The morning air was chillier than it had been in ages and Steve nestled his mouth under his jacket's collar to try and keep his lungs warm. He kept his arms wrapped around his torso while wishing that either his arms was wrapped around Bucky on his bike or Bucky's arms were wrapped around him as they walked. Either way he would be warmer and he would be near Bucky. Both were good in his book. But since Bucky was out of town he was going to have to make due.
The streets were basically empty this early in the morning, as was the small local park that was his destination. Despite the handful of setbacks Steve was excited to be there and settled under a tree near the pond, sketchpad in hand. It was quite picturesque; there were a few geese and other birds about and the surface of the water was still as glass, except for where the birds disturbed the stillness. The sky was getting lighter, but the sun had yet to properly rise. He started sketching in segments, capturing new sections as something happened there.
Eventually people started running on the trails and the sun was just starting to peak over the buildings as he finished up. Steve studied the drawing and nodded. It wasn't anything special, but he was pleased with how it had turned out. He put away the drawing pad and closed his eyes, just breathing in the air for a few moments. Of course it led to him coughing and he quickly used his inhaler, twice, before he stood.
He made his way back towards his apartment, but couldn't help taking his time. It was always interesting to see what kinds of people were out this early in the morning and there were all kinds. Some were tired (yawning frequently and a few even nodding off), some were angry (they usually had a coffee in hand that probably hadn't kicked in yet), some were doing makeup or buttoning up suits in their cars. Of course there were a few who were ready for the day and had smiles on their faces; Steve liked them the best.
He was just passing his usual coffee shop, a small hole-in-the-wall place owned by one Clint Barton, when he realized two people were following him. Gang members, he was willing to bet, based on their appearances. As he kept walking he realized there were two more similarly dressed men in front of him. Steve tightened his grip on his bag strap and turned his eyes down, but as expected they stepped in front of him blocking him.
The other two formed a wall behind him as well. "Excuse me." He said politely and made to go past the two in his way. One grabbed him and shoved him back, into the other two who each grabbed an arm tightly enough to bruise. He glanced around, but he knew full well no one was going to help as they dragged him into the nearby alleyway.
He was slammed into the wall hard enough it took his breath away (not that that was particularly hard to do) and he let his bag fall to the thankfully dry ground. He was hoping they would leave it alone because for some reason bullies always seemed to enjoy tearing up his sketchbooks. "What's this about?" He asked politely to the four glaring faces.
"You got our warning?" One of them, one of the two who had been waiting for him rather than following him, spoke first.
"Um… maybe? I'm afraid I don't know most gangs by appearance alone." He admitted. Unsurprisingly, the comment got him punched and he doubled over coughing. Hands grabbed his shoulders, forcing him upright and back against the wall none to gently. It was the two who had followed him while the speaker got in his face.
"We are the Chitauri." He growled and now that he mentioned it Steve did recognize the unique metal piercings on the man's face that were common among Chitauri members (and were basically required for any of its upper level members). Which the man in front of him was, Steve could only guess, given how extensive they were. He certainly wasn't a grunt anyway.
"Ah, yes. I did get your warning." Steve confirmed as he focused on breathing. The man grabbed his throat and pushed him against the wall, hard. Thankfully he wasn't actually cutting off any of his air, but it wouldn't take much more effort.
"Then why are you still here?" He spat.
Steve shrugged vaguely. "Because my whole life is here and I don't have anywhere else to go?" He offered breathlessly.
The Chitauri man stepped back then punched him. Steve had been ready for it, but it still hurt and he found it was more the two Chitauri holding him up than his own legs keeping him on his feet. "Consider this your final warning. Get lost before we make you." The man ordered before he started to walk away.
"What makes you so desperate to see me gone anyway?" Steve asked, making him pause in his steps. Slowly the man turned to look at him. "I mean, I'm not exactly a threat to you and the worst I've done is take a beating for someone else."
"You're a troublemaker. You stand up to us and so we're going to make an example of you." The man said before he turned and walked away. Immediately there were fists pounding against Steve, mostly his chest and stomach since even doubling over couldn't protect him very well with his arms pulled back. A blow to his face made his vision blurry as one eye rapidly swelled up. He was already dizzy and had a good feeling he was going to faint before this was over.
All of a sudden the man in front of him, the other Chitauri who had been waiting for him, was pulled away. Steve struggled to keep his eyes open and his vision clear; all he could really see was a figure in black who, with one hit, sent the Chitauri man to the ground. Almost lightning quick the person yanked the other two away from him and he slid to the ground. His legs refused to support him any more.
The man in black had thrown the other two Chitauri against the opposite wall of the alleyway, next to the first who still crumpled on the ground, and Steve was fairly sure the new arrival pulled something from his coat. The man moved closer to him and set a hand over his eyes, covering them. Before Steve could ask why three silenced gunshots rang out, each one making him jump. It took him a few moments to realized he didn't feel any pain, so none of those gunshots had been aimed at him.
"Wait, please don't shoot me." Steve whispered though he tensed, waiting for it. But there was no sound and no pain.
"Eyes closed." A stilted low gravelly voice ordered. It was infuriating familiar, but who it actually belonged to he couldn't say. Steve quickly did as the man ordered and closed his eyes. He felt the hand leave his face in segments. Suddenly he was scooped up into someone's arms and he swallowed down a cry, of both pain and fear.
"Where are you taking me?" He asked softly when his rescuer started walking. He didn't get an answer and so just clung to the man's, well, it didn't feel like a normal shirt. Steve was fairly sure the man was wearing Kevlar or some kind of protective vest. There was a strap over his shoulder that Steve held onto instead. He had a sneaking suspicion it was for ammo, but he didn't dare open his eyes to find out. "Oh, my bag!" Steve cried when he realized it had been left in the alleyway, inhaler and sketchbook included.
The man didn't slow down and Steve tugged at him. "Please. It has my medicine. Please take me back." He insisted. He heard the sharp intake of breath that made him curl into himself, hoping he hadn't angered his rescuer. The man kept walking in silence and Steve heard a few whispers from people around them, but no one spoke loud enough he could hear what they were saying. Of course the fact his ears had started ringing didn't help.
Finally Steve couldn't stand it any more and tugged weakly on the man's ammo strap. "Please…" He whispered softly. What he was pleading for even he couldn't say and he didn't get the chance to clarify as he blacked out. Strangely, despite everything, he felt safe as unconsciousness took him.