Captain America: The Phoenix

1. South Central

Her face felt as if it would explode as she pulled herself up for what felt like the millionth time. She'd lost count of how many pull-ups she'd done—in fact she'd lost all ability to count at all as she collapsed down onto the ground, melting onto her knees. She let out an audible groan as her muscles ached, closing her eyes to catch her breath.

But she opened her eyes because it was good. She was only growing stronger. Bringing her sight from the grimy stone floor, grimacing as she realized that she was sitting on layers of dust and dirt, she looked around her at the small warehouse with punching bags from some boxing ring and bright blue mats from some gym that she had turned into her own personal training ground. All the stolen equipment was strewn throughout her training room, having been used every morning of the past couple of years.

She found that it was quiet, her breathing nearly echoing through the entire room. Then she brought herself to stand and lock up the warehouse so she could go home and get ready for work.

Leaving her apartment, walking down the cracked cement of the sidewalk, her eyes only focused on the next patch of ground that her foot would step on. If she looked up, all she would see was the absolute mess of a world around her. The city of Los Angeles had economic issues that only continued to grow worse. There were too many people and not nearly enough of everything that those people needed. She couldn't help but glance over at a man, dirtied and tired-looking, being aggressively kicked out by police, in front of the small business where he had been sleeping. People walked on by, unable to do anything as going against the police would only get you arrested.

Then there was a tap on her right shoulder. She turned, being met with an old woman with long, matted white hair and a dusted over face. She held a thin, frail hand out, begging with her eyes.

Quinn reached for her purse, the old leather peeling off of it, pulling out her wallet. There was a twenty in there and just a few five dollar bills left. She took one out and handed it to the woman.

"Hey!" A voice called out to them, causing the white-haired woman to drop the five dollar bill.

Quinn looked over to see a police officer wearing a motorcycle helmet, in the middle of placing a ticket on someone's windshield. He approached them quickly, swiping the five dollar bill from the ground.

"Is there an illegal exchange happening here, Miss?" He asked her, dramatic suspicion in his voice.

Quinn had to refrain herself from rolling her eyes. "No, officer."

The officer's disbelieving gaze switched between the young and the old lady.

"Don't hand out your money to these bums, Ma'am." The middle-aged, wrinkled-faced officer said, handing Quinn back her bill. "That's your money."

So maybe I should be the one deciding where to put it, ass-hat, she thought.

The officer then gave her a curt nod, sending one last glance of disgust to the old woman before turning to return to his work.

Quinn frowned and shook her head at the officer. Then she turned to the white-haired lady, handing her the bill anyway. The woman gave her a tight-lipped smile, small but sincere, before turning away and waddling off.

Work was awfully mundane as always, but she had dues to pay and she knew of many worse ways of paying them.

"Just fill out these pages for me and Dr. Chen will be with you in a moment," she handed a clipboard and a pen to the mother with her three small children. The mother looked stressed, hair sticking out in all directions and darkness encircling her droopy eyes.

The woman mumbled a thanks as she grabbed the clipboard and walked over to her seat. The young woman behind the front desk sighed and rested her chin in her palm as she awaited the next task. Her booth was small, a desk closing her in from all sides and papers stacked up all around her. The sound of the mother scolding her kids who were running around the waiting room, playing pretend—even having brought their plastic Thor hammers and Captain America shields—wafted into her work area.