A Taste of Vengeance

Third Person

Steve Rogers hit the punching bag savagely over and over. His hands were beginning to get sore, from the force that he was using, the rage he was feeling. Memories kept flashing through his eyes; the more that went by, the harder he hit.

It was harder than anyone could imagine, waking up and being propelled 70 years forward. Everything he had known, everyone he had loved was gone, just like that. They were dust in the wind and here he was, alive and whole. It didn’t seem fair- it wasn’t fair, that he had lost everything. The title of being the first superhero in the world no longer held the appeal it used to.

Steve hit the punching back with a savage right hook, knocking it clear off of the hanger. The chain had snapped easily, hitting the ground with a loud metal clink. He grunted in annoyance and picked up another, slinging it into the placeholder. He took his stance again, but a noise caught his sensitive hearing. It was the sound of feet against concrete, and it was coming from behind him.

“I can hear you, you know,” He said loudly, not turning around to see who his guest was. He didn’t really care who his guest was, not when he was in this mood.
“I would hope so,” a female voice answered behind him, amusement laced in her light voice. “I’ve been standing here for fifteen minutes watching you pummel that punching bag. You only heard me because I got bored.”

Steve turned around, newly interested in the intruder who suggested she had snuck up on him. A girl, about the same age as him and a deal shorter, stood in front of him. Her long dark hair was wavy and hanging around her heart shaped face. She was very petite in size, but a single glance at her and he could see the defined muscles and the lithe structure to her body. Her eyes were the deepest blue he had ever seen, and he found himself extremely confused as to why a woman who was shockingly beautiful, was standing in front of him, dressed in all black with a gun holstered to her thigh.

“You seem confused,” she stated. It wasn’t a question, but she paused, waiting for him to answer. He began to think he could guess at whom this was standing in front of him, after taking her in for a few more moments.
“Did you read my mind, to figure that out?” he asked her finally, hoping he was who he thought she was. A smile flickered across her face, and he knew he had guessed correctly.
“Just because I can read minds doesn’t mean I need it to know what you’re thinking.” She sat down in a chair across from him, her hypnotizing eyes never leaving him. “It’s written very clearly on your face.”
“Did Fury send you?” he asked then, ignoring her teasing. He turned his back on her and began to shove things inside his duffle bag.
“Coulson, actually, though it’s about the same thing.” Her voice was closer now, and he realized she was standing directly behind him. She did move quietly, as her profession allowed her to do. “You were angry, before I came in.” Again, it was not a question.
“I’m still angry.”
“We’re not so different, you and I.”

He laughed without humor at that and turned around to face her. He had found she had moved again, and was standing to his right, blocking the doorway. “You think we’re alike just because we’re a part of S.H.I.E.L.D and have super human strength? If that’s our linking factor, I’m sorry.” He walked and brushed passed her, hitting shoulders. The touch would have sent a normal man stumbling, but she didn’t budge.

“We’re both alone,” she called out behind him, causing him to pause. “You have no one. You’re alone in a world that you don’t yet understand, and you hate it. You hate that you couldn’t do anything to save those that you loved, whether it was by hands of an enemy, or by the wrath of time.”
Steve closed his eyes for a moment, trying to will away the anger that was rising higher in his heart. She had to be reading his mind. The Black Bane was infamous for finding her enemies weakness by delving into their minds, plucking every memory, thought, and piece of them, turning their nightmares against them. But were they enemies?
“Stay out of my head,” he warned, voice dark from annoyance.
“I already told you,” she said, softening her voice from her previous tone. “I don’t need to read you’re mind. And I promise I won’t unless you want me too- I don’t make that promise frequently.”

Steve turned around to face her then, and it struck him that maybe she had not been speaking about him, when she mentioned loss and sadness. The look in her eyes was sad, but like a burning at the end of a fire, the soft angry orange of coals. Steve remembered all he had heard about this woman: she was the daughter of Gregory Bane, a well-known scientist in S.H.I.E.L.D, and she was the niece of Charles Xavier. Her parents had died in an assassination when she was a young girl, and her mother’s brother had to raise her. It wasn't an easy life, especially when being a mutant made you a social outcast.

“What does Fury want?” he asked finally, deciding to hear her out only because he understood that they were alike in their loss.
“Do you remember the Tesseract?” How could he forget? He nodded his head. “It’s been stolen from S.H.I.E.L.D by the inhuman hostile Loki. Fury needs you to be a part of a team to get it back.”
“A team?” his voice was doubtful. “What kind of team?”
“An elite team is all I’m allowed to say. But on a personal note, I would feel much better if the great Captain America was by my side. You have a very… inspiring effect, if you will.”
He had to laugh at that. “Did you just call me inspiring?”
She ignored his question and said, “Your brief will be on the plane. Bring only what you need. I’ll see you tomorrow, Captain.”
She turned on her heel and began walking away, leaving him there, smiling. “Call me Steve!”