Nightmare (Avengers/Steve Rogers Fanfic)

Meeting the Team

I watched from above, flying around the city. I've been doing this for five years now, and the criminals still haven't learned. It's a shame, but it's what they deserve. They all deserve death. They deserve no mercy.

"Help!!! Please, any-!" I looked over to where the voice came from. It sounded like it was on Surrey Street.

I quickly glided down to a rooftop on the street. I stared down at the multiple alleys that occupied it. No street lights. No big businesses, so no cameras. Whoever it was that was doing this was doing this smartly.

I heard another scream that came abruptly from the alley next to a café. I flew to the café rooftop, squinting down into the alley. Using my Wendigo eyesight, I saw a man holding a knife to a woman's neck, rummaging through her purse. Using my speed, I rushed down, stopping behind him. I laughed softly, and the man tensed.

He whipped around, brandishing the knife, forgetting about the woman and the purse. I nodded to her, and she took off, grabbing the purse while doing so before the man could realize what happened.

He snarled at me. I'll call him...Lesley. That's a thing about me. I tend to name people when I don't know their names. I took in Lesley's appearance. Black hoodie, jeans, black converse, ski mask, and, of course, the knife. The knife was a switchblade. Ugh, lame. As he studied me, his eyes went wide.

"Mortem...," he said, backing away.

I smiled, baring my fangs, "Yes?"

Y'see, I'm a big thing around here. It took a year or so to convince the police I was trying to help, but it went all good. After a few more years, I gained a reputation of kicking some bad-guy butt. And I was pretty good at it too.

And this doofus looked like he was about to wet himself.

I decided on intimidation, and settled for my decent size knife with three big ridges on the blade. I always made sure this knife had dried flecks of blood on it, for a little extra lick of fear.

The look on Lesley's face was absolutely priceless!

Within ten minutes, he was hog-tied with a gag in his mouth. He also might've had a few cuts on him. Maybe.

I jogged down the block, where a pay phone was waiting. I quickly dialed 911 and waited for them to pick up. When someone did though, I recognized the voice immediately.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

"Oh hey Chrissy!"

"Mortem? Is that you?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh hey! Listen, make this quick okay?"

"Oh, I'm not calling to say hi."

"Oh okay. What is it then?"

"Surrey Street. Alley next to the café. Mugging. Take your time." I hung up.

I almost forgot my signature. Using my speed, I went back to the alley. I pulled out my claws and slashed the wall, twice, like an 'X', except with six diagonal lines instead of two. I then walked over to Lesley, who was now squirming. I sighed,

"It hurts more if you struggle."

He quickly went still.

I took out my simplest and sturdiest knife. A one-inch blade with no engravings, no marks. Boring, right?

I hated doing this, but I had to.

I quickly sliced the same symbol on his wrist, and flew away, just as sirens sounded in the distance.