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One Man's Worth (previously Where there's a Will)	By : ChrisCross Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Captain America Views: 2399 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America or the Marvel'verse , I make no money, this is for fun only.

Chapter List
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            The moments after the capsule opened blurred together in a fuzzed out haze as Steve tried to adjust to the new him. He was given a T shirt now that they knew his new size, but his pants were too tight, the sharp crease flattened over larger thighs, and the shortness drove home the change in his height. Peggy was acting odd and his blurry mind wasn’t able to put together any idea why. His mind was still very fuzzy from the after effects of the almost therapeutic effect of the phantasmagoria scene. The bomb blast certainly snapped him out of that happy mellowness. With dreadful clarity he watched Abraham Erskine collapse as the bullet hit him. Steve ran to catch his mentor, and watched as the calmness of near death came over Erskine’s face. He had seen that look on his mother’s face, and this man he cradled in his arms was the closest he had to a father, and he felt orphaned a second time.   He had been tempted by revenge in the phantasmagoria, and rejected it, but here, holding a dying friend, he almost succumbed to it. Unable to talk, the German scientist poked Steve’s chest, the same motion he had done the night before, when he asked Steve to promise to stay who he was. At the time, Steve had been numbing himself, but he remembered the moment clearly, when he had been told that he was chosen for being a good man, and he needed to stay a good man, so he pushed away the revenge again. The elderly German man had accepted him, praised him, for who he was, and this bastion of confidence had been gunned down for giving Steve that, the greatest gift he could ever have received. The hot, sharp anger that hit him as he held the dying doctor pushed his senses into overdrive. He smelled the blood, the lingering sulfur stench of the bomb and the very light trace of schnapps on Erskine’s ragged breath. He heard the heart of his friend fade, the great heart that had been so good to him dying for that kindness. He raced after the spy and Agent Carter as soon as the older man stopped breathing. He wasn’t out for revenge, but he needed to face the killer of the man who had been like a father these past weeks, to look into the eyes of someone who would do that, and see what madness led him to it.
            Steve passed the bodies of MPs in the hall and the corpse of the grandmotherly gatekeeper. *Who does that? Who kills octogenarian antiques dealers?* Even if they are also covert agents guarding secret government labs, that was just wrong. When he caught that bastard, they would have words. The first thing he saw as he left the shop was Peggy, aiming her gun at a taxi racing straight at her. Without thinking he pushed her out of danger. “I had him!” was her outraged cry. He winced, thinking that was something he had probably said to Bucky more than once, to preserve masculine pride. Only, when she said it, she was likely stating a fact. Peggy Carter was a crack shot with nerves of steel, and she could do anything the recruits were taught, better, backwards and blindfolded. She proved it once on an obstacle course by doing the whole track that way, in her skirt and heels. It was unreal, like she had super-powers. Honestly, as he ran off after the escaping taxi to pursue Erskine’s killer, he was also running away from her; she was one scary lady if you irritated her. He hoped she would calm down when he caught the spy.
            The chase broke down in Steve’s mind into the parts that came easily, knowing the area and the streets, and the parts where he had no co-ordination. He was on his home turf, and knew these alleys and if that greasy assassin thought he could escape a native Brooklyn boy in his own Borough, the Germans had hadn’t done their homework on this job. On the other hand, his body was basically brand new. He had no conscious idea where his legs ended now or what his new, wider, turning radius was. If he thought at all about the improvement in his body, he reeled like a drunken elephant, crashing through a bridal shop at one point. Once someone had told him a joke about a centipede that lost the power to walk when he thought about how he operated that many legs. He didn’t remember the punch line, but he figured it was the same principal, and adjusted to the changes by not thinking about them, just like that joke done backwards. He leapt a fence in a single jump, and ran across car tops, and refused to ask himself how. The pumping rush of excitement, fear and anger helped him to block out the near impossibility of his actions. As he clung to the top of the stolen taxi however, he did ask himself if his luck had been improved too. The spy shot through the roof so many times, Steve lost count, but always missed him. He had once joked with Bucky about the crazy luck the heroes in the films had, getting the right clue, or blindly finding secret doors. They had called it the Heroic Improbability Constant. It seemed he now had a HIC factor too.
            As the taxi made a rough left turn, Steve’s body slid off the roof and he hung on facing the passenger door, looking at the spy. His eyes were glazed and his hair mussed, and he looked insane. As the German turned to shoot him, he lost control of the taxi, hitting a truck at speed. Even with all his improvements, Steve barely managed to leap free before the yellow vehicle rolled. The spy was pushing his way out of the wreckage, and Steve ran to intercept, stooping to snag the disconnected cab door for mobile cover from the wild shots the crazed spy was taking.
            Then, the wild eyed man did something that guaranteed Steve would pursue him to the bitter end; he grabbed a young boy. *Bullies, why is it always bullies?* Ignoring the boy’s struggles and his mother’s cries, the sweaty spy pulled his human shield along the docks. Seeing the gun at the child’s head, Steve knew he couldn’t let the boy be hurt, despite his need to catch Dr. Erskine’s killer. Instead, he stepped out with his hands raised. “Wait, don’t! Don’t.”
Gun raised at Steve, the spy fired, but with all the bullets expended in the car chase, the clip had finally run out. Instead, the man bought time by throwing the child he held hostage into the water. Thankfully the boy could swim, so Steve followed the spy, diving in after the submarine without thought. As he hauled the spy up, the stolen vial of serum shattered. Denied his original goal, the Nazi goon quickly bit off a cyanide tooth, foaming at the mouth as he spit out the words. “Cut off one head, two more shall take its place. Hail Hydra.”
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One Man's Worth (previously Where there's a Will)