Fallen Heroes | Marvel/CATWS {2}

Chapter 8: Where It All Began

You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life. –Winston Churchill

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I don't know what I excepted the location to be, but it wasn't an old Army camp. The light is starting to fade when the truck we "borrowed" comes to a stop in front of the locked gate leading into the camp. I climb out of the back seat, pausing long enough to grab Vindex's scabbard and attach it to my belt. Steve is also prepared for a fight, grabbing his shield as he exits the vehicle. I'm sure Natasha is also armed, though I can't see any weapons on her.

"You sure this is it?" I ask as I look past the fence at the old—and, in some cases, collapsing—buildings.

"The file came from these coordinates," Natasha replies, though she doesn't sound particularly convinced.

Steve looks up at a sign hanging on the fence, identifying the area as Camp Leigh. "So did I." I'm a little surprised by the statement. What are the odds that the file came from the same place where Captain America was trained?

But I don't have time to worry about that now. Stepping towards the fence, I unsheathe Vindex and use it to cut through the fence. Steve peels the two fence pieces apart from each other, creating a gap large enough for us to walk through. I return the sword to its place at my hip as we walk around, searching for any sign of life amongst the dilapidated structures.

Unkept grass and tangles of weeds have taken over the ground. Lichens and peeling paint flake from the sides of buildings. Dust and cobwebs cling to windows, almost invisible against the clouded glass. This place might have been a grand sight, maybe even beautiful, a long time ago, but it is now just a ghost of what it used to be.

"This camp is where I was trained," Steve says, though he sounds like he's just thinking out loud.

"Has it changed much?" I ask.

"A little."

Natasha stands on a raised platform, phone held over her head as she searches for any indication of where the signal came from. "This is a dead end," she says. "Zero heat signatures, zero waves, not even radio. Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off."

"So, we came all this way for nothing?" I clarify. "We're back to square one?"

As I speak, Steve looks around. The sun has cleared the horizon, leaving us with only the last traces of light to see by, but that faint light is enough for him to notice something.

"What is it?" Natasha asks, seeing his expression.

Instead of immediately answering, he walks towards one of the buildings. "Army regulations forbid storing munitions within five hundred yards of the barracks," he explains as we get close to it. "This building is in the wrong place." There's a padlock on the door, but he easily breaks it with his shield.

Inside, we walk down an old set of stairs into a room that smells of dust and stale air. Natasha walks over to one of the columns supporting the ceiling and flips a switch. A few old lights that haven't burned out flicker on. In the new light, I can see a familiar symbol on the far wall.

Natasha seems to notice it at the same time. "This is S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Maybe where it started," Steve offers.

We walk through the room, passing desks and shelves that obviously haven't been touched in decades. When we come across a room with the door slightly ajar, we naturally go inside to investigate. There are several bookshelves that span almost the entire length of the room, though they're completely empty. On the wall across from the door are three portraits: one of an older man in a military uniform, one of a woman with dark hair, and one of a man that I immediately recognize—not only because he was in my high school history books, but because he looks so much like his son. "Tony's dad."