Chapter 2
Steve was quickly jolted from his sleep by the piercing noise of his phone ringing. He blinked for a moment, confused by the sound and his surroundings. Glancing around, he calmed once he woke up enough to realize that he was in his apartment and recognize his ringtone.
The phone continued to ring, and he grabbed it a bit clumsily as he blinked away sleep. The clock on the phone said it was 7:30am, which surprised him. Normally he couldn't sleep in past six; five thirty was his normal rising time, a risidual effect of Army life. This was probably the first time since he had woken from the ice that he'd "slept in". He was turning into a civillian…
He had yet to figure out how to program names and numbers into the cellphone, but he recognized the number displayed as Tony Stark's. Steve groaned, unenthusiastic about dealing with Stark first thing in the morning, but he pressed the answer key.
"Tony, for the last time, no. I'm not going to that dinner tomorrow night," Steve muttered, already knowing what Stark wanted, "I told you I don't like parties."
"Oh, come on," Tony scoffed. Steve rolled his eyes. No matter what anyone said to Tony Stark, it went in one ear and out the other unless it was what he wanted to hear. The only exception was his significant other, Pepper, but everyone else was greeted with a sharp tongue and deaf ears.
"Rogers, we're talking about the biggest event of the year, here. Stark Industries is merging with the only other company impressive enough for it, and you want to spend the occasion moping at your apartment."
"I'm not moping," Steve protested before he could stop himself, "Why do you want me there so badly, anyway? I assumed you wouldn't want anyone there to threaten your spotlight."
"Don't flatter yourself, old man," Tony sounded half offended and half amused. Steve shook his head. "This merger is important, and you should be keeping up with the times anyway. Why not do it as my esteemed guest?"
Steve only replied with a sigh. Stark enjoyed reminding him that he was a fish out of water far more than he should have. Maybe he should learn to cope with the fact that he was in a different time now, but it wasn't exactly going to happen overnight. Too much had changed in seventy years for him to play the part of a modern man so soon.
"Besides, you owe me for the living quarters I set up for you in Stark Tower."
"What?" Steve's brow creased as he frowned. "Stark, your exact words when you set that up were 'no strings attached'"
"And you believed me, you chump. Just show up at seven. The unveiling is at eight, you stick around for another thirty minutes and then you can leave. If you wear your dress uniform, I'll let you ride in the limo."
Steve grit his teeth, knowing that calling Stark out on his rudeness was a losing battle. He sat heavily on his couch, rubbing the bridge of his nose in thought for a few seconds.
"Fine," he agreed grudgingly at last, "But I'm only staying until after your announcements, and I'm not going to let anyone important notice me if I can help it, so don't use me for any publicity stunts."
If there was nothing else Steve had learned from working with politicians, it was that heroes were good for business. Stark had his own fame in that right (and several others), but everyone knew there were more Avengers than Iron Man, and that Captain America was one of them.
"Are you trying to seem like you're playing hard ball?" Stark asked, his tone somewhere between disbelief and mocking. "Eh, doesn't matter. I'll see you there."
Steve waited for a few seconds, expecting to hear a click or dial tone, but the cellphone produced no such indicators. The screen showed that the call was done, however, so he sighed and set it on the cushion beside him. The last thing he wanted was to attend a useless party among the upper class, especially right after the destruction in Manhattan. But Stark would hold it over his head if he didn't go, playing his good nature to his advantage as he had done over the phone.
To be fair, Stark was being very generous. Steve hadn't seen his new quarters yet, but he assumed that it was going to be impressive. Stark had also been kind enough to get him a private gym membership, a new bike and even a new car. Still, to some degree he wanted to keep his old apartment, the one that SHIELD had given him. It was in a quiet neighborhood, not too far uptown, but certainly not downtown. The buildings were older and more comfortable for him than modern-looking condos, and it was the perfect place to escape to if he needed to get away from all the chaos of the current New York for a while.
Steve left the couch and headed towards the bathroom to get ready for his morning jog. He was a little late, but he could cut his run down to an hour to get back on schedule. He pulled on his sweatpants, undershirt and a hoodie, then slipped into his running shoes and left the house, not wanting to lose a spare moment.
He locked his front door and headed downstairs and outside onto the street. It was already bustling with people that were in their own little worlds, not paying much attention to what was going on around them. Steve sighed and headed for the park across the street, where he ran every morning. The running path snaked though the park in a two-mile trail, which was a perfect running distance for his morning exercise. Normally he made circuits around it to ensure he got at least an hour of cardio.
It was a simple routine he had. He'd wake up, jog, and then come home for his shower, followed by eating breakfast. After that, he'd head to one of three places: the library, Stark Tower, or the gym. He would usually stay there until noon, and then head to a small restaurant, usually followed by going to work out in the gym, then he would head home. For dinner he normally cooked at home, preferring to save what money he was provided. It seemed like the prudent thing to do; being in the Army had taught him to conserve what he had. Sometimes after dinner he would go on a walk, or visit a local coffee shop mainly for the quiet—but not lonely—atmosphere. Sometimes he simply sat and observed or ordered a cup; sometimes he doodled in the new sketchbook he'd bought. It was a simple routine, and perhaps even monotonous, but it worked for him.
Granted, it didn't give him much of a social life, but he didn't feel like he wanted a social life at the moment. He was too busy trying to catch up to the modern era and understand this world. It was getting easier, and he was adjusting, but it still just overwhelmed him sometimes. How could there be five wars at once, but no recruitment ads or posters around the street? There wasn't even a need to conserve resources to put towards the war effort or recycle rubber. Considering SHIELD's capability, though, and the size of the stores in New York, he assumed resources hadn't been deficient in America for quite a while. He had yet to catch up to that point in history at the library.
The wind whipped around him as he ran. It felt good to stretch his muscles, feel the burn in his legs, his heart beating quicker in his chest. It reminded him that he was alive. Still breathing. He blew past a woman who was power walking—another early riser like himself, apparently—around the bend and over the bridge. He gradually got the feeling that he had a shadow, a gut feeling he'd learned to rely on during the war. He quickly glanced over his shoulder and was slightly relieved to see Natasha keeping pace behind him.
Curious about what had warranted Natasha's presence, Steve slowed his pace, allowing her to catch up.
"No need Captain, I'm barely breaking a sweat." Natasha informed him in her sociable, but still flat tone. She jogged beside him easily, though that was hardly a surprise.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, partly sarcastic. He knew SHIELD was probably keeping tabs on him half the time, but this was the first time Natasha (or any other agent) had ever appeared.
"I just felt like a run, and this is one of the best paths," she stated, though Steve knew better than to take her words at face value by now. "Also, your number one fan wants to speak with you. Between you and me, it's nothing important, but he still wants you to sign those stupid cards of his. Fortunately for Fury, he wasn't too upset that his blood got all over them."
Steve chuckled. He still had yet to find the time to sign those trading cards, though that was partially due to the fact that he'd only learned Coulson was alive recently.
The knowledge still gave him a wave of relief, though it fed his resentment towards Nick Fury. Fury had lied to them, telling them that Coulson was dead to give them a "push". In actuality, Coulson had been in critical condition, but still clinging to life. To be fair, Coulson's staged death had pulled the Avengers together and possibly even been the very reason they'd managed to fend off the alien invasion. Despite their shared anger, Fury's decision on the matter was dubious at worst and correct at best.
Apparently, when Coulson woke up in a medical center, he hadn't known he'd allegedly died. He hadn't expressed any opinion on the matter. Steve couldn't imagine what he must have been thinking. But judging by the look on his face, Fury would definitely have something to worry.
"I'll stop by at 10:30." Steve told Natasha, his voice almost authoritative. She seemed amused.
"Yes, sir," she replied, cocking an eyebrow.
"Are you going to that dinner party tomorrow night?"
"Yes, but mostly for security. Did Stark finally convince you to join?"
"Yeah. I'm only staying until after Stark's speech. I'm not a big fan of parties." Steve muttered as they reached the half-way point in the circuit.
"Well, looks like we'll finally get to meet Stark's new business partner. He's kept it carefully hidden, but it didn't take me much effort to find out who it is." She smirked.
"Who is it?" Steve asked immediately, his curiosity flaring unexpectedly. It was due mostly to his desire to know something Stark didn't want him to, but information was never a bad thing.
"He's the head of the most influential company in Japan, and is also the youngest CEO of a multinational organization in the world. Aside from that, he's a successful professional gamer. Second best international," Natasha explained.
"Professional gamer?"
"There are a lot of games that are strategically complex and widely-played enough to warrant holding tournaments for prize money."
Steve blinked. Natasha's summary of the term didn't make him any less confused, honestly. More technology. The world had become obsessed with it, it seemed. He couldn't keep up.
"You said he was young. How young?"
"He's nineteen, but he's been running the company since he was fourteen."
A fourteen-year-old entering the world of politics and big business. At fourteen, Steve had been spending his spare time listening to the radio, running around with Bucky, or taking jobs where he could. Even they were only simple jobs, like making sodas at the drug store, not running an entire company.
And now at nineteen, this kid—still just a teenager—was going to be working with Stark. When Steve was nineteen, he was an illustration student who failed to enlist three times. That was before the serum, of course.
Still, Stark's partner was only four years younger than him. Well, physically anyway. Technically, Steve was somewhere around ninety years old in actuality, but since the ice had cryogenically preserved him, he was still twenty-three.
"I just hope he doesn't kill Stark." Natasha muttered.
"What?" Steve blinked, pulled from his thoughts by her words.
"This guy is notorious for being a bulldozer. He's never been known to lose the upper hand in business, and he's ruthless—to the degree that I've found a few shady points in his history. His fans and business associates call him "Ice Prince" because of his personality. He also has a very low tolerance for foolish or childish actions, and since Stark doesn't know how to behave any other way…"
"He hates Stark? Then why work with him?" Steve was confused, but he knew the answer before she even said it.
"He's Japanese, and Stark is good business."
Steve shook his head. Good business could only go so far. Some things weren't worth it. Having to deal with Stark was one of those things.
"Are you bringing a date?" Natasha asked.
Steve was startled, and stared at her impassive face for a few seconds, trying to figure out if she was dropping a hint.
"Um… no? Why?"
"Just wondering. I'm accompanying my target to the party, so if you see me, call me "April Star". Got it?" Natasha stated, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Yes Ma'am," Steve replied, mimicking her earlier affirmation. Who was she targeting and why?
"I thought you were going with Barton."
Natasha shook her head.
"No, this is too important. Besides, Clint is currently glued to Coulson's side for security purposes."
Steve sighed. He hadn't seen or heard anything about Hawkeye since Coulson had been revived. Maybe they had been closer colleagues than he'd known, or maybe Hawkeye was just determined not to allow a repeat performance of Coulson's death scene. Either way, Steve supposed it didn't matter as long as there was no immediate need for the Avengers initiative to be active.
"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow night," Natasha told him before taking off down a side path. He didn't have a chance to respond in kind.
He did feel curious about Stark's business partner—who was still unnamed, he realized, probably because Natasha had too much love for secrets. Steve didn't know much about the Japanese, but the last time he'd encountered one, it had been one of his close comrades during the war. All he could envision mentally was a short, lean Japanese teenager, but somehow that mental image didn't seem to have as much imposing presence as it should.
He also wondered about the "shady points" Natasha had referred to. Shady how? And when? He wasn't exactly up-to-date, but last time he checked, crooked businessmen weren't a good thing. He'd have to trust Stark's judgment he supposed—as difficult as that was to do—since he didn't have any control over the situation. He only hoped that no problems would arise.
Steve found that he didn't feel much like running anymore, so he decided to end his jog early. He started to walk towards the entrance to the park, but paused when he saw something shining on the sidewalk.
A penny.
He picked it up on impulse, turning it and watching the bright copper catch the light. It was a brand new 2012 penny. He smiled as an old phrase ran through his mind.
Find a penny, pick it up; all the day, you'll have good luck.
He flipped it in the air, catching it playfully. Pocketing it, he continued to walk out of the park and back towards his apartment. Who knew? Maybe he'd have some good luck today.
