Driven Mad (Book 1 in the MAD Series)(An Avengers Fan Fiction)

Steve Rogers

Steve threw his shield at his opponents, glad to be back on a battlefield where he knew what he was doing. It was the closest he’d come to being back in the war, which he somewhat missed. He caught his shield again and blocked a bullet, then quickly fighting off a soldier. For a moment he felt like he was really back on the battlefield in the war, fighting against Hitler or Red Skull or HYDRA…

He could almost feel the cold chill that he felt on one of his many missions back during the war. He could feel the freezing wind nipping at his bare skin. He knew that mission. The mission on the train was coming back to haunt him for the millionth time. It was the mission when he’d lost Bucky. Flashbacks came back to haunt him as he fought; only fueling his rage for battle.

He looked up and he could vaguely make out where the Helicarrier was. It was unnoticeable unless you knew exactly where it was. He knew that Darcy was up there, and if this crazed army got up there, they’d kill whoever stood in their way of reaching Dr. Banner and Dr. Ross. He knew that if he didn’t protect the Helicarrier on the ground, they’d get up there and kill Darcy, Bruce, and Betty. He couldn’t lose another person because of the Avengers. He’d hardly got over Agent Coulson’s death, and if he couldn’t protect Darcy, he’d never forgive himself.

Steve spotted a red and blue blur, swinging in the air and kicking out the soldiers. Still fighting, Steve saw a man in a skintight red and blue suit, swinging from a web like a spider. Steve stared at the man-spider, using his other senses to fight. He looked vaguely familiar, like he’d seen him somewhere before but not really paid any attention. He fought despite how baffled he was, not totally focused like he should be.

He turned away from the spider, focusing on the fight. His mind flashed back to a year and a half earlier, hearing Phil’s final words over the receiver. He could hear it again, hearing him say that it was all apart of the plan. Steve felt like it was his entire fault that Phil was dead, though it was Loki who murdered him. He felt the small place in his pocket where he kept the vintage cards which had once belonged to his biggest fan, Agent Phil Coulson.

This is for you, Phil… Steve thought as he hurtled his shield at several soldiers, knocking them out easily. The shield knocked against the tank and flew back into his hand. He quickly rammed it into another soldier’s chest, jumping over the soldier. He was haunted in that moment by his old memories. He could see himself before the super soldier serum, standing in the chamber, needles forced in his arms, the serum rushing through him; not understanding what was happening but knowing that it hurt. He could feel Peggy’s lips pressed passionately into his own, knowing that she had been the right partner all along, the wind rushing around them as he was about to risk his life, not knowing he’d have to end it for the next seventy years in a matter of minutes.

Steve flipped over a couple of armed soldiers, evading the bullets they shot at him. He threw the shield, knocking the guns from their reach. He quickly threw a punch at one and elbowed the other in the chest. He grabbed the shield as he knocked down the soldiers. He knew what they felt, the fact that they were fighting for something that they believed was right. Steve felt the same way. But there was only one problem: they couldn’t both be right.

Steve had always been a natural-born fighter, a soldier for sure. He may have not been born strong, but he had the heart of a warrior. A lot of people didn’t care about is morals or motives or heart or soul, though. Until Dr. Erksine saw that in him, they wouldn’t pay him any attention. Look how far I’ve come. I’m in my nineties and I look like I’m under thirty. I’m an Avenger. I’m a hero forever. I’ll save the world over and over for as long as it takes. You just didn’t see it. Steve thought to himself. It brought the fighter out in him, strengthening him.

Steve jumped up, grabbing onto the tank that towered above him. He swung up above the fight, tossing his shield again, throwing it down and knocking down a few more soldiers. He had wounds from the battle, but they were healing quickly. He wiped up a little blood that dripped from his hand. Readjusting his mask, he leaped down from the top of the tank and grabbed his shield before anyone else could get to it.