Dear Mr. Pierce… we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want to see us. As a brain, a prince, a loser, a basket case, a foreigner, an athlete, and a punk. Correct? So did we at 7o'clock.

The nauseous dizzy feeling Steve had as he started to come to suggested a concussion, the thick cotton ball feeling of his mouth and the unnatural heaviness of his limbs suggested drugs, and the cold slab of a raised up lab table and the heavy restraints that held him to it confirmed capture. He didn't even need to open his eyes to know this was Hydra's doing.