Steven Grant Rogers was cold, which was strange considering he should be dead in the arctic right about now. He focused in on the surrounding and heard the familiar voice of Red Barber announcing another Dodgers game, which was seemingly innocent. He was lying on something soft, and besides the radio noises all was quiet.
Steven sat up and blinked his eyes open which were crusty and stiff, as was his entire body. The room he was in was very bare, reminiscent of the room he shared with Bucky before the war. Except unlike his old apartment this room had a radio… and a bed. The window was open, emitting nostalgic sounds of downtown.
Steve's ears perked up, the game on the radio was starting to sound familiar, all the action occurred in the exact same way is had at the only Dodgers game Steve had actually been to.
A lean, dark- haired dame walked in, interrupting his thoughts. She smiled sweetly at him, "Good morning," She murmured, glancing at her watch, "Or should I say afternoon,"
"Where am I?" Steve ordered, his slight glare not softening the sharp words in the slightest.
"You're in a recovery room in New-York City," She replied, looking slightly uncomfortable under the soldiers glare. She was lying.
He took a long moment, reading his surroundings, before finally answering.
"Where am I, really?"
The woman took a sharp breath, "I'm afraid I don't understand,"
"The game," He said sharply, "It's from May, 1941. I know because I was there."
There was another silence. Steve stood from his seat on the bed, staring her down from his intimidating height.
"Now, I'm gonna ask you again," The super-soldier warned, taking a few steps toward her, "Where am I?"
She squeezed a strange black object in her hand he hadn't noticed before, "Captain Rogers…"
"Who are you!" he barked.
Several armed men stormed through the door, HYDRA. The Captain tensed, ready to fight.
It was a short brawl, ending with both of the men being thrown through a wall, Steve leaped through the hole he had created and sprinted out of the dark room, the call of the strange woman echoing after him. He burst through the double doors and into a busy hall. Steve continued his sprint down the hall, bowling over a man who attempted to stop him before slamming out into modern New York. Steve continued his sprint down the road. And then… he stopped. This was New York, but it wasn't his New York. It was brighter. Louder.
Everything had changed. Confused and panicked thoughts filled Steve's mind even as two large automobiles like nothing he had seen before came to a stop in front of him.
"At ease, soldier!" barked a man from behind him, making Steve whirl around.
But Steve did not ease. This was not his commanding officer. Steve turned again, towards the first two cars he had seen and delivered a quick jab to the throat of another muscle bound and armed man who had been exiting the car, racing past the downed man and back through traffic onto the pedestrian sidewalk. He sprinted through the throng of people, focusing single-mindedly on just getting away.
Steve turned through familiar streets and lost himself in crowds, and ultimately losing the armed and dangerous enemy he was sure was tailing him.
Steven Grant Rogers ran away.
