My Old Friend :: Closed
@pickingthestitches
Steve remembered very distinctly, watching the infamous Schmidt grab a hold of the Tesseract and being pulled through the portal to God knows where. He recalled thinking that after everything the Red Skull had put him through and caused, it wasn’t enough. Whatever pain the wormhole had caused, couldn’t at all come close to the agony Rogers wanted him to suffer.
Worse yet, was the knowing how it all ended. Rogers had to crash the plane into the ice, lost seventy years of his life. Lost Carter, everyone. He didn’t want to give Zola credit, but the man might’ve had a point when he said Steve had died for nothing. Because it sure as Hell felt like it.
Yet luck was on the Captain’s side, it seemed. While the world wouldn’t have considered the returned of the Hydra founder a boon, Steve did. He considered it all the best of luck when he caught the Red Skull, locking him away in some warehouse that wasn’t unlike something the terrorist organization would own.
Was it right, hitting a man who couldn’t find back?
No.
But it sure did feel good.
Steve hadn’t asked anything for the first few days, he had just used Schmidt as a punching bag. Every day he hit harder, the frustration of events passed working their way to the surface, things that weren’t even the Red Skull’s fault, Rogers was silently blaming him for.
But today, today was different.
Today, he sat down on a stool opposite of his bloodied prisoner, watching with a sinister gleam in his eyes. Curiosity had been biting at his brain for a few days, so he decided he was going to talk to his old acquaintance.
“Everyone wrote you off as dead,” Steve stated, breaking the fuming silence between them. His smile was small, contented. He enjoyed seeing Johann lose. “How’d you get back?”
