Of Heroes and Myths

“I’m just saying, something is wrong. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s like the whole air has shifted, like a colder wind blowing in from the north. People say it’s just superstition, but I know it’s more than that. Trust your gut, and all that.”

Steve turned to look at Colonel James Rhodes. They were attending a benefit for young magical people who had been abandoned due to misfortune, although Steve had slunk away from the crowd. They stood up on the balcony of a lavish hall, where people with money decided the fate of those who had none. Steve always hated this side of politics. It was one of the reasons he sought refuge up here, but he couldn’t deny the presence of the Colonel. For one, he liked Rhodes.

“I don’t know,” Steve said, “in my opinion, not enough people believe in superstition.”

Rhodes huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well you’d be right about that.”

They stood in solidarity against the bureaucracy of overpriced champagne and monkey suits, Rhodes growing solemn next to him.

“I don’t know what’s coming, but I know it’s not good.”

Steve always felt dull dread against warnings like this, knowing he was inevitably going to be stuck ass deep in it, whatever it was, just like the last time. (And the time before that. And the time before that.) He offered the Colonel a small smile and gripped his shoulder.

“Whatever it is, you know you have me.”

“Yeah,” Rhodes agreed, but sounded like he was elsewhere. “Hey, Cap, can I ask you a question? I’d appreciate it if it stayed between us, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Has… have you spoken to Tony lately?”

“Stark?” Steve asked with a pinch of his eyebrows. “Not for at least a few weeks, no. Is something wrong?”

“Maybe it’s nothing, but that gut feeling again, man,” he said. “Something’s not right. He’s not acting like himself. He’s barred himself away in his lab, he refuses to see to his business, nobody’s even seen him out as Iron Man recently — it’s just weird. I’m worried about him, you know?”

“Doesn’t he usually bar himself away? I mean, when I stayed there, I wouldn’t see him for days at a time sometimes.”

“This is different. Trust me.”

And Steve did, because Rhodes was the one who had been friends with Stark for the past fifteen years or so. Steve only just met him last year.

“Just… if you’re in the neighborhood, and have a chance, could you swing by and check on him? As much as he likes to believe he can get by alone, he does need other people.”

Steve felt a faint echo of another person who said that to him once.

“Of course I will. Can’t have our fame alchemist lock himself away in his tower.”

Rhodes looked a little relieved, but still had a tightness to his shoulders. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’m gonna visit as soon as I can, but things like this,” he nodded towards the crowd of people, “somehow keep sucking me in.”

“Yeah.”

They stood there for a moment, watching the swirls of clothing along the dance floor. Eventually they did have to rejoin the crowd, much to Steve’s chagrin, dreading mingling and enduring endless small talk. But his presence was important. Being here was more than just about his discomfort, it was about helping kids who couldn’t help who they were and what they could do. People always love to talk about Stories, about the Heroes who rose up and got their own tale, however, they usually fail to see that children like these are usually the ones that are Chosen.

So many had been forgotten since Steve died, but not his own. Part of him longed to just live the rest of his life here in peace, but here he was. Mingling.

This wasn’t about him, he reminded himself again, and sucked it up. He passed from small group to small group, trying to keep the topic on the children and not himself or what he was planning to do with his life, since he never got his Happily Ever After. At least he’d gotten better at dodging and diverting subjects, now.

He made the excuse of getting another drink to get away from a particularly heinous group — this woman actually laughed at the orphans’ plight and Steve was two seconds away from punching her before he remembered she was giving quite a sum to the cause. So he grinned and bared it because as much as he wanted to do something about it, she’d rescind her money and Steve hated this dance.

At least he had an ally in the crowd, a blonde white woman in a silvery dress. She made a smart backhanded compliment to the other woman, and her pretty dark eyes glittered in amusement when they caught his. He ducked out quickly so they wouldn’t see his own smirk.

He was stopped again on his way to the bar, to his misfortune, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t exactly snub the Secretary of State and the Director of SHIELD. For one, the Secretary was the one throwing the benefit in the first place.

“Captain Rogers, it’s an honor to finally meet you,” Secretary Pierce said.

Steve took the proffered hand. “Sir,” he nodded.

“Nick here and I were just discussing how grateful we are that you’re back defending the world for us again. I for one certainly sleep better at night.”

Steve felt his insides turn to stone. Alexander Pierce either didn’t notice or didn’t care about Steve’s hesitance. Nick Fury definitely noticed, his one eye good staring intently at Steve, the other hidden underneath his eye patch.

“Don’t you sleep better, Nick?” Pierce said.

“I don’t sleep,” he said flatly, making Pierce laugh.

Where Fury, tall and always dressed in black, was all no-nonsense and intimidation, Pierce was welcoming and warm. With the wrinkles in his fair skin showing his age, Pierce gave the air of someone’s grandfather. The presidential election was happening this year and Steve knew Pierce was gunning for that position and garnering the trust of the people was the key. It was Fury’s, and subsequently Steve’s, job to ensure that those whose trust couldn’t be gained are either kept under watch or dealt with directly.

Okay, so it was technically more complicated than that. But mostly Steve just felt like someone’s attack dog.

As they spoke more, Pierce turned and something caught Steve’s eye.

“What’s that?” he asked, gesturing to a pin on Pierce’s shoulder. It was a circle about as big as Steve’s palm, but so clouded with rust he couldn’t make out the markings.

“Oh, this?” Pierce said. He turned to Steve, his eyes glittering like he was sharing a private joke, but this time Steve wasn’t included. “It’s an old family heirloom. My father gave it to me. He served in the 101^st, you know.”

It transfixed Steve, the urge to reach out to take it nearly overwhelming. He excused himself, not knowing where that came from.

He shook himself at the bar, estimated how long he could keep to himself before having to go back. The numbers seemed so depressing, it just compelled him to make a quick and stealthy exit rather than face the crowd again.

“What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?”

Steve glanced to his left, where a thin white woman sidled up next to him. She was stunning, wearing a long aqua dress that what covered in black lace that hugged her form, the lacy swirling up along her collarbone to cover her neck and shoulders. There was a slit along her leg that came up to her mid thigh, letting Steve peek at the impressively high black heels she was wearing. Her bright red hair was delicately curled and pinned up to the back of her head, her dark makeup accentuating her bright green eyes.

He felt a little bit of the weight of being in this place fall off his shoulders just from looking at her, like this was exactly what he needed to make his night better.

“I could say the same to you,” he said.

She smiled and ducked her head a little, looking up at him through long lashes. “I didn’t know you were such a charmer, Captain.”

The cacophony of the room faded to little more than background noise and he smiled. Charming. She called him charming. “Perhaps you haven’t seen me in the right company.”

“Oh?” She reached up and brushed some nonexistent wrinkles out of the collar of his shirt, bringing them much closer. “And what company would that be?”

Steve’s heart rate picked up. “Company that still hasn’t introduced themselves.” He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Was he — was he actually flirting? That’s what this was, right?

“How rude of me,” she said and huffed out a laugh. “I’m Natalie — Natalie Rushman.”

Her name was better than all of the music he’d heard that night. He couldn’t even quite remember why he wanted to leave in the first place. How would he ever leave once Natalie was here? Just the thought of her made his insides mush to jelly.

“Steve Rogers, but something tells me you already knew that.”

“I know a few things,” she said vaguely, sizing him up before continuing. “I have an idea.” Her fingers brushed down the sleeve of his arm to touch his hand. “How about I let you dance with me, and we find out more about each other?”

The word yes was on the tip of his tongue, yet it lodged behind his teeth. Natalie grabbed his hand to lead him to the dance floor but his body turned to stone and refused to move. She smiled, gently tugging his hand again in question.

“Next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”

“We’ll have the band play something real slow.”

It was like coming up from drowning. Someone had just tugged him above the waves, the noise of the benefit slamming into him all at once. He could feel her magic tugging at him, impossible to miss now that he was aware of it, the lingering taste of it sickly sweet in his mouth. He shook his head to clear the fog of its influence and scowled.

“No, thank you, I’m fine by myself,” he spat.

“Captain,” she said, holding her smile now only for show, “I have some very interesting information for you would if you grant me a moment of your time.”

“Well, Miss Rushman, you can find someone else interested in your information.”

“Captain Rogers,” she hissed between her smiling teeth and grabbed his arm to stay him. “I have very interesting information about some very uninvitedvisitors that may just make a mess. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we.”

She held out her hand and a waiter slipped a glass of champagne between her fingers right on queue.

This got his attention, at least. He studied her, trying to gage the amount of bullshit she was trying to sell him. Now that her magic was no longer clouding his mind (a nasty sort of magic, meant to beguile the unfortunate soul into doing whatever the magic user wanted), he noticed the little things — her stance was open but balanced, ready to move at a moment’s notice, the grip on his arm deceptively strong. He quickly swept his eyes around the perimeter of the ballroom. The wide-open space chock full of civilians and gaping windows made it a soldier’s worst nightmare in a battle.

“Why should I trust you?” he asked, not budging.

“I suppose that would be up to you,” she said as she sipped her glass.

Everything about her really started to drive Steve nuts. If the possibility of danger hadn’t required his attention, he’d have stomped away already. Possibly even asked her to leave the benefit altogether. He knew deep down that he couldn’t trust her.

And yet.

“Tell me what you know.”

“Maybe you should take me up on that dance first. Might give us some uninterrupted alone time that’s just so much better for such sensitive matters such as this.”

He ignored the double entendre and loathed to think of the tabloids tomorrow if someone leaked that he was dancing with someone, especially someone like Rushman. He really did not want to deal with the next couple months getting hounded by questions of this mystery woman.

“Tell me what you know in the next two minutes or I walk away.”

“Relax,” she said. “I don’t know who exactly, but I know they’re after someone very powerful and very invested in politics.”

“You just named over half the people in this room.”

“Did I?” she watched the dancers for a moment, sipping her champagne again. “I know the target is male, and that he would be very hard to kill.”

That cut down the list a little at least.

“Do you mean hard to kill as in, ‘they know how to fight’ or ‘they surround themselves by people who know how to fight’?”

She hummed in thought. Steve tried to hold on to his patience. “It certainly seems to be one of the two. Or even both.”

That’s it. Steve was done with her half answers and vague information. She was just trying to get a rise out of him than actually give him anything valuable.

“You’re two minutes are up,” he said.

Her eyebrows rose slightly. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“I believe you know a lot of things and aren’t telling me what you’re really after, so unless you want to be straight with me, this conversation is through.”

She had the gall to smirk like she wasn’t bothered in the least, or even like she expected this.

“Listen, Captain,” she said, setting her glass on a nearby waiter’s tray, “I really only came here to get a look at the Hero before he embarks on his journey. Two Tales? Well, aren’t you just the lucky duck.”

She made to slide past him but he grabbed her arm.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I thought my two minutes were over.”

He glared at her, unimpressed.

“Captain,” she said again. She was patronizing him. “Believe me or not. That’s up to you. But your shield will be behind the bar for when you need it.”

His stomach sank. His shield had been in his room in the nearby hotel, which in turn was under security that rivaled the White House. He hurried over to the bar, ignoring the looks he got when he leaned bodily over to look behind it. His shield was propped up against the cabinets, the bartenders stepping around it like it wasn’t even there.

He whipped back around, but Rushman was gone. The whole process had taken about twenty seconds, but he couldn’t find her in the crowd. He didn’t want to trust her about what she said, especially when she named him the Hero of a new story (but that was impossible, people were never true Heroes twice, that was unheard of), but he also couldn’t ignore the threat. Even if it was just her who was the threat.

He assessed who was in the ballroom, who would be an aid if a fight broke out and who would need to get out of here. His eyes eventually found Rhodes’, who must have read the urgency on Steve’s face for the next minute he excused himself from the small circle of conversation and made his way over. They stepped to the side where it was plenty loud enough they wouldn’t be overheard, but out of the way of the crowd.

“You looking a little tense there, Cap,” he said in way of greeting. “Everything okay?”

Steve quickly relayed everything that happened with Rushman. Rhodes hummed in thought when he was done, eyes assessing the room casually.

“There are a lot of potential targets in here,” he said. “I hope you realize that we’re also near the top of the list.”

“I’m not worried about myself,” Steve said. “Do you have the suit?”

“ ‘Do I have the suit’ — do you really think I would come to a benefit with some of the most powerful people in the U.S. without it? Statistically, this place is just some kind of accident waiting to happen. I give the signal and it’s here within thirty seconds.”

Stark, of course, had developed the armor in question about two years ago, which was heralded as the pinnacle of alchemy and science the world has seen so far. It certainly said something about their relationship if Stark trusted Rhodes with it, no questions asked. Still, thirty seconds was a long time for things to go wrong in the battlefield. This whole thing left Steve unsettled and wrong footed.

“I don’t like this. I don’t trust her, but she did grab my shield. As far as warnings go, that is pretty clear.”

“Yeah, this whole thing stinks. Hey, let me make a quick call to JARVIS. I can get him to compare the list of who’s invited and who’s actually here.”

Steve nodded. JARVIS was developed, again by Stark, and was the first truly functional AI in the world. Steve had his own opinions about technology versus alchemy and how both were used in this day and age, but he couldn’t begrudge them in times like this.

“Let me know,” Steve said before squaring his shoulders and heading back into the crowd.

Mingling was bad enough on its own. Mingling while on edge waiting for an attack that may or may not even come had to be its own circle of Hell.

In the end, they weren’t subtle about it.

Thirty-six (painful, excruciating) minutes after Rushman’s warning, an explosion ripped through the tall windows, sending glass and people flying. Screams and yells echoed in the large room as Steve tore through the chaos, trying to get people out of harm’s way. He hadn’t had time to grab his shield behind the bar, although he saw the glint of metal as Rhode’s War Machine suit flew in, the man itself jumping into it.

“Captain!” someone yelled. He turned, seeing the woman in the silver dress from before holding his shield a just before she threw it at him. He had a split second to wonder if she knew Rushman before catching the shield, shedding his suit jacket, and getting to work.

Six gunmen came in through the windows and Rhodes flew up to greet them. Steve took one out before leaving him to it, instead sprinting ahead of the people flooding through the exits. This attack seemed expertly planned for maximum chaos, and he suspected there were more men waiting to pounce on whoever escaped the halls.

The hotel security had split into two groups — those not assisting the guests were fighting their own. Anyone with a gun aimed at a party dress was quickly taken down before Steve could really consider the consequences of so many double agents in such a high profile event.

The fight was too easy. Diversion thrummed through Steve’s body as he sprinted back to the main hall, just in time to vault over a piano and slam his shield into a mage who was aiming straight at Pepper Potts.

Happy, Pepper’s security guard, came shambling over a moment later, blood running down one side of his face and his tux ripped open.

“Pepper, come with me,” he puffed.

“Happy! You’re hurt!”

“Go,” Steve ordered. “Rhodes will come find you after.”

Pepper nodded, the shock of events leaving her unsure of what to do. “Tony. I’m gonna try calling Tony again.”

“Come on,” Happy said, grabbing her and throwing up a small force field to shield her from stray bullets.

Steve stayed long enough to see them to the door before coming back to the center of the fight. Rhodes was having a hell of a time trying to both take down the gunmen and battle mystics (which the number had tripled in the sixty or so seconds Steve had been gone) and defend the scattered partygoers, although help from private security had come.

Fury had taken refuge behind some pillars, his gun out and firing at the men. Secretary Pierce huddled behind him.

These men, both with magic and without, while good shots, were weak when it came to close range fighting and were no match for Steve’s skill. They made up for that in sheer numbers and backing them into an indefensible corner. Fortunately, more private security came to their aid, knocking out a good chunk of them.

A scuffle came out over by the pillars and at first glance it looked like Fury was dragging Pierce away from a threat, but as Steve ran that way he realized that the two men were fighting over something instead. Steve decked one of the last remaining gunman in the chest hard enough to break his ribs while keeping an eye on Fury and Pierce, who Fury had pushed away forcefully.

A hush fell over the room, then, and Steve glanced around quickly to make sure none of the enemy men were going to get up after the fight. They barely had time to breathe before three shots came through the gaping windows and hit their mark — Director Fury’s chest.

Steve was over in an instant, dragging his bleeding body by the arm back under the cover of the pillars. Rhodes covered Pierce, moving him and the rest of the crew away from the windows.

Steve bent over Fury, who held onto Steve’s arm.

“We need to get you to the—”

“SHIELD’s been compromised,” Fury spat out. “SHIELD — they did — ah—”

The pain cut him off, but Steve understood him loud and clear.

“Don’t—” he coughed up blood while he spoke, “trust — anyone.”

He opened his palm and there was the Secretary’s pin, the one he had gotten from his father. Hesitantly, yet at the same time unable to stop himself, Steve took the pin.

A bright white light blinded Steve as something pierced through his chest, throwing him backwards. He gasped for air as he landed hard on the ground, the shock sent through his body paralyzing him as his chest caved in from the impact, ribs breaking apart.

“Rogers! We need to get out of here,” a voice said, hauling him bodily up.

“Shot,” he coughed, stumbling into the redheaded woman due to the pain and clutching his chest, “I’ve been shot.”

“You’re fine,” Rushman said as his brain finally caught up with who was next to him.

He stared at her incredulously — even with his accelerated healing he could still potentially die from a gunshot wound to the chest, just from organ and tissue damage if not from the blood loss. He took his hand away to show her just how much blood, only to stare at his clean hand.

He stopped dead in the middle of the hall, patting down his chest. His white dress shirt, besides being a little dirty, was blood free and completely intact. No bullet wounds or cracked ribs. I’m hallucinating, Steve thought wildly, though the pain lodged just next to his heart still felt horribly, startlingly real.

“Does anyone have eyes on the shooter?” the blonde woman in the silver dress called to them as she ran past to Fury. Fury, who had three very real bullet wounds to the chest and was currently bleeding out on the floor.

“Tell them I’m in pursuit,” Steve said without really thinking, ignoring Rushman’s protest.

And he burst through the halls, his lungs unable to breathe properly despite his insistence that nothing was wrong with him. It felt like an asthma attack, the pain that seeped through his bones and into his very core choked him. He caught sight of the shooter and swallowed his pain down, pushing himself to move faster.

Tearing through an office building, he finally caught up with the shooter just before he turned and started shooting again.

Even while running across rooftops, his aim was impeccable and he was fast. If Steve hadn’t had superhuman reflexes, he’d be dead, no two ways about it.

He swerved and ducked, moving closer, counting the bullets. There would be a split second where the man would either have to change guns or magazines, and Steve would be able to strike.

Except the bullets didn’t stop. He counted thirty, thirty-five, there was no way a gun would have that many — Steve was going to have to take a chance.

He threw his shield hard, hard enough that when the shooter caught in his left hand, he slid back several feet. Steve leapt over the small glass planes on the roof, a bullet nicking his side in the process. The shooter hurled the shield back and only narrowly missed as Steve twisted away in midair. He landed and kicked the gun out of the shooter’s hand.

Steve pulled back for a punch and threw his fist through empty air. The force of his follow through propelled him forward and into the space the shooter had been an instant before.

Steve stumbled to a stop, looking around wildly for the shooter, but he was alone on the rooftop. He ran to the edge of the building, breathing hard and irregularly, gazing out over the Washington DC skyline. The shooter must have some transporting magic ability, or some sort of ability using portals. Even shrouding magic couldn’t hide someone so completely, since the person remained solid and Steve’s aim was true.

He stood on the roof for a few minutes trying to catch his breath. The wound on his side had already stopped bleeding, although his chest still felt like it had taken the full force of his shield. The shock of before finally faded into background noise, and his mind worked overtime fill in what exactly just happened.

He needed to speak to Rushman. She knew about this attack, had warned him for some reason about it and he needed to know why. The double agents in the hotel probably didn’t know this shooter, or Rushman for that matter, but they would know who hired them. He would be able to work up from there to see who was really pulling the strings, and who, out of all the people who wanted Fury dead, had made this attempt on his life.

But he had to go to the hospital first. He needed to make sure Fury was all right.

With that in mind and with his breathing finally calming down, he yanked his shield out of the brick wall it was lodged in and headed back towards the ruined benefit.