitable, and maybe it's just my time.

"You can't say that." He cries, and I give him a strange look. "I'm sorry, it's just—from what you've said and I read in your file, it's obvious working for Hydra was never your choice, right?" I nod shamefully, "But maybe, if you give us a chance to help, you won't have to be stuck like that anymore. You can get a second chance."

It's quiet for a second as he watched me think it over. I nod and motion to the muzzle. "Really? You'll let us help?" Another nod, which makes him break out into a beaming grin. "I'll tell Mr. Stark, and—and maybe, when it's done, you'll see that things can get better."

I don't know why, maybe it's the childish excitement that breaks across his features, or the soft look in his eyes, or maybe it's just that I'm tired of living without being able to believe in anyone, but I find myself smiling along with the boy, who I don't even know the name of.

"Hold on, I'll go tell Mr. Stark and be right back." The boy says as he moves to push himself to his feet, and I almost reach out to stop him before thinking better of it. It's strange, but I almost want him to stay.

I shake my head to dispel the thought. It's probably just nothing more than a silly want for company and conversation. All of which is pointless and trivial. Or—or is that just another thing Hydra made me believe. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.

Major always said Hydra knew how to do anything but lie. Not that he was any more of a saint than they were. I mean, I've watched him kill men for less than looking at him funny. Not to mention the number of times he had me fight or steal for the simple privilege of not having my head blown off or basic food.

Even in the early days, he'd try to figure out how Hydra programmed mine and the winter soldier's heads to do their bidding. What worries me more than the muzzle is that the trigger could still exist—or that Major had me set to do something without even realizing it. The last thing I need is to screw up this chance without even meaning to.

If it even is a real chance.

But something tells me it is as Tony Stark walks back through the door with the boy from earlier following close behind. "So, the kid tells me you're willing to cooperate?" I glance over at the boy for a second before nodding and pointing to the muzzle with a raised brow. "Yes, we'll figure out a way to get it off without hurting you or anyone else."

I raise a brow at him. Clearly there's a catch. There always is—even with 'heroes.' They're not going to take a risk without hoping for something in return. "In exchange," and here it comes, "you give us everything you know about Hydra. In exchange, we will offer your protection and help you through whatever Hydra almost definitely did to mess with your head. Deal?"

It's quiet for a second as I consider my options. Go painfully in a few days when the dehydration takes over, or help the Avengers with what I know, get revenge, and live a little longer—even if Hydra manages to find and get to me?

I nod and reach out my hand to Tony. As best as he tries to hide it, I can see the smile that tugs at the edges of his mouth even as he rejects my outstretched hand. "Okay. I'll get some scans and have a plan to get that thing off you by tomorrow morning."

The boy lingers for a second after Tony leaves. "See? Things are gonna be better now." I smile under the muzzle, because for once, I actually believe they can truly get better.