Not That Lucky

#26: There Are No Strings On Me

"Then technically you're unemployed." Steve replied. He shifted again and Strucker mimicked him. Now Steve had his back to the staircase and Strucker was cornered. "Where is Loki's scepter?"

"Don't worry. I know when I'm beat." Strucker raised his hands in surrender. Steve noticed the suitcase held tightly in his hand. It wasn't glowing though, so he assumed that meant the asshole hadn't stuck some part of the scepter in there. Still, Steve wondered what was important enough for Strucker to grab. "You'll mention how I cooperated, I hope."

Steve nodded, "I'll put it right under 'illegal human experimentation'." He clenched and unclenched his jaw in annoyance, "How many are there?"

Strucker smirked and Steve narrowed his eyes in confusion. A deep voice chuckled in amusement from the space to his right where the other exit was, "Oh, just the two."

Seconds later there was a flash of red to his right and a sudden force slammed into his abdomen and sent him falling head over heels down the stairs. Steve caught himself halfway down. He grunted into his comm unit, "Second inhuman. Female. Do not engage." Steve shoved himself back up the steps, but Strucker and the inhuman in red had disappeared. He pressed a hand to his earpiece. "Strucker is on the run."

"They're pretty fucking cool, huh?" The same voice said again. Steve turned to see a familiar face leaning against the stone railing a few feet away. Vincent Morgan. The Reaper. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back and matched the scruff on his jawline. There was a metal contraption wrapped around the arm Aj had broken. He grinned, wide and feral, "Absolutely insane kids. Letting that nazi bastard play around in their brains or fucking whatever, but hey... They got some cool perks from it."

"We've been looking for you." Steve felt his shoulders stiffen. This was the man who had tried to rip Aj away from them. The man who would've succeeded if Peter hadn't swung in to stop him.

Vincent knocked his knuckles against the railing, "You know, I've been looking for you too, Cap. I think you and me could be real good friends."

"I seriously doubt that." Steve growled.

"Oh, come on. You, me, and little itty, bitty Small Fry—" Vincent spat out the name Aj used in the ring and Steve hated hearing it. He continued with a smirk, "We're birds of a feather. Deep down we're all the same." He grinned and snapped his finger once as if a sudden, great idea occurred to him. "We should start a club! Get matching jackets and the like."

"She's nothing like you." Steve snapped. "Neither of us are."

"Oh, think about it, Stevie." Vincent replied. "You can take Small Fry out of the ring, but you can't take the ring outta Small Fry! She'll always be a bloodthirsty, little monster—"

Steve lunged forward, but Vincent slid back and pulled out a gun. He froze, stiffened at the sight, and cursed his temper. This wasn't a good situation to be in. He had his shield, but in the time it would take to throw it Vincent would pull the trigger. Steve could survive a lot, but not a bullet to the head.

"I'm not done talking, Steven. Don't fucking interrupt me. It's rude." Vincent chuckled. He waved the gun once, "But do you get my point? Small Fry can't take the ring out of herself, just like we can't take the war out of ourselves." Vincent shrugged. "We're soldiers, Captain. Soldiers who they pulled out of the war years ago, you a few more years than me—" He laughed at his own joke, "—But that doesn't change anything. We'll always be soldiers, won't we?"

Steve shook his head, "You're wrong. I'm more than that, and Aj and I? We have nothing in common with you. You're a bastard. An evil man who's hurt a lot of people, and I'm taking you in."