AN: Editing what has already been edited twice and rewritten is not fun...Also, must I include another disclaimer? I think it's pretty clear to everyone that what Marvel owns, I do not.

Chapter Three

After that not-so-fun encounter, I hid in my aunt's loft for over a week. I think today is day twelve. This is all due to a certain someone moving into the building, into the apartment right across the hall. This someone was named Chris Evans. Or Steve Rogers, whatever he wants to be called.

What? Don't judge me. The guy freaked me out last time I saw him, I'm not exactly eager to run into him a third time.

Despite being stuck at home for twelve days, I haven't been completely unproductive. I caught up on all my school work online and finished the exam reviews early. Way, way early. I also decided to do some research-like activities regarding the Marvel fandom. 'Why?' you might ask? Because, well, it's gone. It's just gone. Everything Marvel is gone.

It started with my phone case. Then, I noticed that every piece of Marvel paraphernalia that I owned just disappeared from my bedroom. Yeah. I cried. Tears are welling up in my eyes right now just thinking about it.

Anyway, to make things even weirder, searching for Marvel-related things on the Internet only took me to news articles and other informational texts. Updates on Stark Industries and OsCorp, interviews with Tony Stark, reports on the Harlem Incident and the mysterious hammer they found in New Mexico. There were old Captain America films, as well as history textbook excerpts on him, the Howling Commandos, and HYDRA. Superhero conspiracy theories filled online forums and blogs. Social justice blogs suddenly included mutant rights—it was all so overwhelming.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say I'm in the Marvel Universe. One of them, at least, but I do know better, so I can't be. Things are just extremely weird right now, that's all…

oOoOoOo

A week and a half ended up being my breaking point. I know, I'm weak. I couldn't stand another day holed up in my apartment—I actually ran out of decent Netflix shows to watch. After mentally prepping myself the entire previous day, I have successfully put myself in the mindset that I should get out of the apartment, at least to go to school, and be a good student for the remaining six weeks.

Unfortunately, as I'm about to leave for school, I realize that my building does not have a fire escape, so the only option for any sort of escape is walking out the front door. And, in doing so, I get to greet my new neighbour.

"God fucking dammit," I sigh. I turn to leave, but "Steve Rogers" grabs my arm and I'm stuck awkwardly standing in the entrance of the building.

"I need to speak with you," he says. It's definitely a statement, not a question—absolutely no inflection—hinting that I really don't have a choice here.

"I have classes to attend, and textbooks can be quite effective weapons in certain situations…" I briefly scan his physique, or, well, I try to make it brief. I mean, it's Chris Evans, what can I do? "…and clearly this is not one. So, you wanted to talk?"

He lets go of my arm, and I think about possibly running away before I realize that outrunning this man is probably impossible when you're short and have the lung capacity of a small child. Which I am, and do. If I even had a chance of getting away from this man, I'd need the element of surprise, which I've already lost.

Several minutes later, we're sitting outside the Starbucks down the street, while a street performer singing and playing the ukulele fills the awkward silence between us.

I hold my hand up as I pause to very slowly take a sip of my tea. I allow about two minutes to pass before I set the cup down and say, "Okay, shoot."

"I'd like to know how you knew about Captain America. And Schmidt, and the Tesseract," he says.

I'm beginning to wonder if this really is all some sort of prank. That sounded like a trick question. I mean, technically it was another demand, but still.

What the hell is even going on? I mean, assuming this is the Marvel universe, and the man sitting in front of me is, in fact, Steve Rogers—no. That's impossible. How could any of this be real? It's highly improbable that I somehow ended up in the Marvel universe. It's probably a dream, or some freak hallucination. That, or someone is trying very hard to pull an elaborate prank on me.

But, at the same time, if this is actually Chris Evans, he sure is going through a lot of trouble to convince me that I've magically been teleported into the Marvel universe. I mean, what is his deal? I have a life, I have shit to do. Being an actor, he must also have a life and a lot more shit to do than I, yet he himself even seems like he believes in…well…all of this, whatever this is. I mean, it's almost as if—

…

oOo