A/N: Hi. Welcome. If you're here from MIGRAINE, strap in you're I'm for a ride. If you're not, you don't necessarily have to read MIGRAINE to understand this story but they will intertwine later on and there are lots of mentions of the characters from MIGRAINE mentioned here.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Marvel, only all my original characters.

Enjoy!

2015

It was a cool and brisk morning in Bansca Bantrisca, Slovakia. There was a fresh layer of snow on the ground, but it didn't stick for long with all the wind picking it up and displacing it somewhere further down the mountains. The dead leaves still left behind from the Winter whipped around the legs of a woman that slowly walked down the dirt road towards the grand manor that looked as though it had been abandoned for years now.

Although she was wearing heels, the woman made little to no sounds as she walked with a purpose. She seemed to have a direction, but was in no rush to get there. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying the walk up, her silver eyes wandering and studying the view as she took it all in. Everything from the bushes on the side of the road, to the broken water fountain in the middle of the drive, and the manor itself were all so different than she had remembered. It was eerie being back here, but she had unfinished business to attend to.

Her heeled boots still refrained from making any noise as she stepped up the cracked stone stairs up onto the creaky decaying porch. Slowly, she made her way to the door and pushed it open with ease. When she stepped through the doorway, the knob had been burnt to a melted heap of copper and brass with just a touch.

Any normal person would think the manor to be uninhabited, but the woman knew better. She could practically feel the wickedness residing in the enormous house as she walked beneath the two large grand staircases towards the large study area. It's where she knew he'd be. It's where he would always go back when he still lived here. She had to remind herself that this wasn't just his home, it was hers too for a time. A long time ago...

Sure enough, as she entered the study, there he stood.

He stood tall, or as tall as he could with a bad back. He had shrunk a bit, and his once lusciously black hair was shriveled down to a white messy ball of fluff atop his head. No wonder in all the surveillance pictures she had of him he had been wearing various hats. Well, it wasn't like she he anything against white hair, but he could've at least tried to brush it or something. He looked pathetic. Especially standing before her with that stupid fucking cane she hated so much.

He hadn't noticed her entrance yet. He wasn't supposed to.

Instead, she watched him as his haze traveled up the dusty bookshelves, admiring the faded photographs of memories forgotten by the broken family that abandoned this house. The old Manor. She imagined he was probably reflecting on all the good times the family had in this home that was never really a home. She hated the fact that he believed there to an any good memories. She certainly couldn't think of any.

"Visit much?"

The man jumped at the sound of her voice. He clutched his chest and spun around. His eyes that were once cold and hard, immediately softened and narrowed at he sight of her. Good. It was nice to know he knew who she was even after all this time.

"Roźalia...?" his weak and frail voice carried itself across the room like a small puff of smoke. When it hit her, it sent shivers down her spine. A voice that once commanded a room and made her flinch at just the sound now made her want to puke in disgust.

She tightened her hands into fists at her side and clenched her jaw as she answered. "That's not my name. Not anymore," she retorted. "You killed that girl the day you sent the orders to have your own son and his family slaughtered at the hands of your lackeys because you're too much of a coward to do it yourself," she spat at the man. She promised herself she wouldn't get this emotional, but she hadn't seen him in almost a decade. All that pint up rage, anguish, and anger was starting to spill over and a part of her didn't want to stop it.

Across the room, the man shook his head in dismay. "Tsk, tsk... Always so dramatic," he admonished her as if she were still a child. "Did the Red Room teach you nothing?"

Her hands were already wrapping around the gun on her hip holster before he even finished his question. When he blinked again, it was already pointed at his head. "They taught me a lot of things in the Red Room. One of which was how to properly fire a gun," she explained. Her voice calm and collected as she remained level-headed. He didn't need to use her emotions against her, not anymore. "What's to stop me from using what they taught me on you?"

For a moment, a glimpse of fear flashed in his eyes. The woman could see it.

He scoffed shortly after her threat as if to play off his real feelings towards having a gun pointed at him by a woman that clearly hated him and had no problem killing him with or without a weapon. "You're not going to kill me," he told her matter-of-factly.

Okay... I'll bite.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because you're here, aren't you?" The man smiled broadly as he raised his arms and gestured to the vastness of the house around him. Here. Home. "It means you're as guilty as I am."

She narrowed her eyes at the man. "I don't understand..."

"Tell me– why did you come here?" He prompted her as he took a step forward, the sound of the cane echoing in her ears. "To bury your past? Say goodbye to your brother? Kill me?"

She scoffed and shook her head. If she didn't want this to be over with then and there, she would've vowed to take her time with him instead of using a gun. But she'd wasted enough time on him as it was. He didn't deserve any more. "I came to see if your pathetic life amounted to anything in the end," she snapped back. "I came to honor my brother, his wife, and their children. The ones you killed!"

He scoffed. "Honor? You're the reason they're dead!"

"No," she practically growled through her gritted teeth. "No! I didn't order their deaths! You did!"

"But they would have ever been killed had you not fed them to the wolves all those years ago!" He shouted back at her. She couldn't tell if he was seriously convinced of his innocence or if his old age really was getting to him.

"You ordered me to hunt him down and force him to work for your disgusting organization," she seethed. She would've been lying if she had said she didn't find a little satisfaction in watching his face construe with anger at the insult to his precious life's work with the NEO-Nazi's in HYDRA. "I offered him a deal to help keep them alive. You sentenced them to their death."

"You could've disobeyed your orders..." He muttered, his cane coming down once again as he took yet another step towards her. Her finger inched towards the trigger. "But you obeyed, Roźalia... You always obey. Which is why I know you're not going to kill me." He took another step with his stupid cane.

He really thought he had an affect on her like before. It boggled her mind a little bit... He just couldn't grasp what he had created, could he? Well, maybe she'd have to show him.

The woman slowly raised her firearm up again, her finger making its way towards the trigger as she lined the barrel up with her target. She watched as his eyes grew wide with fear and shock. He was going to learn just what kind of monster he bred and the consequences that came with creating such a soulless creature. One of which was the fact that you can't break the beast and expect it not to rip you to shreds when you take your foot off of it's neck. That was his mistake: believing her to be fully breakable.

"Roźalia!" He shouted at her, his steps faltering as he watched her eyes begin to glow. They glazed over and were overtaken with a bright white light. Once the we're lit up like spotlights, he watched in horror as her once light brown hair began to glow as well, a lively metallic white color as it blew in the wind. It dawned on him then just how fucked he was before this beast. "Roźalia!"

BANG!

A single shot echoed through the manor as the silver bullet in her gun left the barrel, traveled the few feet distance between it's owner and it's target, and struck Ernest Sablinova in the chest.

The white-haired, silver-eyed woman watched as his eyes widened, his lips parted, and his blood began to blossom where she had shot him. Slowly, she lowered her weapon and returned it to it's holster on her hip.

As she walk towards the spluttering man, her heels made noise, much like his pathetic cane he still held in his hand. "Did I obey, father?" She spat at the weak man that slowly began to lower himself to his knees.

His eyes still wide with shock at the bullet lodged in his chest that was slowly killing him as his blood began to spew out. A small bit even began to trickle down from the corner of his mouth as he stared up at his daughter in horror. It felt good, being above him and watching him suffer. It made her wonder if this was how he felt for all those years he spent above her, tormenting her, making her suffer.

She watched as his lips moved slightly, signifying that he was attempting to speak. It took him a moment, but he eventually was able to form words. "Y-You... will never... b-be able to... wash away the blood... the guilt..."

Her chest tightened at his words, but she felt no remorse as her hand snatched the cane from his hand and snapped it into two sharp pieces of wood against her knee. "Well, then I'd suggest you save me seat for when I see you in Hell," she whispered before ramming the sharper piece of the old man's cane directly into his cold and broken heart.

She didn't need to watch his face to see the look of pure pain and anguish. All she did was listen to the cries and screams as she twisted the piece of wood further into his body. Another scream rocked his body, but she still didn't pull the makeshift weapon out of his heart until she'd heard every whimper, cry, and plea that she could pull from his bloody lips. Eventually, she heard him take his last breath, just as his warm crimson blood had trickled down the cane and onto her pale fingers. It was then that she pulled the wooden stake from his body and stood back as it fell lifelessly to the floor with a thud.

She took a step back and gazed down at what she'd done. Her hand was bloody from the cane and she could feel it slipping from her fingers before she let it just drop to the ground beside her. She was quick to join it as she collapsed onto her knees.

Once her body hit the ground, it was as if the heavy weight she'd been carrying for years regarding the guilt she had about her brother's family's deaths and all the deaths of the hundreds of innocent lives she had take over the years had finally washed away. Just like he said they wouldn't. He always was a pathological liar.

Yet... for some reason... she mourned him.

Tears began to prickle her eyes and before she could stop them, more came racing down her pale cheeks. But, why? She hated the old man. She wanted him dead. She'd wanted him dead since she was a little girl. This was what she wanted...

So, why did it hurt?


1986

It was a cold Winter morning in Banska Bystrica, Slovakia when a man in his late forties dressed in an all-grey suit with a long ivory cane, stepped out of his luxurious car and into the cool, brisk air just outside the entrance of a large school. The sounds of children laughing and playing in the courtyard nearby made his nose wrinkle, the man hated children sometimes, especially right now as he trudged his way up towards the entrance and walked inside.

It didn't take the man long to find where he was going as he took a sharp left into the Head Mistress's office where five young men sat in chairs lining the wall. Upon sighting the boys, the man came to notice how beat up and distraught they all looked. Their school uniforms were disheveled, torn, and ripped, large bruises and sore spots covered their arms, legs, and faces, and very distinct black eyes along with bloody noses seemed to be shared among the group.

The man pursed his lips, thinking hard as he studied the young men. Who could've done such a number on the poor boys?

"Mr. Sablinova," a smooth voice called out to him in perfect Slovak. Mr. Sablinova turned his head away from the injured group of boys to come face-to-face with the Head Mistress herself.

Mr. Sablinova stepped forward and nodded. "Madame," he greeted her. "Why was I summoned here today?" He asked as she led him into her office. Once inside, his eyes landed on the exact reason he was called int that school office.

Seated in the two chairs across from the Head Mistress's desk, dressed in their school uniforms, were his children. Little Henrik and Roźalia Sablinova.

Little Henrik had his head bowed, his soft brown hair he inherited from his mother hanging just above his face, blocking his father's view of the shiner on his cheek. And beside him was his younger sister, only a few years apart from him, her head held high and her chest boasted as if to show off the red scratch on her cheek with pride. Her father had an idea why as well when he glanced down at her hands and noticed the red and purple marks lining her knuckles. He began to wonder, had she beaten those poor boys to a pulp?

"Have a seat, please, sir," the Head Mistress requested of him as she too took a seat behind her large desk. Mr. Sablinova did so, taking a seat across from her beside his children, his eyes still lingering on his daughter curiously while doing so. "Mr. Sablinova," the Head Mistress began. "This has been the third incident in a trimester that something like this has happened. Your daughter has gotten into more violent altercations in a month than most of our boys do in a year. I'm afraid if this continues, I will have no choice but to expel the poor girl."

Mr. Sablinova nodded, listening to nothing the woman had to say as he continued to examine his young daughter.

So it was true. Little Roźalia had taught the young boys outside a lesson. Though Mr. Sablinova had not a clue why Roźalia had done it, he couldn't find it in himself to care. Something that felt like pride swelled in his chest, a feeling he only got when Henrik got an above average score on a science test on his exams or when Henrik made his first homemade microscope. But, Mr. Sablinova now found something to be proud of inside his daughter: her masterful ability to fight and survive. But, he wanted more.

"Do you understand, Mr. Sablinova?" the Head Mistress asked, bringing his attention back to the situation. "If your daughter continues this behavior, I will have no choice but to expel her from school."

Mr. Sablinova nodded. "Of course, Head Mistress," he said as his eyes remained glued to his daughter. "I understand completely. An incident like this will never happen again. You have my word."

When the children and their father returned home to their large and luxurious manor a few miles outside of the main city, their mother was the first to rush from inside, her sights set on her daughter as she smacked her lightly upside the head.

"You beat up five little boys, Roźalia?" She demanded. "I did not raise you to be a savage, child."

"But, Mama, they hit Henrik-!" Roźalia tried to protest, but her mother was having none of it.

"Silence," she hissed. "Both of you go inside and go get ready for punishments. Cleaning the manor for a week straight." Both children stared at her with wide eyes, their mouths opening to protest just as Mrs. Sablinova fixed them with her famous glare. The children immediately frowned, knowing full well they couldn't start an argument with their mother and win. They bowed their heads, mumbled a 'yes, Mama', and stomped inside the manor.

Mr. Sablinova watched his children in pleasure. He always knew he married his wife for being both strong, mean when necessary, and unbelievably beautiful, even when she was being strict with the children.

And Mr. Sablinova was even more prideful when both children obediently followed her rules and cleaned the Manor up and down until it was spotless – save for the few places they didn't go which the maids and butlers cleaned for them.

After the two children spent the rest of their evening cleaning, Mrs. Sablinova gave the kids their supper and sent them off to sleep.

Back in their shared bedroom, Roźalia sat propped up on their bathroom sink wrapping her knuckles in a fresh set of bandages. They were still bruised and sore and she had to clean them every so often throughout the day s it wouldn't hurt so much. But, it was fine. This wasn't the first time she had hurt her hands punching people, or that one time she hurt her foot kicking someone else, or even the time she nearly sprained her wrist throwing a larger rock at a kid taunting her an deer brother at school. It was safe t say Roźalia was protective of her brother.

"I didn't need you to fight them for me, Lia," Little Henrik exclaimed as he prepared his bed for the night; fluffing the pillows and ruffling the comforters. "I could have easily beat them myself!"

Roźalia hissed slightly from the pain she felt wrapping up the rest of her knuckles and jumping from off the sink. "I know, Henrik," she told him as she walked to her own bed from across the room, already dressed in her night gown and her long brown hair pulled into a damp French braid going down her back. "But, sometimes it doesn't hurt to have someone behind your back."

Little Henrik Sablinova sighed. He knew his sister was right. She always was.

Knowing she had gotten back on her brother's good graces again, Roźalia smiled. A smug one, at that, as she boasted slightly, dangling her feet off the edge of her bed, across the room from where his was. Henrik fixed her with a small glare, but was known not to hold grudges against his sister for long when she wished him goodnight.

"Goodnight, Lia," Henrik replied before they both blew out the candles on their nightstands, the only light shining in from the moon's light seeping in through the balcony window curtains. Both children bundled themselves up underneath the covers of their blankets and drifted off.

For Roźalia, it didn't take long for her to fall into a deep, peaceful sleep. She was always good at that, relaxing. She had a way about her that always allowed herself to breeze past things as if she were a leaf that somehow controlled the wind that blew her through life. She was always so sure of herself, her choices, her actions.

Henrik, on the other hand, had not a clue about who he was. At just ten years old, merely a year younger than his sister, little Henrik wanted to be everything she was, but found himself trying too hard t the point that it wasn't natural rather forced. Not to mention, his father's constant expectations of him. He was, after all, the next heir in the Sablinova family. So, naturally, he was expected to be exactly like his father, maybe better. Or that's what his father hoped for. For Henrik to become a renowned scientist for the greater cause. A cause for a better world. A pure world.

But, it was hard for Henrik to keep up. Mr. Sablinova knew he had lots of work to be done. But, for now, he had a different mission. One he knew was a lot different than what he had planned for his son. One he knew would help shape the future through his daughter. Or, rather with his daughter.

It was half past two in the morning when Mr. Sablinova slipped out of the comforts of his bed, his wife still tucked asleep beside him. Of course, he hadn't slept a lick. No, he was preparing; there was no time for sleep. There was no time for sleep for Roźalia either.

Mr. Sablinova was quick paced, yet quiet like a mouse as he trekked through the manor, dressed in a dark suit with gloves and a hat to keep warm. He had his cane by his side, but he wasn't using it to help him walk as he entered his children's bedroom. He paused for a moment, stealing a glance at his sound asleep son for a moment. Staring at the sight of the future. His future. A future with no conflict, no wars, no blood shed. It was a heavy burden to pass along, but Mr. Sablinova was sure Henrik could take it. He had to, to ensure that future.

Of course, it wasn't going to be easy getting there either. People would reject his message. Try to deny the world their right to peace and prosperity. But, that's what a weapon was for. To forcefully pave the way to their success.

Mr. Sablinova turned away from his son to glance back over to the second bed beside him. Roźalia.

Where Henrik would be the key to the future, Roźalia would be the weapon that paved the path to the lock. And she would be beautiful. It would all be beautiful. Both his children, side by side, facing the old world and opening up an entirely new one. And it all started with her.

The admiration that filled Mr. Sablinova's eyes quickly vanished at the reminder as his expression abruptly hardened. Suddenly, he found himself pressing his cane onto the edge of the blanket wrapped around his daughter, pulling it hard from off her body prompting her to fall off the bed with a yelp and a thump. Her eyes, squinted from the lack of light and from just waking up, she scanned the room frantically, her eyes finally landing on the shadowy figure of her father standing above her. "Father?"

Mr. Sablinova jabbed his daughter in the shoulder with the end of his cane. A small yelp broke from her lips and he hushed her. "Silence, Roźalia. You'll wake Henrik." Roźalia quickly clamped her mouth shut, silencing her protests and whines of pain or any further questions as she glanced over to her brother's bed. His soft snoring a clear sign that they hadn't woken him.

"Get up," her Father commanded in a harsh tone. "Get dressed and meet me in the garden within the minute." And with the final orders, Mr. Sablinova spun on his heel and made his way out of the room.

Still flabbergasted and confused, Roźalia wordlessly jumped off the ground. The pitter-patter of her bare feet against the cold, hard ground was the only sound she made as she quickly got dressed in a black coat, a scarf, a hat, some gloves, and some snow boots. She wasn't sure what else she was supposed to wear aside from her nightgown, so she looked a bit ridiculous as she stepped out of the manor's glass back doors into the cold frigid air. Her Father was waiting for her down in the garden beside the frozen fountain. The entirety of the backyard was covered in snow and Roźalia was hugging herself as she quickly made her way down the steps towards where Mr. Sablinova was.

When she finally got there, her Father stood to his feet and met her halfway in the courtyard. Roźalia opened her mouth to ask why he requested her presence outside when Mr. Sablinova suddenly raised his cane and whacked her on the side of the head. Roźalia gasped and fell to the ground from the sudden force. She lay on the cold, frozen ground with her gloved-hand covering the sore spot on her cheek where her Father had struck her. It hurt, but she could feel it already beginning to grow numb from the exposure to the cold air.

Slowly, Roźalia met her Father's gaze with beady eyes, tears prickling in the corners of them. She wondered what she had done wrong. Was it because she had beaten up those boys at school? "Father," Roźalia said in a broken voice.

Mr. Sablinova's expression remained hard and blank as he raised his cane once more, bringing it down to hit her leg. But, with a swift movement, Roźalia pushed herself out of the way, doing a quick somersault so she could land on her feet, looking up at her Father with wide-eyes.

Mr. Sablinova refrained from smiling out of pride. There it was. Her instinct to survive.

"Do you plan on dodging my attacks all night," Mr. Sablinova prompted his daughter in a flat voice as he took a step forward with his cane. "Or are you going to fight?"

Roźalia furrowed her eyebrow in confusion. Her Father wanted her to fight back? "Why?" She asked, despite herself.

Mr. Sablinova sighed before pressing the end of his cane into his daughter's hand, pinning it into the snow with a small crack. Roźalia gasped and groaned, her other free hand trying to pull her bandaged hand free, but having no success. She cried from the pain, but Mr. Sablinova pushed harder. "Because of those bandages, Roźalia. We are here to teach you how to properly fight. So that next time it happens, you will show not an ounce of weakness."

Mr. Sablinova raised his cane, releasing Roźalia's hand. She immediately picked it up off the ground and clutched it to her chest, tears falling down her face over the red mark on her cheek from where he had first struck her. Mr. Sablinova glared at his daughter. "No crying." Just then, the cane came flying back at Roźalia's face. But this time, instead of dodging it or letting it hit her, the young girl grabbed it with her uninjured hand and ripped it from her Father's grasp.

Perplexed, Mr. Sablinova took a step back, watching his daughter as she stumbled to her feet with the cane in hand. She quickly wiped away the tears on her face and fixed her Father with a conflicted glare. Unsure of whether or not to obey his commands and fight back or cry in confusion as to why he was hurting her. In the end, she dropped the cane to the side.

Mr. Sablinova let out a disappointed sigh. There was work to be done.

He bent down and picked up his cane again. Roźalia watched him with fearful eyes as he spun it in his hand. "Again!" He shouted before striking her in the side of her head with the cane again. Roźalia yelped again, jumping back and clutching her face. This should've made Mr. Sablinova stop, the sight of his daughter in pain. But it only fueled his needed to better prepare her for a fight.

He was relentless. Hitting her, smacking her, telling her she wasn't good enough. She might've felt as though he were tearing her down, but it was only so that when she was built back up she would be bigger, stronger, better. She was apart of the future. The future, pure and bright. The future that HYDRA had for the world.

A/N: So. This is Roźalia Sablinova. This story will be heavily based around Roźalia's character, but also her character's relationship with her father and brother in the many flashbacks as well as her relationship with others in the present because it deeply affects the outcome in MIGRAINE and in this story.

I guess you can sort of say that this is a prequel of sorts because it does explain how Danielle, Jack, and their mother get mixed up with HYDRA and it does start with the generation before them.

So, yeah. I hope you guys like it. It will be updated regularly, but it is not my main concern. MIGRAINE will be updated first, but I'm not sure when I'll be updating this. I won't be updating this story for maybe another month or so regularly because I want to try and write a decent amount of chapters first.

Anyway, lmk what you guys think about my new baby.