Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or Captain America, God bless his patriotic soul. =)
No doubt about it, the guy was weird.
It was one thing to dress like Mr. Conservative-all-around-nice-guy, but it was another to act like you'd never been around technology before. I was tempted to ask him what sort of backwoods city he'd come from, but the guy was a regular and the number one barista rule was "don't insult the regulars."
The bells above the cafe door chimed and my coworker, Lisa, groaned, "Here comes Mr. Rogers."
Even his name was ironic. Stick a cardigan on the guy and he'd probably be quite at home instructing kids on TV.
"You know, Tom," Lisa continued softly as we watched him set his books on a corner table facing the windows, "if he wasn't so handsome, I think I would start messing up his drink orders on purpose to see if I could get a rise out of him."
"Already tried that," I huffed as he started to approach. "Mr. Perfect didn't even say anything when I gave him a mocha instead of a latte. He just kept looking at the cup as if it would explain itself."
Lisa plastered on a smile as he came up to the counter, dressed in one of those awful checkered, tucked-in shirts and khaki slacks. "Good morning, Mr. Rogers. What can I get for you?"
"Good morning, Lisa, Tom." The guy learned our names the first time he came in and never forgot them. It was rather disconcerting. Our names weren't all that hard to remember, but still - most customers didn't even realize we had a life apart from meeting their needs. "I would like a cup of coffee, please, the largest that you have."
"Room for cream?"
"No, thank you."
The man was boring too. Lately he kept ordering coffee since we'd overwhelmed him with our selections - guess he figured he couldn't go wrong with a cup of coffee.
He paid, I handed him his drink, and he walked off to his corner of the cafe with a soft "thank you."
"There's no way that guy is real," Lisa quipped. "Nobody's really that nice. He probably has half a dozen girlfriends or works with the mafia or something."
I laughed. "I think you're getting carried away. He's probably just Amish or something."
"Whatever, dude. Go wipe down the cafe , it's your turn." She tossed a rag at my head.
I caught it before it could connect and headed out into the cafe, clearing away empty cups and wiping down tables. When I got around to Mr. Rogers' corner of the cafe, I saw him fumbling with his phone, his frown deepening the more he messed with it.
People who don't know how to work with technology should not be allowed to have an iPhone, I thought as I headed to his table. "Need help?"
His eyes shot up to me, surprised. A wry grin cracked his expression. "Yes, thank you. I can't seem to get this document to open. It says I'm supposed to "download attachment," but I don't know what that means."
I extended a hand for the phone and he gave it to me. I tilted the screen so he could see what I was doing. "You want this one, right? The one from...Coulson, is it?"
"Yes."
"You just have to scroll to the bottom of the email and hit this picture of the document." I tapped it with my finger. Instantly, a document with a title page of "Understanding the Modern World" popped up.
"That's swell!" Mr. Rogers said, smile bright. "Thank you."
"Sure thing." I gave the phone back to him. I could not understand how a guy who looked barely older than me could be so far behind the times. "Let me know if you need anything else."
"Thanks, Tom. This is just dandy."
Dandy? I shook my head. What a weirdo.
I was so focused on the feather I was making in a latte that I didn't even notice the rumblings at first. It wasn't until I looked up and saw all of our customers standing up and staring out the windows that I got my first inkling that something was wrong. "What's going on?"
"I think -" The windows to the cafe shattered all at once, cutting off Lisa's statement.
Everyone started screaming and running, shoving at each other to get out the door and get clear.
Lisa stumbled into me as the ground shook beneath our feet, but I still couldn't make out what was causing the vibrations. "What is it? An earthquake?"
"Watch out!" She screamed as a creature appeared in the entrance of the cafe, pointing a strange-looking weapon at us.
Lisa jerked me out of the way as a bright blue light shot at us. It hit the wall behind us, shattering our shelves and sending syrup bottles raining down on top of us. We both hit the ground.
The minute we fell among the glass shards, the entire counter above us exploded into pieces and buried us underneath the debris.
I came to not knowing when I had even lost consciousness. Every inch of my body ached and stung.
The ground still shook beneath me, but it was fainter. Soft sobs sounded to my left.
"Lisa?" I rasped.
The sobs paused. "T-Tom?"
"Yeah."
"Oh thank God! I thought you were dead!"
I shifted, trying to catch a glimpse of her, but all I could see were piles of debris and I couldn't move much with everything that was stacked on top of me. "I...I think I'm okay, but I can't move. What about you?"
She sniffed. "I think my arm is broken, but I'm stuck too, so I can't tell for sure. Wh-What was that thing?"
"I don't know."
"I'm scared, Tom," her voice cracked.
"I know, me too. But it's going to be okay. Someone will come for us, I'm sure of it. We just have to hang on." But even as I said the words, I couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before rescuers would come on the scene and whether we could really wait that long.
No sooner had I thought that then I heard footsteps crunching over the glass in the cafe. I instinctively held my breath, hoping it wasn't one of those ugly creatures again.
"Is anybody in here?" The voice was familiar, but I couldn't place it. All I knew was that it belonged to a human.
"Over here!" I croaked. "We're stuck under the counter, me and my coworker."
"Okay, give me a second. I'll have you out of there in a jiffy."
Who uses "in a jiffy" anymore? I wondered as I felt the debris start shifting above me.
"Listen," the voice continued, "I'm going to be as careful as I can, but give a shout if something starts hurting you. I don't want to injure you while I'm getting you out. Do you currently have any injuries?"
"I broke my arm," Lisa said. "I think that's all."
"Okay. Hold on."
I started to see daylight above me, the cracks widening as our unknown hero cleared the rubble off of us. My vision was filled with red, white, and blue as the last bit of debris was tugged off of me and a red-gloved hand reached out to me to help me up.
I stared at it blankly, unable to stop my first thought from popping out of my mouth, "What are you wearing?"
"Now's not the time to talk about fashion. I got to get your dame out of there."
Dame? I had no time to contemplate the strange word before the American-flag-bedazzled man lifted me off of the ground and carried me to a relatively clean spot in the cafe.
I sat there, feeling woozy, and watched the man go back for Lisa. In a few minutes, he returned, carrying her bridal-style. As he set her down beside me, I squinted up at him, taking in the sweaty, stained face. He looked so familiar.
Lisa gasped. "Mr. Rogers?"
I did a double take. Sure enough, Mr. Conservative was crouched right next to us wearing tights. "I'm dead, aren't I?"
He laughed. "It's a little hard to explain and right now, we need to get out of here. Can you walk?"
Other than a few scrapes and bruises that I was sure weren't going to fade for a few weeks, I was fine. Lisa's arm was a mess, but Mr. Rogers fixed her up with a sling haphazardly made from her hoodie. She managed to get to her feet with little trouble.
Mr. Rogers went over to the other side of the cafe and picked up something. As he turned back around, I saw that it was a shield, colored just as patriotic as its owner. He headed for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Stay close behind me. I'm going to get you guys to safety."
Lisa and I shared an incredulous glance, but with the ground still shaking and weird creatures running about, neither of us wanted to stay in the cafe, so we did what we were told.
Stepping through the shattered remains of the door into the street was an eye-opening experience. Everywhere we looked, something was smashed or crumpled or on fire. Gunshots echoed around us as more of those strange-looking creatures flew by overhead. Blue light rained down from above, shattering buildings and sending people running for cover.
Lisa and I were so distracted by our surroundings that we didn't realize we were under attack until Mr. Rogers moved around us.
He threw his shield at one creature that crept up behind us, caught the weapon on the ricochet, and smoothly flipped backwards to avoid the shot of another alien. Using an abandoned car as a springboard, he shot forward and tackled the second alien, smashing the edge of his shield over its head and killing it instantly. He dropped the shield and grabbed the alien's weapon, pointed it in our general direction, shooting between Lisa and I to take out a third alien.
A fourth monster came up behind Mr. Rogers' kneeling position, gun trained on the back of his head. The man planted both hands firmly on the ground and kicked out. His legs wrapped around the alien's and jerked him to the ground. Then he was up again, shield in hand, delivering a solid right hook to the alien that snapped its neck.
All threats eliminated, he glanced at us. "We'd better hurry."
We followed him in a daze as he led us through the torn streets, taking down threats and rescuing people as he went. Before we knew it, we were standing in front of a police officer directing people underground.
Mr. Rogers put a hand on each of our shoulders, smiling kindly at us. "This man's going to take you to safety, okay? Just do what he says and stay underground until it's safe to come out again."
Neither one of us had recovered enough from our shock to acknowledge our agreement before he took off again, throwing his shield at an incoming alien ship.
A faint squeak escaped Lisa.
Quite frankly, that noise summed up the matter nicely.
It was months before the cafe was restored. But when Lisa and I came back to work, there was a top-of-the-line espresso machine donated by Tony Stark himself for us to use. Both of us knew who it was really from.
The initial excitement over the sparkling new cafe faded over time and we got back to business as usual.
It was almost a year later when the bells over the door chimed and Mr. Rogers walked in, still dressed in that terrible checkered shirt and those khaki slacks. He gave us a small, embarrassed smile.
"Good morning, Mr. Rogers," Lisa grinned. "What can I get for you today?"
"A cup of black coffee, please."
I handed him the drink.
Lisa shook her head when he tried to pay for it. "All of your drinks are on us, Captain."