It took a day for my face and eyes to grow back, a day that I spent doped up to the gills with pain-killers as Natasha informed that I was stupid for taking on an alien robot alone—I wasn't alone per say, the warrior three were there though they weren't as much help as I thought they would be.
The alarm blared through the building to inform everyone that a prisoner had escaped.
Hope lazily watched as the other agents in the gym scrambled to get dressed and lend aid, she didn't bother as she knew that the only 'prisoner' that SHIELD had at the moment was the Good Captain and they would be able to track him down.
They had placed a tracker in him—something she didn't have as her blood actually dissolved the little tracker as it was that toxic—so they didn't really have to panic as much as they were.
She clipped on her headphones, listening to her playlist of rock/punk/punk-pop and such, and made her way to one of the treadmills with a roll of her shoulders—she wasn't going to run after the escaped Captain.
She had training scheduled at the moment so she was busy working-out and warming up for the unlucky sod that would be facing her in a spar later as she was feeling the slightest bit annoyed about the newest Anti-Mutant act that was going through the government.
A phantom pain on the back of his shoulder made him roll them despite the fact that it had already healed from where he had dug the little tracker out.
Steve didn't know what to make of Fury or SHIELD. He was grateful for them finding him and all, but the tracker didn't endear him to them much.
He glanced through the large glass windows that allowed one to see the various agents sparing as he followed after Fury.
A glint of silver caught his attention—they allowed weapons during friendly spars?—and his head snapped to the side and his eyes widened at the sight that met his gaze.
There was a petite woman fighting a man almost twice her size and she was winning. The silver was actually one of her arms and he winced in sympathy as he caught sight of the mess of scars that circled her left shoulder where the silver arm met it—only visible because of the thin-straps of her vest.
She was pale little thing with short hair pulled back into a rough ponytail. She was fast, darting in and out with quick punches that made her sparring partner stumble back with grunts of pain.
She kept on the balls of her feet and was constantly on the move as she pushed her partner to be on the defence as she kept up an almost brutal series of punches.
He winced as one of her punches caught the man's nose and he reeled back as blood poured from the obviously broken nose. He glanced at Fury to see his lips pressed tightly together as he near-glowered at the woman before he tapped sharply on the glass.
The man glanced up at Fury though the woman ignored him as she delivered a brutal high kick that brought the man to the ground with a painful thump.
"Hope!" Fury barked as he almost pounded on the glass again and finally the woman looked up and pinned both Fury and Steve with mismatched eyes and an annoyed look. "Here, now."
Steve could hear Fury's teeth grinding together as the woman rolled her eyes before spinning on her heel. She barely paused to throw her dark towel over her right shoulder and grabbed a large and half empty water bottle before she left the room as some other agents moved to help their fallen comrade.
A whisper of bare feet on carpet floor made Steve look up and he felt his ears burn as he realised how little the woman was actually wearing—a black pair of shorts raised low on her hips, showing the sharp edge of her hip bones and a hint of a scar that cut into the right side of her stomach, and a thin dark grey vest that clung with to her body because of her light sheen of sweat.
He got he was in the future, but still couldn't understand why women now wore so little clothes. Was there no modesty in the world anymore?
The woman, Hope, glanced at him once with her duo-coloured eyes before turning her gaze onto Fury as she took the lid of her bottle and took a long drink—obviously unconcerned with whatever Fury was about to say.
"What did I say about breaking bones in friendly spars?" Fury growled as soon as she swallowed her water and let dangle from her silver fingers as she wiped her mouth with the back of her right hand in a very unladylike fashion.
"Not to," she answered in annoyed way with a single shrug of her shoulders making Fury glare down at her with his single dark eye—Steve was surprised at the British accent that she spoke with.
Fury than began to almost rant at her as he told her off with Hope absently nodding along though Steve doubted she was really listening.
Steve ignored her lack of dress as he took her in more with the eyes of an artist and a soldier. Hope had the taunt muscles of a soldier under her pale skin—it hardly looked like it had seen any sun—and her features probably made her seem younger than she really was—Steve couldn't guess her age, she looked younger than him, acting younger, but Steve was almost sure that she was older than his twenty-five years.
She was about as tall as he used to be pre-serum days though it was obvious by the mostly one-sided spar he saw that it didn't hinder her in a fight—she was obviously used to fighting those taller than her.
Something about her was odd, the punch that had broken the other agent's nose had seemed like a glancing blow of her right fist that shouldn't have done as much damage as it had done. It almost reminded him when he was sparing with the Commandos and forgot about his strength for a moment and ended up breaking Dum-Dum's or Bucky's nose by accident.
But that couldn't be possible, Erskine's serum had been lost with his death. She couldn't be like him, could she?
"That it," Fury suddenly snapped almost making both Steve and Hope jump as they looked at him—Steve with straight-back soldier posture that looked painfully rigid to Hope's eyes and Hope straight and yet slightly slumped posture that only modern teenagers could pull off. "You're new partner is Captain Rogers, at least he'll be able to heal whatever damage you level him and might actually beat the snot out of you."
Fury sounded pleased of the idea of Steve beating the snot out of the short woman which made the good soldier glance at the dark-skinned man with slightly wide-eyes.
Hope just scoffed.
"I heal at a much faster rate than him," she pointed out with simple certainty that made it clear that Hope was like Steve—perhaps better in certain abilities. "From the old reports, he hardly used his strength and thus hasn't expanded the level of strength since he was first injected while I push myself to raise my standard level of strength." She paused for a brief moment and shot Steve a look. "Plus he looks too much of a gentlemen to beat the snot out of me, or attempt to."
"I've had enough of you breaking the bones of my agents because something has annoyed you," Fury growled. "You'll be partners with Captain Rogers, you'll get him up-to-date with the world and such. And you will not complain."
"Fat fuckin' chance," she scoffed as Steve stared at her with slightly too wide of eyes as he had never heard a woman swear so bluntly, especially in front of her boss, and he dimly wondered if he really wanted to get to know the future.
Fury had never paired me up with anyone before, I was normally added to Natasha's, Clint's or Coulson's missions as he knew they were the only SHIELD agents that I liked and mildly trusted.
So I was immediately suspicious that he had paired me with Steve Rogers as I totally didn't believe the real reason was that Fury wanted to see someone beat the snot out of me—Steve Rogers may have come from a time when there was no laws against men beating their wives, but he was too much of a gentlemen—too much a good guy—to actually beat the snot out of me.
It was odd that he would pair us up, I wasn't loyal to SHIELD and Steve hadn't made any motion about being loyal SHIELD though he was being a good soldier—it wouldn't last long as SHIELD had too many secrets and such for Steve to really feel comfortable.
Ah well, no one could really understand what goes through Fury's mind on a daily basis.
"Here," Hope thrust some of Clint's old tops into Steve's arms—for some reason Clint enjoyed dumping his old tops on Hope as he knew that she would wear his t-shirts. "You stick out like a sore thumb, you can keep the trousers until we take you shopping to get something more modern."
Steve blinked down at the dark tops with various faded patterns on them before looking up to ask something of Hope only to blush and stumble as he spun quickly around—she was taking her top off!
"You really are a 40s man," she sounded deeply amused as he heard her shuffle through her drawers.
"Modesty is an old-fashioned thing then?" his voice cracked embarrassingly.
"Na," she answered as he heard clothes being pulled onto skin. "There is still some modesty in the world, not much, but some. I just have none."
"Right," he replied making her laugh lightly.
"Change tops already," she startled him by placing her hand on his shoulder—making her snicker. "We're going out to see some of my friends."
"Right," he swallowed and did as she told him too awkwardly as she packed her bag and slung it over her shoulder—she had changed into jeans that raised low on her hips and a faded red t-shirt with some sort of design on it, she had stuffed her feet into some sneakers with mismatched soaks and seemed wholly unconcerned that her silver arm was in clear view and made him wonder if nothing surprised modern people any more.
Cars weren't as common back in his day as they seemed to be now. Hope had led him to a slim dark car—obviously very modern—and had slipped into the driver's seat with ease—obviously it was more common for women to drive now.
He winced as the engine rumbled to life as the radio came on and blasted horribly modern music that Hope sung along too—she wasn't a good singer—and told him that it was called alternative music before pulling out of the underground garage and on to the almost packed road.
There was no shift-stick Steve realised as Hope slid in and out of the roads and between cars, taking risks that made him attempt to brake making her laugh lightly as she drove out of the city.
There was no hesitate in her motions as she drove, and she didn't seem to be looking at any of the signs as she drove—obviously she knew the route well.
"What's your feelings on mutants?" she asked suddenly.
"What?" Steve asked stupidly making her shot him a small look of annoyance before she returned her gaze back to the road.
"What's your feelings on mutants?" she asked again, slowly this time like he was being dim making him flush.
"What are mutants?" Steve asked because he had never dealt with 'mutants' in the war or before.
"Never mind," she shook her head. "Just don't freak out alright?"
"Okay," he said warily.
Where-ever Steve had been expecting Hope to take them, it wasn't a school. He kept his silence as they drove up the drive-way of Xavier's School of the Gifted before Hope killed the engine and finally there was blessed silence from what they now were calling music.
She climbed out of the car just as what Steve could only call a portal appeared—showing what was probably the inside of the school—and a teen darted out, with shockingly bright pink hair and green eyes, straight into Hope's ready arms, who greeted the teen with a fond 'Clarice' before Clarice was followed by a taller teen, male this time, with dark skin and dark hair brushing his broad shoulders.
He stood in easy reach of Hope and barely scowled at her as she reached up to mess up his hair with her surprisingly long and slender fingers as she greeted him with an equally fond 'James'.
Steve could understand why Hope had asked him not to freak out, he had never seen anyone like the girl before in his life. So these were mutants.
James had noticed Steve before Clarice and stared at him with wary dark eyes as Hope pulled back, though she left one arm wrapped around Clarice's slim shoulders, and gave Steve a look of pure threat and warning—Fury may have made them partners but Hope's loyalty already belonged to the mutant teens and Steve knew from the look in her duo-coloured eyes that she wouldn't hesitate in putting one of her blades concealed on her body through his eye and into his brain if he, in anyway, threated them or caused them harm in any shape or form.
That type of loyalty reminded him of Bucky, of the Commandos, of Peggy, so Steve just smiled at the two teens and his partner that strangely only made his partner look more distrusting of him—Fury had really given him a difficult partner, hadn't he?
(Steve had the vague thought that it could be some type of revenges for him taking out some of his agents and making him have to track him down in the middle of Times Square in New York)
If Steve thought the future was strange before, he definitely thought it was insane now as he watched with wide-eyes as teens walked through the halls of Xavier's school with some of them showing examples of amazing powers—powers straight out of a comic book.
There was an ease to Hope that wasn't there in SHIELD and it was obvious that she was well-known as many would pause to talk to her for a bit or offer her a warm greeting as they hurried to their next class.
"You know," Clarice was walking backwards so she could look at both him and James, one of her hands linked with Hope's so she could led the younger woman. "You look like Captain America from the comics and the old movies that Logan has."
"Logan has Captain America movies?" Hope sounded very amused making James smirk from beside him.
"He does," he nodded making Hope flash him a smile over her shoulder.
"Well, he did fight in the war," Hope paused and looked back at Steve thoughtfully. "You actually may know him."
"Maybe," Steve wasn't looking forward to seeing someone he may have fought with as an old man.
"I thought I smelt you," a gruff male voice came from above and it sounded familiar so Steve's head snapped up to see James Logan looking the same as he did almost seventy years ago looking down at them on the stairs.
"Logan!" Hope greeted as she bounded up the stairs and easily wrapped her arms around him, but Logan's gaze had moved to Steve.
"Captain Steve Rogers," he stated with one arm wrapping around Hope's slim waist. "You look good for a dead guy."
"And you look good for an old guy," Steve said in turn making Hope muffle a laugh in Logan's shoulder and Logan smirked.
He had fought with James Logan, they hadn't been close but they knew each other in passing. James Logan kept close to Victor Creed and Steve kept close to Bucky.
It was strange watching Steve and Logan share drinks as Logan got the Captain up-to-date to the goings on in the world.
Neither could get more than a slightly buzz from the alcohol they were sharing as their metabolisms ran too fast to actually get drunk.
Still it gave me plenty of time to catch-up with the goings on in Xavier's, play a few games with the younger kids and made sure everything was going alright for Clarice and James and if they heard from Bishop—he was already on a crusade to save mutants from various camps.
I would have helped him, but Fury would explode if I tried.
"Why are you with SHIELD?" Steve asked much later that night as she drove them back to SHIELD HQ.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You're loyal to Xavier's, so why are you with SHIELD?" Steve asked again.
Hope's jaw clenched and Steve was about to say sorry for asking when she spoke.
"Before 2007, I didn't exist really," she said. "I was found by SHIELD after they attacked my transport—I had been a prisoner and experiment for the last two years—and that set me up with a life though there was a catch—SHIELD basically owes me, I'm an experiment Super-Soldier, and they will never let me slip through their claws." She glanced at him then. "I don't have a choice Steve, from the moment they found me I didn't have a choice, and neither do you really. SHIELD basically owes us."
Steve frowned at that.
"Neither of us has a choice, do we?" he asked quietly and Hope shook her head in agreement. "They won't owe us forever."
Hope gave him a look that told him what exactly she thought of his seemingly naïve and optimistic comment.
"I hate optimistic people," she grumbled as she drove making Steve smile.
It wasn't Steve being optimistic, it was a promise. Someday Steve would make sure they were free from SHIELD—or as free as one possibly could be from SHIELD.