Played by the Enemy || Captain America || Book 2

Chapter 19: Murphy's Law

History.

History is just another word for story, because that's all history is; the best tales. The ones that last. They're like legends – lessons – they ring with truth. Not all of our history is accurate, but with the modern age and all its glorious technology, we're finding out more about ourselves as a race and the stories that make up us as a society and species today.

History is stubborn, and not always generous to its subordinates. The various sicknesses, discrimination, wars and suppressing rulers/countries have proven that. But like a good story, history enjoys not only its villains, but its heroes.

Muhammad. Martin Luther King Jr. Alan Turing. Mother Teresa. George Washington. Leonardo Da Vinci. The after effects of what people like these accomplished is still felt today. Heroes are people we can look up to, to aspire to. That's why stories love them so much. That's why history has loved them so much, and when you learn of a story with a grand hero from our own history rather than a fictional one, it makes that idea that becoming one and aspiring to be one isn't so impossible. Heroes are real people.

Steven Grant Rogers is a real person.

I hope so at least, because if he isn't and just some figment of my unstable imagination, then talk about the last two books being awkies.

"A symbol to the nation – a hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honour, bravery and sacrifice."

"You know, with things like these, it's a wonder to the world that your ego isn't as big as Tony's. I mean seriously, I can see at least four walls covered by your face at the moment."

Steve chuckles quietly, tugging his incognito cap down a bit further. That cap is about as successful at hiding his identity as Clark Kent's glasses. "Can't say I haven't been tempted," he jokes, taking in the vast information printed on the walls and interaction exhibits.

A tender, heart-warming blanket of emotions envelops me like a cocoon upon seeing all the kids running around bursting at the seams with excitement; true, unadulterated admiration for the man standing right next to me making them glow with indescribable joy and elation.

"Denied enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a programme unique in the annals of American warfare. One that would transform him into the world's first Super Soldier."

An almost inhumane squeal erupts past my lips, startling Steve enough that he actually jumps from the abruptness. I practically super speed over to the full body photo of pre-serum Steve Rogers on the wall, turning to face him with a dropped jaw smile. "Oh. My. God. This is yo—Captain America before the serum?" I catch myself just in time, yet my enthusiasm doesn't even plummet an inch.

One parent even lifts his child up to raise him to the same height as the pre-serum Steve Rogers printed on the wall, who, may I say, is stood so awkwardly yet in such an endearing and adorable manner that I think I'll come back to this place by myself on several occasions just to see it.

"Yeah, not much to look at huh?" He's rather dismal about it, yet the nostalgic smile ghosts his lips at the distant memories undoubtedly plaguing his head.

My jaw drops again, yet this time, it's not from the giddiness of the situation. "What are you talking about? You—he is adorable. All he did was acquire some muscles and peak athleticism. That serum didn't make him a hero, or a good man. He was given that serum because he already had the makings of a hero, a good man. I told you after we got ice cream; he was Captain America before the serum was even in his body. If I was around back then, I would've found it an absolute honour to have known him even if he didn't get that serum."