Chapter Title: Destined by Angels
Author: Sam and Dani
Story: The Omega Trials: 01 of ?
Series: The Omega Rights (part two)
Rating: M: M/M Slash, Violence, Sex, Language
Pairing: Steve Rogers/ Bucky Barnes
Summary: Who would have thought that an innocent kiss on a hot summer's day would rock the world 83 years later?
Spoiler: Yes, all thirteen movies of The Avengers film-line up, but, mainly Captain America: The First Avenger, The Avengers, and Captain America: Winter Soldier. This takes place after Thor: the Dark World, but does NOT incorporate the 2015 or 2016 movies, thus Avengers: Age of Ultron and Captain America: Civil War have not happened in this story, though there may be spoilers and references to either of these movies, as well as others in the timeline.
Category: Action; Angst; Romance
Settings: AU: Omegaverse: Earth, various locations: 1930 to 2014, various dates
Disclaimer: I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership of these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story, and most likely not a story any of them would have written, had they had the time or no. I am making no money from this and it is just for my entertainment and that of free entertainment to a select group. Thank you. (For full Marvel Avengers' Film-line disclaimer, see bottom note.)
Distribution: Please ask first?
Note: This contains sexual exploration between two teenagers. Also, the timeline for Steve and Bucky is matched to the Cinematic 'Verse.
Author's Note: Having seen several different 'lists' of Steve's illnesses pre-Serum, I am basing mine on the list I screen captured in the first movie. His father died in WWI of mustard gas, and his mother died when he was 18 of tuberculosis. Here is Steve's health list from his fifth enlistment and what it means:
- Right and Left ear discharge (wax in the ears - perfectly normal for most people in fact)
- Scarlet Fever & Rheumatic Fever (actually both diseases are based in Strep and are generally similar)
- Asthma (air can get in but not out, and without medications in the 30's and 40's, this can be deadly more often than not)
- Sinusitus and Chronic or Frequent Colds (can be related to either the Asthma or to the Rheumatic Heart Disease)
- High Blood Pressure, Palpitations or Pounding in the Heart, Easy Fatiguability, Heart Trouble (all related to the Rheumatic Heart Disease- I watched my dad with the same condition my entire life before his death)
- Nervous Trouble of Any Sort (I have been informed that back then Asthma was considered a mental condition and that this may refer to the Asthma)
- Household Contact with Tuberculosis (mother died of this)
- Parent or Sibling with Diabetes, Cancer, Stroke, or Heart Disease (probably his parent had Rheumatic or Scarlet Fever as well)
Feedback: Yes, please, especially constructive.
xxx
Translations:
Dyna chi? - Is that you? - Welsh
Mam - Mother - Welsh
Lladron - Thieves - Welsh
fy ngwdadwriaeth - my sweetheart - Welsh
Tata - Dad - Polish
Da - Daddy - Gaelic (Irish)
Momma - Mama - what Steve calls his mother in the comic books
xxx
Setting: AU: Saturday, February 8, 1930: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America
What most people would remember about the morning was the bitter cold wind cutting through wool and fleece, promising ice and snow by evening. The stinging air stole the breath away, and few people dared to venture out of the questionable radiator or coal stove heat to challenge winter's wrath. Unfortunately, there were those who had to brave the freeze for various pressing reasons.
One such desperate soul, a twelve year old boy with dark brown, loosely curled hair and unusual blue-grey eyes, strode determinedly down the wide street. He had dressed as warmly as possible, face buried in a thick woolen scarf, hands protected by stiff woolen mittens, and head covered by an over-sized woolen hat with loose dangling ties. In addition to the heavy rubber galoshes pulled over his regular shoes, the boy wore stiff, thick trousers, shirt, vest, and over coat.
Despite his gloves, James Barnes had his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his coat, trudging one foot in front of the other as he made his way home from Saint Mary's hospital. His father had been injured at his loading job on the wharf, and the rather poor income of their not so small family had just taken a serious decrease; though Bucky, as his father called him, had to admit that George Barnes's boss had been rather nice to offer a severance pay to the dedicated worker of twenty years.
But that small amount of money would not last long if George didn't recover full use of his leg, and since the drop in something called stocks back the previous October had apparently thrown the entire country into an economic hardship, Bucky didn't quite see how their family of six would survive the winter. Jobs had gotten scarce since the run on the banks seized up so much of the country's ready cash.
Heaving a sigh, the twelve year old kicked at a chunk of hard frozen snow, watching it skitter sluggishly over the uneven road surface. His father had said that Bucky could find work once he turned thirteen next month as long as he continued to do well in school, but if a grown woman like his Mam, who'd even attended a full year at Brown University before leaving school to marry his former Army soldier father, couldn't get a paying job - - who'd want to think of hiring a school boy like Bucky?
He kicked another chunk of ice then froze at the sound of voices down the alley next over.
"I can do this all day," a child's voice ground out, low with warning, answered by a masculine teen's voice jeering "won't have to if you just give it up, Mick." The sound of hard fists striking flesh echoed after.
Frowning, Bucky slid carefully to the alley entrance and peered around the brick wall onto a puzzling scene: a boy maybe his own age stood wavering on his feet, one eye already swelling, cuts and red welts on his exposed face. He wore no hat on his golden hair or gloves on his balled fists, and his dark grey scarf hung dejectedly from one shoulder where it remained steadfastly tucked into the collar of his overlarge Army peacoat. The thin blond had apparently been beaten quite thoroughly already by the two larger teens backing him into a corner, but the determined stance of their victim proclaimed he still had fight left in his small body.
"Two against one?" Bucky drawled, stepping out to block the entrance of the alley. He felt fighting mad about his father's injury anyway, so this looked like an ideal way to let off steam before getting home and telling his Mam, Winifred Barnes, the bad news. The brunet slid his mittens off, letting them dangle by the string attaching them to his coat sleeves, and lifted his own fists in mute echo of the blond. "Unless of course you lot are the ones getting roughed by him?" He stressed the word in a tone of derision; the blond looked like a strong breeze would toss him into the nearby garbage cans.
The blond straightened his back and shot a look of gratitude to his rescuer, though he felt he probably could have finished this fight on his own . . . maybe. Steven Rogers had been on his way to the local grocer's with his mother's hard eared money and a small list for their weekly needs when he'd been roughly grabbed and thrust into the alley. The bigger, older of the pair of attackers had threatened him with a beating if he didn't hand over the dollar ten he carried, and the other, stockier dark-haired boy had gone on to demonstrate their intentions when he'd grabbed Steve's old felt hat and jauntily slid it on over those lank jet black locks. An only child of a war widow, Steve wasn't about to let these muggers bully him and his Momma out of Sarah Rogers's hard earned nurse's pay. Instead, he'd fought back against every blow, every kick, hoping to give as good as they had . . . because the pair had given him a rather vicious beating within two minutes of accosting him. It was with no small hope Steve heard the third boy challenge the duo, and that cocky voice and hard stare infused the flagging Steve with renewed energy to match his determination not to lose his Momma's food money.
The slightly chubby older teen with tight brown curls and even tighter sneer turned to the new threat. As if by some unspoken signal, the two thieves launched themselves at the unmatched pair of exhausted blond at the dead end and rather fresh brunet at the open end of the alley.
They near literally had their asses handed to them as some might say . . . and in a matter of less than a minute.
Steve bent down and plucked his battered hat from the ground by the semi-conscious dark-haired assailant, brushing it off then slipping it back onto his pale-colored hair. He straightened and turned a thankful look on his helper . . . and Bucky nearly collapsed on meeting those impossibly blue eyes.
"Thanks," the blond wheezed slightly, hoping to the Lord his asthma didn't seize his lungs completely in the bitter cold air.
With a shrug, the brunet said "any time." He paused, forcing his eyes away from those clear vibrant blue ones, and added, "Hey, I live next block over. Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"
Blinking slowly, the battered eleven year old replied, "I gotta do the shopping for Momma."
"Oh."
A small silence ensued interrupted by a groan from one of the losers on the ground. Rolling his eyes, the brunet carefully threw an arm around the weary blond and said "name's Bucky Barnes. We'll get you cleaned up then I can go with you to get your Mam's groceries. You use Old Man Everton's place?"
"Yeah, we do," came the reply. "Steve Rogers," and the blond offered a pained grin along with his swollen, skinned hand. They shook and Steve added, "Okay, let's get cleaned up . . . Bucky."
Bucky laughed. "See, I knew you had sense, Stevie." He led the battered boy from the alley towards his family's tenement building nearby. "You know, most guys would've let them have the money."
Steve shrugged then winced. "It's all we got. And I don't like guys like that - - bullies or thieves or . . ." he changed what he was saying. "Most guys might've walked away from a fight that wasn't theirs."
"Yeah?" Bucky carefully guided Steve to the steps of his tenement. "Well, I don't like guys like that either." At the top he pushed the door open and let Steve go first, securing the old door behind them against the bitter February cold. Turning to Steve, who waited patiently just inside the door, Bucky slipped him a grin and gestured left-handed up the stairs. "Third floor, if you think you can make it."
Looking up at the faded wooden steps, Steve nodded. "I can make it." He set a foot on the first step and paused, right hand tracing a bright blue line almost the color of his own eyes. It started at waist height to a full adult, right where the inside rail might be if there had been one, and it led steadily from front door up the stairway. He touched the painted line. "What's this, Bucky?" Steve, an artist at heart even if his mother couldn't always spare the pennies for paper or pencils, felt an affinity for the cheerful paint in the otherwise drab brown and grey hallway.
"Huh?" Bucky looked over then shrugged. "I painted that for my sister, and the landlord, Mr. Henesy, said it was all right." He started trudging up the steps, letting his new friend lead the way. "She don't think so good on her own, little Gracie, and gets lost when she comes downstairs. So I painted her a line to follow so she can get home. She can follow it up to the proper floor and the right apartment."
Shooting a delighted smile at Bucky, Steve began following that guiding bit of blue. "That's pretty smart," he said. "So she'll never get lost if she's here." He'd met a kid who couldn't think too well before . . . a boy with odd-shaped eyes and a sweet smile whose father had been in the 107th Infantry with his own Da. That boy, Job, wasn't allowed to go anywhere without his Momma, and Sarah had said the McMillans were talking about putting Job in a special asylum for the mentally dull since they had six other kids and no time to care for him any more, with both of them working. Steve didn't like the idea of families having to do that. He said "I'm thinking Gracie's got a pretty smart brother to take care of her."
Bucky's sudden smile was so sweet it made Steve's heart ache a beat or two, and he returned the smile with his own.
"Yeah, well, Mr. Stygar in 3B says she should be sent to a hospital for idiots," Bucky frowned. "Tata won't even think on it. He says God gave Gracie to us for a reason, so we'll take care of her like He intended." When they got to the second floor, he asked, "so, did your father teach you to fight, Stevie?"
Following Gracie's line, hand light over the bright paint, Steve shook his head. "Nah. My Da was killed in the war before I was born. Momma has his letter from the Army and his name discs."
Swallowing at the sudden knowledge, and the following idea of possibly having never know his own military father in similar circumstances, Bucky practically whispered, "did he know about you?"
The blond stopped at the top step and turned a smile on Bucky. "Yeah. As soon as Momma figured it out, she wrote him that he was gonna be a Da. She's got a couple of letters from him about me, too." Turning back to continue to the third floor hallway, Steve followed the blue paint until he reached apartment 3F where the vivid color stopped right next to the doorknob.
"And here we are," Bucky said. "End of the line . . . home." He reached around Steve to twist the knob, swinging the door open. "Mam, I'm home!" he called over the noise of three little girls and a tall brunet woman all singing merrily as they did laundry . . . or at least the woman and two elder girls did the laundry, scrubbing in the large wash bucket, wringing the heavy wet cloth, then draping things on the rope strung across the living space of joined living area and kitchen. The third and youngest girl sat dressing and undressing a rag doll in a hand-stitched formless dress, her voice sweet and pure as she mimicked the others.
"Jimmy, dyna chi?" the woman stopped singing to call out, turning from the cloths wringer with a wide smile that resembled Bucky's. She seemed surprised to come face to face with Steve instead.
"Yeah," Bucky stepped around his friend to show his mother he'd come home. "It's me. See what Saint Dominic Savio sent us?"
Back stiffening at being referred to as a juvenile delinquent, Steve turned and hissed, "Jerk!"
Bucky grinned back remorselessly, "Punk." He then turned back to his mother. "Some lladron tried to take his grocery money. I said he could clean up here, and I'd shop with him in case he needs help carrying. Oh, this is Steven Rogers. Stevie, my Mam, Winifred Barnes. That's Becca," he gestured to the eldest girl then the middle, "Rose . . . and this is fy ngwadwriaeth, Gracie." He blended his mother's Welsh with English fluidly as he scooped up the six year old with almond-shaped silver eyes and long auburn hair. Turning to Steve with a grin, he realized by the puzzled look that his new friend mustn't understand the language of Winifred's father. "Uh, I said she's 'my sweetheart' . . . in Welsh."
Steve's face lit in a smile that appeared so angelic Winifred drew in a gasp. The blond boy said "it's a real pleasure to meet you, Ma'am, and your daughters. Welsh? Isn't that from . . ." he thought then said, "Wales . . . near England?"
Winifred nodded smiling. "Yes. My father's Welsh and my mother Irish, but they live back in Dublin." He accept sounded musical.
"Irish? My Da was Irish," Steve offered, "least ways, his people were Irish."
"Oh!" Bucky suddenly remembered his own father and the bad news. Smile fading completely, he said, "I took Tata his paper, Mam, and his doctor said he ain't doing so good. Mister Herndon laid him off with a couple of weeks pay." Taking a breath he added, hopeful she'd agree, "he said I could look for work if I keep my grades up, Mam, in the spring . . . once I'm thirteen."
Apparently, Winifred wasn't about to question her husband's decisions in his absence because she nodded. "If you keep your grades up, then. Becca, get Stevie a wash cloth so he can clean off that blood. Are you in much pain, Stevie?" she dried her red, chapped hands on her apron and walked over to the blond, carefully lifting his chin with work-worn fingers to study the black eye and rising bruises.
He refused to pull his chin away from her grasp so answered verbally, "No, Ma'am, not much, thank you." Thinking to stop the woman from worrying about him, especially seeing as she had so much else to worry about, Steve tacked on "My Momma's a nurse, Ma'am. She'll see to me when I get back from her errands."
Winifred's pale blue eyes seemed to light up and she asked "a nurse? An educated woman then . . . good." Bucky's mother let Steve's chin go and turned to Bucky. "Jimmy, be sure to walk him all the way home so you can tell his father he was defending himself instead of picking fights."
Becca approached Steve and began washing his face and hands gently with a warm, damp cloth.
With a nod, ignoring Becca, Bucky put little Gracie down next to the nine year old Rose. "I'll be sure to tell his Mam. He's got no father . . . died in the war."
The woman turned to look Steve over then nodded. "Lost a lot in that God-forsaken war. Bless you, Stevie. Does your Mam need someone to help around the house? I can send Becca on Saturday afternoons and ask only for her dinner in return. I can even send Jimmy over to help do chores if she's willing to feed him a bit after school. Doesn't eat much, our Jimmy, but a hard worker just the same."
Surprise raced through Steve and he smiled at the very generous offer, his memory playing images of his exhausted mother through his mind. At the moment some of the ladies from the parish took turns helping Sarah with the cleaning since she was so tired and Steve wasn't always well enough to help out, but his mother always said she felt guilty they wouldn't let her give them anything back. The Rogers family didn't have much, but they weren't above helping others or repaying a debt. The parish ladies said there was nothing to repay, they did it out of Christian goodness, but that never sat well with Sarah since they refused her offers of similar help. "I'll ask her, Mrs. Barnes. Thank you!" He turned his smile on Becca, too, and the eleven year old beamed back at him, apparently not the least shy like some girls.
"Well, all clean now," the auburn haired girl said, sticking a bit of plaster over the skinned knuckles of Steve's right hand then stepping back with a nod. She turned and rinsed her bloody cloth in the sink. "Better get your errands done now, Steve." She lifted her hands in a shooing motion at the boys, driving them towards the door of the apartment. "Go on, Jimmy. Don't forget to bundle up."
Bucky laughed as he and Steve hurriedly redressed for the bitter cold, though neither had taken off their coats or kicked off their galoshes. They left before Becca could scold them further. "Sorry, Stevie," Bucky continued to chuckle, "she acts like she's the Mam sometimes."
'S'alright," Steve chuckled in return. "Must be nice to have sisters. I'm the only one back home." Tilting his head a bit, Steve looked at Bucky, left hand going unconsciously to the back of his neck and scratching under his hat at his hairline. "She called you Jimmy?" His voice showed his curiosity at Bucky's other name.
"Yeah," Bucky confirmed. "Only Tata calls me Bucky, really . . . and Gracie. My full name's James Buchanan Barnes, so Jimmy for James and Bucky for Buchanan." He turned his grin to Steve as the blond dropped his hand and lightly traced Gracie's blue paint line down the steps.
"Oh," Steve looked back towards his new friend, "uh, my middle name's Grant."
Laughter continued to escape Bucky at that, and he had to hold the outside stair rail so he wouldn't trip. "So, we're both named for presidents!"
A hesitant chuckle bubbled up then Steve joined in the enthusiastic laughter. "Yeah, I guess so. But actually, it was the fact that Grant was the general who won the Civil War that made my Da pick his name out for me. If I'd been a girl, I'd have been Stephanie Victoria, Momma said."
"Nice," the brunet snickered, earning a soft punch to the arm from the blond.
They walked in companionable silence down the rest of the stairs and out into the freezing afternoon. When they were almost at the grocer's, Steve asked, "Uh, Bucky? You call your Da 'Tata?' Is that Welsh?"
"Nope," Bucky replied. "It's Polish. My Tata's father was Polish, but Tata was born here in America. He was born Jerzy, but everyone calls him George. He talks Polish most of the time, though." He grinned over at Steve and added. "In fact, when my grandfather came over, the Immigration Official changed his name from Barna to Barnes 'cause he said 'you're in America now, man, you need an American name.' My grandfather just accepted it so my father became the first actual Barnes in the family."
"Wow!" Steve breathed. "I think my Da's name was always Rogers, but I never thought to ask Momma if it got changed when his grandparents came to America. Do you speak a lot of Polish, too?"
With a nod, Bucky said "yup. I speak Polish and Welsh and Gaelic. My neighbor from 3C, Mrs. Enescu, is teaching me Romanian on Wednesdays, too. Mam says I have her ear for languages and thinks I might work for the government or military someday."
"Wow," Steve repeated.
When the boys arrived at Everton's Grocery, the old man beamed at the pair as if they had just given him some sort of present. "I thought you boys might know each other, what with living only three blocks one from the other." His bushy eyebrows shot up as he fully looked at Steve. "Oh, ho! Been fighting, Steven?"
The blond sighed. "Someone tried to take the grocery money, Sir. Bucky helped me stop them."
"Bucky is it?" The man laughed. "Well, Jimmy, if you keep helping your friends, I'll call you whatever you want."
Shaking his head, Bucky laughed. "Jimmy's fine, Sir. Me and Steve just met today," he looked at his new friend, "but it feels like we known each other forever, don't it, Stevie?"
Offering a nod, Steve agreed. "Yeah, maybe we knew each other before the Angels sent us down?" He didn't even flush at his own fanciful imagery, somehow knowing this other boy would understand. He wasn't disappointed as Bucky nodded his agreement.
"Old souls, those're called," Mr. Everton informed them. "You pair are meant to be together." He took Sarah's list from Steve and started gathering the items for him, leaving the pair of boys next to the wood stove. He continued to talk; however, "you mark my words, boys, someday your lives will rely on this old friendship."
The boys shared a look of amusement but didn't argue. Neither felt any inclination to refute such a grand claim. And both, secretly, liked the colorful idea that they had been friends before the Angels put them on Earth and would remain friends for the rest of eternity.
After all, who could argue with Angels?
xxx
To be continued in Chapter Two: Boys will be Boys
xxx
Full The Avengers Film-line Disclaimer:
1) Iron Man was written by Stan Lee, Don Heck, Larry Lieber, Jack Kirby, Mark Fergus, Hawk Otsby, Art Marcum, and Matt Holloway. The film was produced by (executive producers) Ari Arad, Peter Billingsley, Louis D'Esposito, Jon Favreau, Stan Lee, and David Maisel, (co-producer) Victoria Alonso, (producers) Avi Arad and Kevin Feige, and (associate producers) Eric N. Heffron and Jeremy Latcham.
2) The Incredible Hulk was written by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Zak Penn. The film was produced by: (executive producers) Stan Lee, David Maisel, and Jim Van Wyck, (co-producer) Kurt Williams, (producers) Kevin Feige and Gale Anne Hurd, and (associate producers) Stephen Broussard, Michael Malone, and John Scotti.
3) The film Iron Man 2 was written by Justin Theroux and produced by: (executive producers) Louis D'Esposito, Susan Downey, Jon Favreau, Alan Fine, Stan Lee, David Maisel, and Denis L. Stewart, (co-producers) Victoria Alonso and Jeremy Latcham, (producer) Kevin Feige, and (associate producers) Karen Johnson and Eric N. Heffron.
4) Thor was based on Norse mythology and written by Stan Lee, Larry Lieber, Jack Kirby, Ashley Edward Miller, Jack Stentz, Don Payne, J. Michael Straczynzki, Mark Protosevich, and Nicole Perlman. The film was produced by: (executive producers) Louis D'Esposito, Alan Fine, Stan Lee, David Maisel, and Patricia Whitcher, (production executive) Michael Chong, (co-producers) Victoria Alonso and Craig Kyle, (producer) Kevin Feige, and (associate producer) David J. Grant.
5) Captain America: The First Avenger was written by Joe Simon, Jack Kirby, Christopher Markus, and Stephen McFeely. The film was produced by: (executive producers) Louis D'Esposito, Alan Fine, Nigel Gostelow, Joe Johnston, Stan Lee, and David Maisel, (co-producers) Victoria Alonso and Stephen Broussard, (producer) Kevin Feige, and (associate producers) Mitch Bell and Richard Whelan.
6) The Avengers was written by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Joss Whedon, and Zak Penn. The film was produced by: (executive producers) Victoria Alonso, Louis D'Esposito, Jon Favreau, Alan Fine, Jeremy Latchman, Stan Lee, and Patricia Whitcher, and (producer) Kevin Feige.
7) The film Iron Man 3 was written by Drew Pearce and Shane Black, and based on the "Extremis" Mini-series written by Warren Ellis and Adi Granov. The film was produced by: (executive producers) Victoria Alonso, Stephen Broussard, Louis D'Esposito, Jon Favreau, Alan Fine, Stan Lee, Dan Mintz, Charles Newirth, and Wenge Xiao, (producer) Kevin Feige, (associate producers) Mitch Bell and Lars P. Winther, and (unit producer: china) Brad Winderbaum.
8) The film Captain America: The Winter Soldier was written by Christopher Markus, Stephen McFeely, and Ed Brubaker and was produced by: (executive producers) Victoria Alonso, Alan Fine, Michael Grillo, and Stan Lee, (co-producer) Nate Moore, (producer) Kevin Feige, and (associate producers) Mitch Bell and Lars P. Winther.
9) The film Thor: The Dark World was written by Christopher L. Yost, Christopher Markus, Stephen McFeely, Don Payne, and Robert Rodat. The film was produced by: (executive producers) Victoria Alonso, Louis D'Esposito, Alan Fine, Nigel Gostelow, Craig Kyle, and Stan Lee, (producer) Kevin Feige, (associate producer) Jamie Christopher, and (line producer) Leifur B. Dafinnsson.
10) Guardians of the Galaxy was written by Arnold Drake and Gene Colan (in 1969) and Dan Abnett, Andy Lanning, James Gunn, and Nichole Perlman. The film was produced by: (executive producers) Victoria Alonso, Louis D'Esposito, Alan Fine, Nikolas Korda, Jeremy Latcham, and Stan Lee, (co-producers) David J. Grant and Jonathan Schwartz, (producer) Kevin Feige, and (associate producer) Jamie Christopher.
11) The film The Avengers: Age of Ultron was written by Joss Whedon and produced by: (executive producers) Victoria Alonso, Louis D'Esposito, Jon Favreau, Alan Fine, Jeremy Latcham, Stan Lee, and Patricia Whitcher, (co-producer) Mitchell Bell, (associate producers) Jamie Christopher and Daniel S. Kaminsky, (produce) Kevin Feige, (line producer: Italy) Diego Loreggian, and (line producer: South Africa) Angela Phillips.
12) Antman was written by Stan Lee, Larry Leiber, Jack Kirby, Edgar Wright, Joe Cornish, Adam McKay, and Paul Rudd. The film was produced by (executive producers) Victoria Alonso, Louis D'Esposito, Alan Fine, Michael Grillo, Stan Lee, and Edgar Wright, (producer) Kevin Feige, (co-producers) David J. Grant and Brad Winderbaum, and (associate producers) Leo Thompson and Lars P. Winther.
13) The film Captain America: Civil War was written by Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely. The film was produced by (executive producers) Victoria Alonso, Louis D'Esposite, Alan Fine, Stan Lee, Nate Moore, and Patricia Witcher, (producers Kevein Feige, (co-producers) Mitchell Bell, Christoph Fisser, Henning Molfenter, and Charlie Woebcken, and (associate producers) Ari Costa, Trinh Tran, and Lars P. Winther.
[list incomplete as the films are still being made]