The Armorer

There's seven or eight of my neighbors; I can't quite see if there's somebody behind the bed of the truck on the other side. I can see men going after Cap, but it's the ones coming after me that worry me the most. That jerk who was asking all the questions about the salad bowl tries to take it away from me, but it's too hot and he falls back screaming, cradling his hands against his chest. Serves him right. I take a page from Cap's playbook and smack the next one in the gut with the shield. He falls over, vomiting. I'm beginning to see just why this is an awesome weapon.

But it's not meant for me; I sprint over to Cap and give him the shield; his arm is well-wrapped with one of the towels I use at work, so it's treated for heat resistance. I look around wildly but don't see anybody new coming through the forest; no new heat signatures, at least. I slide under my workbench and hit the self destruct button.

It's not as exciting as it would be in the movies; basically, it just triggers a big weight over the forge building, where the bad-ass solar panels are and where I stuffed my specialized equipment that I couldn't pack. The loud "crump" sound distracts everybody and I activate the defenses that are designed to irritate trespassers. I bolt for the edge of the clearing through all the chaos to where I left my pack and head out. I'm not a fighter, not since a fight with another girl in fourth grade, anyway. Cap is both trained and enhanced, so I'm not worried about him. I run into the forest.

It's not too long before the panicked sprint becomes a walk. I'm stronger and have more endurance than I did in the States, but metalworking isn't the same thing as cardio training. I try to wheeze quietly although I don't hear anybody coming after me or see any large heat signatures.

After the silence of the tropical night surrounds me again, I stop, have a drink of water, and check the compass in my watch to be sure I'm heading the right way. I'm closer to the Pacific than the Atlantic, so my goal is to get to the coast and head to Asia. I've never been, and as long as I avoid political hotspots, I should be able to relocate my operation. I can leave this country first and find a city, clean up, use a bit of the money from the Stark settlement for a hotel where I can get a bath while I plan my next move. This is sounding better and better. The next place I build is going to have a bath house.

I resume my trek, but I'm getting tired. The adrenaline surge left me worn out and I need a nap. I climb a tree, settle into the crotch of the branches, and close my eyes. I drowse until somebody says "Hi" from the ground below me.

My eyelids flip open and I look down in panic. I relax when I see the shield, still emitting a notable amount of heat. "Hey," I respond. I don't bother asking how he's found me.

I check the time; it's about half an hour before sunrise. I might as well move on, and climb down the tree. "So where are you heading?" Cap asks, and I summarize my plan. I eat a granola bar and sip some water. I need to be alert to food items as I walk; I'm not carrying enough food for the trek to the coast.

He nods. "Any specific reason you're going to Asia?" he asks, eating a granola bar himself. "Because if there's not, I have a friend in Africa who could help. You might not want to stay there, but you'd be safe while you investigated your options."

"It's farther to the east coast," I point out.

"Right," he says.

"I'm not much of a walker," I say. He just grins.

"It'll be good for you," he tells me encouragingly. Polite but tenacious, that's Cap. I think the map of the area over and sigh.

"Let's follow the river," I say. "We can take it to the coast, and there'll be more opportunities to find food along the way." It's not an insignificant consideration, and we head in the direction of the river. I'm not far off from where I think we are, and it isn't long before we're walking through the water. It's fairly shallow here and if anybody is tracking us, they'll lose us here. There's not much conversation as we slog along and I don't hear any noise of pursuit. We switch to the shore a couple of times, cutting across land when there's a big meander in the river or when the footing gets too uncertain. Toward the end of the day, we start looking for some place to camp. We talk it over and decide to risk a small fire.

I see what looks like a coffee can, discarded and caught up in some plants by the shore. It's not rusty, so it hasn't been there long, and we can boil water in it. I tuck it under my arm and turn back, just in time to see Cap striking something in the water with the edge of his shield. He leans forward and hauls out a pretty big, really ugly fish. It's a pirarucu, a type of catfish. Cap smiles when I tell him this.

"We'll have a good dinner," he says. "It's about forty pounds." We exit the river not long after when we see a likely campsite. I make a pit, build the fire and take a better look around to see if it looks like other animals might come by to challenge us at night, but it looks like we'll be ok, especially if we have the fire. Cap cleans the fish, coats it in mud, and puts it on the edge of the ashes to cook. I boil water in the coffee can and we use this first to wash up. I get another canful, let it boil, then pull it off to cool. The sediment will settle and we can fill our canteens for tomorrow. There isn't much conversation as we share the fish. It's pretty bland without any seasoning, but I'm hungry and don't really care.

I take the first watch and wake Cap when I'm too tired to stay awake. Aside from some rustling in the brush, we've been alone, and the fire has kept the animals at bay. In the morning, the sun comes up as we set off, having doused the fire. I fix the can to the top of my pack because you can't count on that kind of luck all the time. It's pretty tiring slogging through both the river and the shore, and once I sent Cap onto land when I felt some piranha trying to nibble. It's the dry season, and sometimes they can be dangerous. My skin is piranha-proof, so the most they can do is exfoliate a bit. Our luck changes a bit when we see a log floating past; we hang onto it and kick and progress is easier than walking. Faster, too. We pull it onto land at night.

It doesn't take too many more days to get close to where we want to be. We ditch the log and go to a fairly large town, where we buy some really delicious street food and clean up in a motel. It feels great to sleep on a real bed. So good, in fact, that I don't wake up until almost eight the next morning. I clean up, put on the clean clothes I had in my pack (the ones I washed out last night are still a little damp) and go out for breakfast. When I get back with a feast, Cap is up and we discuss our plans. We'll take a back road into the nearest big city, where we'll get another hotel room until we can get passage to Africa. It's going to be difficult because he's a wanted man. I think about this and go out again, returning with some temporary hair dye and self-tanner.

After judicious application of these products (I change the tanner around a little to make it look darker and more natural), I leave the hotel with a dark haired man with a good tan. The shield is the problem, it's big and bulky, but I've gotten some scrap wood and nails and make kind of a crate for it. It will break easily if necessary, but padded with grasses, it's not remarkable and a strap of rope on one side makes it easy to carry.

When we get to the city (we catch a ride for a good part of the distance) first we head to the port. The exit strategy is what it's all about. In retrospect, we should have gotten a motel room first, because somebody sees a big guy carrying a big square crate about the size of Captain America's shield and starts shouting. Somebody else grabs the edge of the crate and pulls it open. Then all hell breaks loose. Everybody wants the bragging rights and the money that comes from capturing Captain America. I hear sirens and know the police are coming.