whatever it takes

Both men were on edge, that was clear by the body language alone. Neither were sure if the other could be trusted and that was within good reason. Brock didn’t know if Steve would believe him or even trust him enough to get started somewhere. Not only that, what if he turned him in just for being here? These were all risks he was willing to take to prove he wasn’t the man everyone believed he was during Project Insight. “Aside from the fact you’re also on the run, they at least listen to you whenever they decide this bullshit is over with.” He said motioning to their surroundings, representing the world around them in a way. “They’re not gonna believe a word I say.” 

“We don’t have time to just wait around,” she retorted, very much aware of the other Captain’s irritation and unable to find it within her to care. “The situation is too delicate for that. Too many people could get hurt. We’d have the element of surprise, I say we go for it.”

Natalia never had another choice. “I figured any man I’d marry would be better to me than my own father…imagine my relief and joy to find my future husband has a caring heart. I would have rather faced my own death than live another day under my father’s hand…”

It was a quite heavy confession for the princess to make, and it wasn’t one she would’ve said out loud if she hadn’t wished for it to actually happen. After one meeting she felt more safe with Steve than she’d ever felt before. 

“My father never had a son. So he raised me to be the second best…any man I marry takes his throne. I had to be perfect.”

               Steven couldn’t help the way his cheeks heated beneath the princess’ words, heart suddenly feeling heavier in his chest than it had been only moments ago. “I do not know your father, but I could ascertain as much with the little time I spent with him. I am pleased that you find value in this marriage, however, as I’ve never seen much value in myself.” 

“Thankfully, the demographic that will want to make you do things that make you super uncomfortable is rapidly decreasing in size,” Alexis begins, flipping her presentation pad open to BOOMER SHRINKAGE. She does a double-take at her own writing. “Okay, I could have possibly chosen better wording for that.” 

She flips to the next page: YOUNG ANARCHISTS. “Now, no one is saying that you should be throwing bricks through windows or anything.” She winks, because hey, sometimes people want to throw bricks and she is fine with that as long as he doesn’t get caught. “But, the pool of young people dissatisfied with the current US government is extremely vocal, and pissed. What you and I need to do together is briiiiidge that gap.” 

Flip.  ROSE 

Flip.  ROOSV 

Flip. ROOSEVELT. 

“I have been watching a lot, I mean, a lot of FDR speeches—oh, he was the president in the thirties, you probably knew him, exciting!—and I think he is your perfect role model. You want to be refined and, like, distinguished and composed, because old people love that, but your stances have to be firm and extreme for the kids. You’re, like, super good at the firm and extreme part, love that you know yourself, but we need to curate an image of, like, dignified, quiet strength, too. I’m not saying you have to become an entirely different person! The main strategy is to set up some verified social media accounts for you that can channel your passion into a cleaner, FDR meets Leslie Knope kind of public image. And from there you just avoid public speaking as often as possible. You won’t even have to worry about running the accounts, I have people for that, I’ll just have to take pictures of you every so often for Instagram.”

                   Thankfully, Steve knew exactly what generation that Alexis was talking about. Boomers. That’s what he’d heard Sam call them, at least. The generation that came from his, the one after the Silent Generation. Apparently, they caused a lot of issues in the political sphere, and Steve really didn’t know where people his age went wrong, there. It’d always been a family atmosphere in the Borough, but that was the past. Times had changed and apparently morals had, too. Screw Boomers. Steve didn’t respect bullies, no matter how old they were. 

“Never underestimate New Yorkers’ capacity for finding new and exciting ways to be weird and stupid. That’s fatally faulty thinking on your part. I’m appalled.” He resisted the urge to keep going with the sigil he was trying to cast, which was going to lock down a particularly nasty dimensional anomaly that was due to erupt in just a few hours. He’d thought he was being clever and proactive, going out early and taking care of his business. But getting cornered in the boondocks by an anxious gunman was less than ideal. “I’m trying to keep something from blowing up, and I’m using magic to do it. Probably none of which is going to make you take your finger off the trigger, but it’s true nonetheless.”