I'm not a CA fan. (I don't read the comics. I got *strongly encouraged* to watch MCU. I know the barest bones.)
But my good friend readergirl1013 really is and it breaks my heart how much this epic shit breaks her heart.
So this is for you, to cheer you up.
Also: thank you for being so awesome that you beta-read your own prezzies!
.
Maybe things like this should happen in a gloomy atmosphere.
Maybe it should be night, hushed whispers of mysterious hooded figures in long robes – thirteen would be best – small pools of light cast by flickering candles. There should be an altar made of marble, vaulted ceilings, ancient objects of power. Maybe a black cat.
Instead, it looked like the cliché of every witch wannabe Supernatural fan.
The ever beloved cliché of an abandoned warehouse that bore signs of being a hastily cleared up teenage hangout. Altar made of an overturned crate, covered by a not-very-mystical, not-very-ancient SpongeBob place mat, a booklet, an orange candle and a cheap glass bowl filled with dried herbs. The ripped packaging a couple feet away showed that they had been bought at the supermarket.
The symbol at the wall that would – in theory – collect the belief in the entity they had defined with their offerings and make the concept into reality was done in neon green spray paint (what? It was on sale!). A closer look would show the pencil lines beneath it.
Oh yes: and it was bright daylight.
.
"So we're really gonna do this?" The guy who asked looked like the stereotypical teenage nerd. Weedy, glasses, dental braces. He even carried an inhaler.
"I'm just… are we sure this is the right thing to do?"
"Well, it's not the easy thing to do, I guess", answered the other occupant of the room, a pudgy teeny girl with pimples and an obviously bad case of Harry Potter geekery.
Very obvious, as her t-shirt proclaimed that she was 'Hufflepuff and proud of it'.
"I'm just saying, did you consider that we'll have to explain this?"
"What do you mean, explain this? Explain it to who?"
"It's 'whom'. And explain it to… y'know!" He gestured expansively to the makeshift altar with its comic book and the graffiti-like symbol on the wall behind it.
"Oh." That seemed to stymie the girl for a moment. Visibly more anxious, she chewed her lip.
"I guess I'm not totally sure. But something's gotta be done. I know this is risky, it might not turn out exactly right… Thor knows there's so much canon and fanon out there. But you've gotta have faith. Because he's the good guy. Always. So we have to do this now, before this… this travesty" – her voice broke a little – "ruins it all."
She'd talked herself into quite the conviction now, and went on.
"Maybe it's not the perfectly right thing to do. But what other options are there that we didn't take? We tried it all, and it didn't help. No take-backs, no apologies. Someone's gotta take a stand, a real stand. And maybe it's not the perfect solution, but we're trying to do what's best. And I think he'll respect that, if nothing else."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," muttered the boy.
"Hey, you don't gotta. If… I mean, I can do it alone, I guess?" She was uncomfortable, offering to let him back out, but he was her best friend, and she wasn't gonna force him to do anything.
"No, no. I said the same thing. I do agree. It's just different, now that we're actually doing it. Y'know?"
"Weightier."
"Dude, you never talk like that." The boy smiled at her.
She smiled back.
"The occasion merits utmost solemnity." The badly faked British accent made the boy laugh.
"It sure does. OK. Let's roll!"
Yeah, they might get a bad chewing out for that one, but that was a sacrifice they were prepared to make.
But if this worked… Well, Marvel had better apologize for turning Cap evil, because the real Captain America, the one that thousands, millions of children and adults believed in, the one that was a hero, that tried to always do the right thing, that stood against all forms of oppression, he wasn't gonna stand for being made into a caricature of a fascist villain for the sake of plot twisting!