I know! I know! I still have TONS of work left to do on my other fics but this just would not go away. I am NOT abandoning anything and WILL get to them all so please be patient. (As you always have been dear readers.)

This story is based on Red Witch's Misfit Universe. Specifically on Chapter 10 of 'Picking up the Pieces' If you haven't read her Misfit stories, then please do so. Captain America's background will be a mix of that used in X-Men: Evolution and The First Avenger.

I own none of these characters. This work is for entertainment only.

Please enjoy and leave a review.


The Triumph of Evil

One: Questions


The Avenger's Mansion.

It was two in the morning. Steve Rogers; the man known to the world as Captain America, walked out onto the terrace after a long sleepless night. The day's events at the United Nations still echoing in his mind.

"We've seen many people die by your inability or unwillingness to get involved."

"That's still no reason to throw Vision under the bus like that. You can't just let Doom use this as a reason to destroy one of our team mates!"

"Why not? You never stood up for any one of mine. You had no problems letting my people get destroyed. Why should I care about one of yours?"

"You were more concerned with preserving your image."

Since that day; six years ago, when three slightly insane girls had stolen his cryogenically frozen body from a SHIELD storage unit and revived him (Successfully curing him of the cellular degeneration that had been a direct result of the rebirthing process), Steve had been regularly confronted by a world more alien than he could ever have imagined.

He was not sure they had actually done him any favors.

To be sure, the initial madness encountered the week he had stayed at Misfit Manor was disturbing enough. It had been as big a shock as he supposed a kid raised in the Farm Belt might have had if they had been dropped abruptly in the middle of the streets of Brooklyn. But the language those kids used and the um... graphical imagery were; after all, only superficial things. If a man from say 1870 had been dropped into the world of 1940, he too might easily have been shocked and dismayed by the language and attitudes and technology of the day. No. Those things were a small matter. It had simply taken a little getting used to.

Today; however, he had been brought face to face with ugly truths that ran far deeper.

I don't want to kill anybody. I just don't like bullies. He had said to Dr. Erskine. But did he really mean that in his heart? Was Steve Rogers really the man Erskine had been searching for or was he a fraud?

Who was Captain America? More importantly:

Who was Steve Rogers?

And amid all of that:

What was America? Had she changed on some fundamental level? And what did those changes say about her? And about me?

There was only one way to find out. And I should have done it six years ago. Well... This outfit owes me a little time off. I might as well use it.

With that he penned a short note to his teammates and packed some supplies. He looked at his shield and uniform and set them aside. Not exactly covert. He chuckled to himself humorlessly. Then he went down to the garage and looked over the old Indian Scout motorcycle which he had carefully restored. Some of the parts had been hard to find and had taken the help of an old friend to track down. Logan... Do I still have the right to call you friend now? What sort of friend sits silent when a friend is in trouble?

Making sure to top off the gas tank and the spare gas cans. Steve tossed his gear into the side car and left the Avengers mansion on a journey across a nation and into himself.


To Be Continued...


Until next time! Read, Review, and Comment!