Bucky stared at the storage unit, unease settling heavily in his chest.

Opening it had been his idea. He'd volunteered before anyone else could. At the time, he'd insisted on coming alone.

Now, standing before the obscenely bright orange roll-up door, he found himself hesitating.

What would this asset be like?

Would it...

She, he corrected himself.

The files had been frustratingly sparse. Another ghost hidden in Hydra's long list of sins. Another life stolen and twisted into something useful.

Would she be like him?

Brainwashed. Broken. Conditioned into obedience so thoroughly that freedom felt unnatural?

Or would she be worse?

The thought lingered.

Mutants weren't rare anymore. Not like they once had been. If Hydra had gotten their hands on one, there was no telling what they'd done—or what she'd be capable of.

Either way, she was probably still in cryostasis.

The records showed the unit drawing a staggering amount of electricity for at least the last five years. Before that, the data became scattered and inconsistent, as if someone had gone to great lengths to bury its existence.

Bucky exhaled slowly.

It didn't matter.

Whatever waited behind that door deserved a chance. Just like he'd been given one.

Steeling himself, he stepped forward.

The padlock snapped apart in his metal hand.

He lifted the latch.

The door rattled violently before rolling upward with a groan of protesting steel.

For a moment, Bucky forgot how to breathe.

The cryo chamber dominated the center of the unit, bathed in pale blue light. Frost clung to the glass in delicate patterns, obscuring most of the figure inside.

Most.

What little he could see was enough to stop him cold.

She was beautiful.

Not in the way magazines described beauty. Not polished or glamorous.

Unreal.

Like something preserved outside of time.

His breath caught in his throat.

Then—

Her eyes opened.

And they were already looking directly at him.