Chapter 1 – Steven Rogers
Weight. That is all I feel. Weight. I try to lift my eyelids but it seems impossible. I keep trying and finally I can pry them open. I look around and see that I am in a bright white room. I look down and see that I am in my old army shirt and khaki pants. I don’t remember ever putting these on. All I remember is water and ice. I hear the handle of the door start to turn. I look up and see a women in a uniform.
“Good morning, or should I say afternoon.” She says.
“Where am I?” I ask her.
“You’re in a recovery room in New York City.”
“Where am I really?” I ask, getting closer to demanding.
“I am afraid I don’t understand.” She says.
“The game. It’s from May, 1941. I know because I was there. Now I am going to ask you again, where am I?” I demand, I am angry now.
“Who are you?”
“Captain Rogers, wait,” I don’t even wait for her to finish I just run out. I run through the halls as some kind of alarm goes off. I run out into the streets and I see all of these glowing boards with unfamiliar images and words.
“At ease soldier!” a dark man in a black coat says.
“Captain Rogers,” the women who was standing next to him said, “I am very sorry about that whole production back there. I just thought it would be better to break it to you slowly.”
“Captain Rogers,” I say. He looks at me, he looks like a hurt puppy. “I am very sorry about that whole production back there. I just thought it would be better to break it to you slowly.”
“Break what?” he asks skeptically.
“You have been asleep, Captain Rogers, for almost seventy years.” My voice shrinks as I tell him. I feel really sorry for him and I let it show on my face.
“You gonna be okay?” Fury asks Rogers.
“Yeah,” he replies. “I just… I had a date.”
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