Falling for the Enemy || Captain America || Book 1

Chapter 40: Absolutely Badass

"I knew it was you!"

"Me?! You think it's me!? Ha! You're even more delusional than I thought Richards."

"This is all bullshit."

"Obviously it's you Sam! You're the son to Victor Von Doom and an ex-HYDRA agent! You're the only one who gets a gain out of all this!"

"I had a clue that you didn't like me Storm, but that is too far, even for you."

"I always thought your silences were just because you were stingy Logan, but were you just standing by and watching so you could report back to Amos?"

"Look big guy, I ain't got nothing against ya, but if you accuse me of something like that again I'll stick my claws into your green skull, no matter how angry you are."

"So what are you really doing here Mr Queen? You in it with Malcom Merlyn or what? Tommy was your friend after all, it only makes sense you would help his father."

"This isn't accomplishing anything."

"As long as no one throws fire, I can somewhat handle this. Not really, but fire would make it so much worse."

This. Is. Mayhem.

I roll my eyes, using all my strength to push myself from the couch — almost as hard as trying to get out of bed in the morning — and walk away. When I reach Stark's bar, I down the rest of his glass of Scotch then hop on top of the bench nonchalantly, overdramatically sighing as I turn to face the chaos the room has erupted into. I wonder how they would react if I burst into song right now.... Na, I've used that on them before.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and considering I'm still trying to think of a way to make them shut up, I check it to see one text from Colton.

I'm stuck in a room filled with drug addicts, teenage mums and binge drinkers. Please tell me you're having a better day than me — CM

My eyebrows come together in a perplexed frown, my fingers typing away as something near me shatters.

Wish I could say I am, but I'm stuck in a room filled with arguing super heroes who think that they can solve their dilemmas by throwing furniture and fire. It's even worse when a good 50% have a weird vase throwing fetish. Better than knives, but vases? Really? What's wrong with pillows and pies? Oooooooo I'm so throwing a pie at Johnny — LN

Looking around for a few brief moments, I decide to type a follow up text.

What are you doing win a room filled withdrug addicts, teenage mums and binge drinkers? Don't tell me you're in a council group, or an alcohol anonymous group. Do you pass around a talking stick? Oh! Do you have to start off with like 'Hi, my name is Colton, and I'm an alcohol addict' and then they all say 'Hi Colton' and you talk about yourself? I'm so attending your next meeting — LN

His reply is quick.

Some days I think I would prefer that. No, I work in the NYPD. I'm a detective here, and right now I'm detecting that the man sitting in a cell to the right of me wants to stab me with the closest sharp object he can get his hands on — CM

Wait.... detective? Ping!

If you didn't know what that was, that was a light bulb going off in my head.

You owe me a favour, and now I'm cashing it in — LN

I feel one of Stark repulsor beams skim my face, but I weave to the side currently preoccupied and don't veer my gaze from the phone.