Chapter 7
“Steve, you’re back early.” Jimmy says when Steve steps into the apartment, “I thought you’d be gone all weekend.”
“Sorry, my errand went faster than I thought it would.”
“That’s good. Lois and Clark just invited me to lunch. They want to go over some pictures of mine to accompany their article on the trial for the Neo-Nazis Superman caught. Come on.” Jimmy says. Steve would prefer to go over the names on the list, perhaps do some reconnaissance on some of the addresses, but Jimmy looks so hopeful and he’s been so kind to Steve… Steve tucks the notebook back into his pocket.
“Sure. Lead the way.” Steve says.
Clark and Lois are already there with notebooks and coffee when Jimmy and Steve get there. Lois is frowning as she writes and Clark waves them over with a smile.
“Jimmy, let me see your pictures.” Lois says before tacking on a greeting at the end. She flicks through them while Clark leans over her shoulder.
“What do you think of them?” Jimmy asks.
“They look good,” Clark says as Lois huffs. Jimmy frowns.
“You don’t like them?”
“It’s not the pictures. It’s the article; it’s missing its edge.” She says.
“A couple of bad people are going to jail,” Clark says, “This is a happy story, it doesn’t need an edge.”
“Every story needs an edge.” Lois says. She downs her cup of coffee and flags down a waitress to order another one.
“Well, I’m not a reporter,” Steve says, “but I did pick up a morning paper before I left Gotham and it looks like last night Batman busted up his own Nazi cell. And there’s a strong possibility that it’s connected to the one in Metropolis. Is that enough of an edge?”
“Steve that’s brilliant. I need to call the Gotham police and get a statement.” She says standing up. She throws some money on the table, “and witnesses, I’ll need to talk to them too.”
Clark also stands, “I better make sure she doesn’t bother the Gotham police too much. I don’t think they’re used to Lois’s Lois-ness the way the Metropolis police are.”
“Clark wait,” Steve says, “You know how to get in contact with Superman right?”
“Yeah, why?” Clark plays with his glasses.
“I heard that there may be more cells, possibly even in Metropolis. He might want to look into it.” Steve says. Clark nods, “I’ll let him know.”
That night Steve paces along the rooftops, searching the skyline for a hint of the red cape. The list is burning in his pocket, begging Steve to get to work, but Steve had really hoped to have Superman’s backup on this. He doesn’t need Superman’s help, but being part of a team, even a small team of two, felt nice. He really works best when part of a team.
“Evening Captain. You look like you’re waiting for someone.” Superman hovers next to the building, just a few inches away from the ledge.
“Superman,” Steve greets, “I was hoping you’d show up.”
“Oh?” Superman steps onto the ledge next to Steve.
“I had a very productive night in Gotham yesterday,” Steve says, “But it turns out we missed a few Nazis here.”
“Gotham? Did you take down Gotham’s Neo-Nazi cell?”
“I did.” Steve confirms, “Going after Nazis is kind of a habit. But since we worked so well together last time I wanted to know if you wanted in on taking down the rest of the Nazis.”
Steve pulls out his list and hands it to him.
“Where did you get this?”
“Batman gave it to me.”
Superman looks up, “You actually met Batman? What’s he like?”
Steve thinks for a second before answering, “He’s eccentric, but smart. I don’t think he’ll be inviting me back to Gotham anytime soon though.”
“That’ ok, you’re work is more than appreciated here,” Superman says sincerely. Steve beams as he reads the first name on the list Michael Fanwell. Batman has even been kind enough to add a few possible locations in sharp neat handwriting.
The first address lead to an empty storefront that looks like it’s been out of business for years. Steve would jimmy the lock so they could take a look around but Superman beats him there and instead pushes the door down with a casual flick of his wrist. Inside there are a few folding chairs and a table. No papers though and a fine layer of dust tells Steve that nobody has used the building since the first cell got busted. They don’t stay long, heading to the next address on the list.
The next address is a very nice house in a well to-do neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. The lawn looks freshly mowed and inside lights are shining. Steve lets Superman ring the doorbell, while he hangs back by the white picket fence. He feels a bit like Batman, cloaked in shadows and watching from the distance. An older woman who barely comes up to Superman’s chest opens the door and makes a surprised noise. Steve supposes that even in Metropolis it’s not every day that Superman knocks on your door.
“Superman! Is everything alright?” She peers around him as if expecting to see chaos and villainy on her quiet street.
“Everything’s fine Ma’am,” Superman says easily, “I’m just helping the police with an investigation and I need to speak to Michael Fanwell. Is he here?”
“Mike? Yes, but he’s not in any trouble is he?” Her hands flutter to her chest.
“I just want to speak to him.” Superman says. He dodges the question with a firm politeness and the woman nods. She retreats from the doorway. Superman stands illuminated by the porch light his cape fluttering in the breeze. Steve can easily imagine him standing amongst the Avengers, ready to save the day from world ending threats. Nat would tease him for being a boy scout and Thor would be thrilled to have someone his equal to spar with. But those thoughts lead him down the memory path of the infighting and the Accords. Would Superman have signed? The woman returns with a scowling young man, cutting off Steve’s train of thought.
He looks to be her son. Steve sighs. Another kid who thought war was a game. Superman wraps an arm around Michael’s shoulders and guides him away from the porch. His mother hovers by the door for a few moments, but under Superman’s reassuring smile she shuts it and goes back inside. Steve stalks across the ground and stands shoulder to shoulder with Superman.
“So what have you been up to recently Michael?” Superman asks. Fanwell shrugs.
“Answer the question,” Steve says tightly.
“Just hanging out with friends.” He says quietly. He has the sullen scowl of a teenager forced to come out of his bedroom and make nice with company but he refuses to meet their eyes as sweat drips from his brow.
“Would hanging out with friends include going to Nazi meet ups?” Steve asks. Fanwell’s eyes flicker to their faces. There’s fear in them, but he masks it with a disdainful glare.
“What do you guys care? It’s not hurting you.”
Steve feels a fire light deep in the pit of his belly. Not hurting him? Nazis hurt everyone. Nazis had killed, maimed, and traumatized millions. Nazis had stolen Bucky’s memories and turned him into a machine, a weapon, to be used and discarded. Nazis had built the bombs that had forced Steve to make a choice that would steal 70 years away from him. This kid didn’t know the first thing about Nazis if he thought they weren’t hurting anyone.
Superman sensing the tension ready to snap inside Steve takes the lead.
“It doesn’t matter. People are getting hurt and someone might get killed.” He says, “And The Captain and I are going to stop it. So start giving out names.”
Fanwell is a criminal used to scared bank tellers and little old ladies at ATMs, he’s never been in a firefight before, never faced down death and spit in its eye. He crumples easily under the combined pressure of Captain America and Superman. He gives more names, locations, and times meetings are scheduled. Steve carefully adds each one to his list.
They leave Fanwell pale and shaking on his front porch. He isn’t going to run and in a few hours when the police arrive to pick him up he’ll still be there, pale and shaking. Steve and Superman easily work their way through the list, most are young guys who cave immediately at the realization that they’ve caught the attention of Superman. A few of them are older, more deeply entrenched in their ideology. They shout their arguments at Steve and Superman as if they have any hope of convincing either of them of their abhorrent point of view. Steve is forcibly reminded of the German rallies he saw on news in the years just before the war. He wants to shake the raving man in front of him and shout at him, Can’t you see? This path only leads to death and destruction. But he doesn’t. He lets Superman tie them up and alert the police.
The sky is beginning to turn purple and pink. Soon the sun will bloom over the city, rousing its citizens up for another busy day. There are still too many names left on Steve’s list but he’s tired and even Superman is forcing back yawns.
“Meet tomorrow night to finish the list?” Steve asks. Superman nods. They part ways, Steve back to Jimmy’s apartment and Superman back to whatever life he leads when he’s not wearing a cape. As Steve crawls under the spare blankets on Jimmy’s couch he’s exhausted, but proud. The city is just a little bit safer because of the work he did last night. He hasn’t felt this content in a while.
It’s that stubborn belief that he’s doing the right thing that he clings to as his alarm rouses him three hours later. He takes a cold shower that does little to wake him up and pours himself an extra-large cup of coffee. He already knows from the experience that the caffeine won’t do anything for him, but the familiarity of the bitterness on his tongue makes him think of base camp with the howling commandoes and Bucky. All exhausted, but all righteous in their mission to wipe out Hydra and the Nazis and personally deliver Hitler to the gates of hell.
“Steve. Steve.” Jimmy waves a hand in front of his face, “Earth to Steve.”
Steve blinks, “Sorry Jimmy, late night.”
“Good for you,” Jimmy says clapping him on the back.
When Steve finally makes it to the office, after stopping for another black coffee, He’s pleased to see he’s not the only one who had a late night. Clark sits at his desk, head firmly resting in his hand not even bothering to pretend to listen to Lois. Lois on the other hand must have had an excellent night’s sleep as she is even more energetic than usual.
Steve feels a tug of heroism that forces him to his feet. He needs to save Clark from Lois’s wrath when she realizes he hasn’t paid attention to anything she’s said for the last ten minutes.
“Morning Lois,” Steve says, “You seem excited.”
“I just got off the phone with my contact in Gotham.” She says, “two more cells busted. By Batman. Someone even snapped a picture of him just after the second raid. And additionally I got an email from the commissioner of Metropolis police, apparently Superman was seen teaming up with the Captain to help make several more arrests. This story is blowing up beautifully. From a story about bank robbers to a whole network of Neo-Nazis living under our noses and now being dismantled right before our eyes.”
Steve nods along, pleased that Batman is taking this as seriously as he and Superman are.
“Well, I’m glad you’re story found its edge.”
“Yes, now if I can just track down The Captain. It would be perfect.”
Steve freezes, mug of coffee halfway to his lips. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Clark sit up.
“Why do you need to interview the Captain, you have an in with Superman.”
“I already took my statement from Superman, there’s no story there. Everyone knows why Superman is stopping Neo-Nazis; he’s Superman. He stands for truth, justice, and the American way. No, the mystery is who is the Captain and why is he spending his nights tracking down Neo-Nazis.”
Steve shrugs, “Concerned citizen? I don’t think there needs to be a deep reason to oppose Nazis.”
“Well of course not, but not everybody chooses to oppose Neo-Nazis by putting on a mask and running all throughout the night. And what is up with his shield?”
“What’s wrong with his shield?” Steve asks defensively.
“I saw him throw it; it does not obey the laws of physics. What is it even made out of? And where did he get it? And why use a shield? It’s a bit of an archaic weapon, don’t you think?”
“That…is a lot of questions you have for The Captain.” Steve says.
“Of course it’s a lot of questions, nobody knows anything about him.”
Steve sets his coffee down and leans against his desk, “maybe The Captain doesn’t want anyone to know about him. Maybe he’s just a regular guy trying to make his city safe.”
“By fighting crime under the cover of night?” Lois’s face is the picture of skepticism.
“I’m sure Superman is doing most of the heavy lifting,” Steve says. Lois is like a pitbull and he would prefer not to have her on his trail. He likes his life here. He doesn’t want Captain America to jeopardize it.
“Not according to Superman,” Clark speaks up, “He’s really impressed by the Captain.”
Steve’s jaw clenches, but he forces a smile, “I’m sure he’s just being polite. I really don’t think there’s an interesting story behind The Captain. Mark my words; he’s going to turn out being just an average guy with nothing special about him at all.”
The last sentence stings with the truth that Steve has never been able to escape. He’s not special. It was luck that led him to cross paths with the good doctor and his serum. He’s just a normal kid from Brooklyn who wanted to do his part to make the world a better place. That’s all he’s ever wanted to be.
“Well, I disagree.” Lois says.
“And so does Superman.” Clark adds.
“And you can read all about what a fascinating person The Captain is when I finally get my interview.” Lois says, strutting off argument won. Steve finishes his coffee with a small smile that he keeps for the rest of the day.