Steven G. Rogers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thekidfrombrooklyn) wrote2012-12-21 08:12 pm
thekidfrombrooklyn) wrote2012-12-21 08:12 pm
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It hits him the moment Steve steps back through the door: the size of his loss, the finality of it.
He tells Peggy, in a bombed-out pub, over a drink that has no effect on him, "I'm going after Schmidt. I'm not going to stop until all of HYDRA is dead or captured."
"You won't be alone," she tells him.
The intelligence from Zola isn't heartening: less than twenty-four hours to stop Schmidt from bombing the eastern seaboard into oblivion. Morita studies the photos. "So what are we going to do? It's not like we can just knock on the front door."
"Why not?"
Every head at the table turns to look at Steve. He looks at them with determination.
"That's exactly what we're going to do."
On his motorbike, Steve rides through the gauntlet of guards and past the guard tanks and fortifications. He lets his bike explode against the gate while he fights off as many guards as he can hold, until two of them surround him with flamethrowers and dozens more hold him with their disintegration guns.
As he hoped, they bring him straight to Schmidt.
"Arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait," Schmidt drawls, "but I must say, you do it better than anyone. But there are limits to what even you can do, Captain, did Erskine tell you otherwise?"
"He told me you were insane."
"Ah." Is it Steve's imagination, or is Schmidt hurt by that? "He resented my genuis and tried to deny me what was rightfully mine, but he gave you everything. So." He studies Steve. "What made you so special?"
Stev can't help but smirk. "Nothin'. I'm just a kid from Brooklyn."
It gets him a punch in the jaw and another to the gut, but he was preapred for worse.
On his knees, gasping for breath, Steve says, "I could do this all day."
The Commandos' timing is perfect, as always.
They're racing to catch up to Schmidt's enormous plane, the Valkyrie, when Peggy cries, "Wait!" and grabs Steve by one of his utility straps. She kisses him, sweet and tender, but still it leaves him stunned.
"Go get him," she says when they part, and Steve looks at Philips, dumbstruck.
"I'm not kissin' ya!" Philips says and Steve remembers they're in the middle of a battle and prepares to board the plane.
It's full of torpedoes, each painted with the name of an American city.
Including New York.
In the cockpit of the lane, Steve fnally sees it: a small blue cube, the little mystery that's given HYDRA so much terrifying power. He hopes it's Schmidt in the pilot's seat, but as he tries to approach there's a sudden pulse of energy from behind him that blows a hole in the plane's fueselage.
"You don't give up, do you?"
"Nope!"
All around the enormous cockpit they battle, equally matched in strength and determination, until Steve throws Schmidt into the pilot's seat and the plane begins a nosdive. Then they're fighting gravity and each other, until Schmidt gets the plane level again.
"You could have the power of the gods!" Schmidt fires at him with his energy pistol. "Yet you wear a flat on your chest and think you fight a battle of nations! I have seen the future, Captain! There are no flags!"
"Not my future!" Steve grabs his shield and deflects one of Schmidt's shots, and then throws the shield at Schmidt. He falls the power source, knocking it open.
"What have you done?" Schmidt gasps and grabs the little glowing cube.
What happens next, Steve can't explain. The ceiling of the plane looks like -- well, frankly, the window to the end of the universe at Milliways -- as the cube glows and sparks in Schmidt's hand.
It's beautiful.
But horrible, if Schmidt's screams are anything to go by.
Schmidt disappears in a streak of light.
There are so many people he wants to tell goodbye. So many promises he made to always come home.
"I gotta put her in the water."
He can't tell Orpheus goodbye, and he's sorry, and he's... he's ready to say that thing he didn't want to say.
He says it to Peggy instead. Orpheus... Orpheus would understand.
He takes out his compass, the picture of Peggy hiding the drawing of Orpheus that he always has near his heart. "Peggy."
"I'm here."
"I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance."
"All right," Peggy says through the radio. "A week next Saturday, at the Stork Club."
"You got it."
"Eight o'clock, on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?"
The ground is approaching fast as the plane screams through the sky. "You know, I still don't know how to dance."
"I'll show you how." There's a desperate, hopeful edge to Peggy's voice. "Just be there."
"I'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your feet--"
To be continued...
He tells Peggy, in a bombed-out pub, over a drink that has no effect on him, "I'm going after Schmidt. I'm not going to stop until all of HYDRA is dead or captured."
"You won't be alone," she tells him.
The intelligence from Zola isn't heartening: less than twenty-four hours to stop Schmidt from bombing the eastern seaboard into oblivion. Morita studies the photos. "So what are we going to do? It's not like we can just knock on the front door."
"Why not?"
Every head at the table turns to look at Steve. He looks at them with determination.
"That's exactly what we're going to do."
On his motorbike, Steve rides through the gauntlet of guards and past the guard tanks and fortifications. He lets his bike explode against the gate while he fights off as many guards as he can hold, until two of them surround him with flamethrowers and dozens more hold him with their disintegration guns.
As he hoped, they bring him straight to Schmidt.
"Arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait," Schmidt drawls, "but I must say, you do it better than anyone. But there are limits to what even you can do, Captain, did Erskine tell you otherwise?"
"He told me you were insane."
"Ah." Is it Steve's imagination, or is Schmidt hurt by that? "He resented my genuis and tried to deny me what was rightfully mine, but he gave you everything. So." He studies Steve. "What made you so special?"
Stev can't help but smirk. "Nothin'. I'm just a kid from Brooklyn."
It gets him a punch in the jaw and another to the gut, but he was preapred for worse.
On his knees, gasping for breath, Steve says, "I could do this all day."
The Commandos' timing is perfect, as always.
They're racing to catch up to Schmidt's enormous plane, the Valkyrie, when Peggy cries, "Wait!" and grabs Steve by one of his utility straps. She kisses him, sweet and tender, but still it leaves him stunned.
"Go get him," she says when they part, and Steve looks at Philips, dumbstruck.
"I'm not kissin' ya!" Philips says and Steve remembers they're in the middle of a battle and prepares to board the plane.
It's full of torpedoes, each painted with the name of an American city.
Including New York.
In the cockpit of the lane, Steve fnally sees it: a small blue cube, the little mystery that's given HYDRA so much terrifying power. He hopes it's Schmidt in the pilot's seat, but as he tries to approach there's a sudden pulse of energy from behind him that blows a hole in the plane's fueselage.
"You don't give up, do you?"
"Nope!"
All around the enormous cockpit they battle, equally matched in strength and determination, until Steve throws Schmidt into the pilot's seat and the plane begins a nosdive. Then they're fighting gravity and each other, until Schmidt gets the plane level again.
"You could have the power of the gods!" Schmidt fires at him with his energy pistol. "Yet you wear a flat on your chest and think you fight a battle of nations! I have seen the future, Captain! There are no flags!"
"Not my future!" Steve grabs his shield and deflects one of Schmidt's shots, and then throws the shield at Schmidt. He falls the power source, knocking it open.
"What have you done?" Schmidt gasps and grabs the little glowing cube.
What happens next, Steve can't explain. The ceiling of the plane looks like -- well, frankly, the window to the end of the universe at Milliways -- as the cube glows and sparks in Schmidt's hand.
It's beautiful.
But horrible, if Schmidt's screams are anything to go by.
Schmidt disappears in a streak of light.
There are so many people he wants to tell goodbye. So many promises he made to always come home.
"I gotta put her in the water."
He can't tell Orpheus goodbye, and he's sorry, and he's... he's ready to say that thing he didn't want to say.
He says it to Peggy instead. Orpheus... Orpheus would understand.
He takes out his compass, the picture of Peggy hiding the drawing of Orpheus that he always has near his heart. "Peggy."
"I'm here."
"I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance."
"All right," Peggy says through the radio. "A week next Saturday, at the Stork Club."
"You got it."
"Eight o'clock, on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?"
The ground is approaching fast as the plane screams through the sky. "You know, I still don't know how to dance."
"I'll show you how." There's a desperate, hopeful edge to Peggy's voice. "Just be there."
"I'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your feet--"
To be continued...