Heroes ▷ Captain America

Prologue

00; depression

Evelyn Mason's father was many things.

Jasper Mason was a good man, the best she'd ever known. He was a family man, came home at six each night, kissed his wife in greeting then went to check on his daughter who was in her room writing or drawing. She was ten in 1929, she was too young to notice that as the days went on, her father came home later, rarely showed affection and didn't care for any of the drawings she made. She even found some ripped up on the ground, they all seemed to be of him.

Jasper Mason was a calm man, if someone had something to say about him, he would listen and then try to resolve the matter without conflict. And usually, the conflict never came, the matter would be over and the person and himself would walk off with no qualms toward the other party. She was eleven in 1930, slightly prone to picking up on her father's screaming matches with friends he's had for years suddenly asking for a place to stay for the night. Her mother had become the voice of reason in the house, because the previous voice had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and couldn't get the words out.

Her father was a happy man, at one time maybe. He would greet people in the streets, people would return the greeting. Evelyn had taken walks with him when he was happy, the streets teeming with working people with jobs and the world seemed all the more nicer. One day, when her father was passed out in bed(he never seemed to go to work anymore), she took a walk on her own. Streets no longer had men in suits and woman with pristine looks, instead it had men in rags begging for a bite to eat and woman working street corner for a quick buck.

At seventeen, Evelyn Mason realised that it wasn't just her father out of work, it was the whole city, perhaps the whole country.

Her father had to know everything. Everyday, even after getting fired he had a newspaper in hand, he would read it even when the power was off because he couldn't pay the bills. It was a miracle they were scraping by, her mother barely maintained her job at an office down in Brooklyn but the pay was horrible. The Mason family didn't care though, at least it was something. One day, as he read the grubby paper he stood up and walked away, leaving it in his wake. The door slammed shut, leaving the two woman to wonder what had bugged him. Evelyn rose from her chair and smoothed the section her father had gotten worked up about.

'England and France declare war on Nazi party leader Adolf Hitler. Dark times for all.'

And just when the world was bleak and unforgiving, that night when eighteen year old Evelyn went to bed, her father hugged that little bit tighter for the first time in years.

Her father never told lies, he was transparent. That's what her mother used to say with a smile which earned her an arm around her shoulder. Now she regrets saying it with a grim, pale face, wishing that that arm would hug her one more time. She lay in bed at night, and sometimes if Evelyn listened for it, she could hear tiny whimpers and muttered prayers of return. Whenever he went away for business or otherwise, he left nothing unsaid. Letters were detailed and left nothing that would make anyone assume he was doing something else. This time he left his family in the dark, wondering if a letter would pop through the door, giving their little ember of hope fuel to start a fire. One day, as Evelyn and her mother sat at the dinning table in silence, a knock sounded.

"Mrs. Mason." it was a man in a police uniform, Evelyn turned grey beside her mother. "We need you to come with us, your daughter too." both Mason women cooperated and followed the young police officer to the car that lead them to the police station. They were frightened as to what her father had done. They were lead into a cold metal room filled with a surgical table, a body and a sheet covering it. A man in a doctors uniform entered, a solemn look on his face. He removed the sheet and left the family to witness the sight. Her mother gasped, crying out in sorrow as she was faced with the dead body of her beloved husband, a man who used to kiss her and tell her everything was okay. He was blue, he was bloated and worst of all, he was wet. During this time( a time people called the Great Depression), many people had taken to the river to commit suicide because they couldn't face not being able to feed their families or sleeping in an alley every night. She never thought her husband would take to doing that.

When America was gearing up for war against Germany and Japan, nothing else seemed to matter except the memories of what a great man her father once was.

Because really, her father was many great things. Depression just seemed to shine through more than the others.