Another oldie, seeing the light of day for the first time in a long time.
The title comes from the awesome song 'Radioactive' by Imagine Dragons.
Sizzling bolts of green light cut the air in half, nearly severing his head from his neck. Bending at the waist, Captain America folded over his back and the laser passed above him, the edge catching on the upraised star on his uniform. The metal shriveled in the intense heat, melted silver dripping across his Kevlar chest piece. When his robotic opponent took a moment to re-target him, he let his momentum swing his upper body forward, allowing his shield to fly from his arm with all the inertia in the motion. It swirled gracefully through the air, neatly carving an arc through the automaton before returning to his outstretched hand. Sliding his forearm through the leather straps, he scanned his surroundings. The dull metallic machines marched in formation and he calculated the most efficient way to dispose of the threat. As he sprinted past vehicles and buildings, a streak of brilliant red in the sky above him caught his eye. Iron Man zipped past, repulsors humming.
"Iron Man, head north and cut off their retreat. I'm coming in from the front and I want to make sure they don't escape. The offices on the west will provide a decent barrier to contain them but we should still keep an eye on that area for any possible breaks. And remember, their targeting systems take a second to re-adjust. Use that to your advantage," Captain America instructed, vaulting over the hood of a taxi.
"Copy," came the reply.
With a burst of exhaust, Iron Man altered his course and complied with the given orders. Knowing his teammate would obey his plan, Captain America focused solely on destroying the invading robot army in order to keep them from harming the citizens of New York. In a well-practiced dance, the soldier threw his shield, ducked enemy bolts and punched his fist through metal whenever the advancing hostiles came within range.
A few yards ahead of him, Iron Man was engaged in a shootout with a pair of the droids. He never saw the one behind him, turret poised to blast a hole straight through the red and gold helmet. A flash of light and the sound of metal armor clattering to the ground filled the street. His breath leaving him in hard gasps, Captain America held out an arm for his rebounding shield. It had been a close call. Iron Man quickly disposed of the androids before him and he dipped his head in a nod of grateful acknowledgement for the assistance.
The rest of their adversaries were defeated in the next few moments and soon the all-clear came over the telecast network and the city's inhabitants streamed out the doors of the surrounding buildings. Steering clear of the metallic debris, they sent up a cheer for their heroes. Captain America raised his trademark salute, which prompted another round of animated applause. Gradually the whistles and claps settled into a buzz of voices as the crowd chattered away on their nano-comms. Once the enthusiastic show of appreciation had sufficiently diminished, Captain America and Iron Man quietly slipped away.
Inside the Tower, the air was cool and clean. Removing his cowl, Steve swallowed several gulps of it. The contrast to the outdoor taste of gasoline and chemical plants made his tongue want to sing with relief. Carefully, he lifted the damaged chest plate off his body and lowered it to the floor.
"We're going to have to replace that again, aren't we, Jarvis?" Steve gazed down at it, resigned.
"Yes, sir," the computerized voice answered.
Rubbing a gloved palm over his cheek, Steve sank onto the couch. "Let's save that for tomorrow. I think we can call it a night." He glanced over at Iron Man, who stood stiff in the doorway. "Go ahead, pal. You can power down now."
The blue eyes slowly lost their gleam and the whirring of rotating joint gears settled through the living room. Like a complicated accordion or an advanced jigsaw puzzle, the pieces of armor slid together, interlocking and sliding underneath one another until the suit was a simple box resting against the doorjamb. Shutting his eyes, Steve tilted his head into the cushion behind him. A frown eased itself onto his face, gently sketching lines around the corners of his eyes, pulling the corners of his lips slightly downward and setting his jaw line.
Wheels rolled across the polished floor and a nudge to his leg encouraged him to reopen his eyes. Looking to the source of the touch, a soft expression fluttered in his chest. A tray laden with freshly prepared food was balanced precariously aloft, the mechanical arm of its bearer purring quietly.
"Thanks, Dum. E." Accepting the dinner even though he wasn't hungry, Steve received a pleased chirp from the little machine.
Satisfied that it had taken proper care of its master, the device rolled away to attend to the task of storing the Iron Man suit.
"Hey," Steve called after it. "You and Butterfingers didn't get into any fights while I was gone, did you?"
If the indignant beeping was anything to go by, they had done no such thing. Steve managed a small chuckle before he realized how disconcerting the sound was. It echoed uncomfortably through the vast room, swirling around the expensive furniture and knocking against the high vaulted ceiling. He shut his mouth and locked it tight, watching with impassive eyes as Dum. E. dragged the empty armor away.
In case it was unclear, this is set far in the future, when all the other Avengers have died but Steve's serum keeps him young and healthy.