Last Avenger

Chapter 1

2069

New York City and Atlantic City were known, at least in part for being tourist destinations. The difference is one is enshrined in lore, post- and pre-war and held to a mythological status securing a place in scripture, while the other, though once superficially captivating is unremarkably profane. Steve and Thor were on their way to the unremarkably profane, which appeared even more hollow in mid-October; the winds were getting colder, the ocean was irate, and the trees were preparing for slumber.

"Alright," Steve said, checking his AR-15 through muscle memory, riding shotgun in the decrepit Ford truck, both men rocked gently in their seats by the truck's rusted suspension, "let's remember, this is a marathon, not a sprint."

Thor looked at Steve. He noticed how Steve's hair and beard, both still full, had accumulated a few more grey hairs than yesterday, or maybe not. Thor thought it could just be his eye, either one.

"I know, Steve, you say it every time," Thor grumbled. "How far are we going?"

Steve slipped the map out from between his legs, the front pre-folded folded to Venice Park.

"Just to the bridge, then we ditch the truck and walk."

"All the way to the Borgata?" Thor groaned.

Steve gave Thor a look. "Yeah."

"Fuck," Thor loudly moaned tossing his head back against the headrest.

"Okay, two things," Steve said, turning his seat. "One, language; two, I think a god can handle a few miles' walk."

"Well, normally, I could just fly in and do some cool hero landing and obliterate bad guys with lightning." A wistful smile washed over Thor's face.

Steve could see the glory days playing like short films in the glaze of Thor's eyes.

"Now, I guess we're just lucky they let us do our own driving," Thor said, his tone blissful with a grating irony.

"Yeah, well, we don't do that anymore," Steve said then looked back to the map. "We gotta keep it tight. The freeway to the hotel is pretty open all the way in."

Thor clenched his jaw and tuned Steve out.

Thor stopped the truck just before the peak of the Absecon Boulevard Bridge. He lethargically killed the engine.

"Hang on," Steve said.

Thor, hand on the door handle paused and turned to him.

Steve pulled his pill bottle out of his jacket. He popped off the lid and sprinkled two tablets into his hands. Thor eyed the bottle as Steve tossed the pills back into his throat.

"How many are left?" Thor asked against his own will.

Steve rattled the bottle eyeing it over. "A couple days probably." He slid it into his jacket and cracked his neck. "Let's move."

The men hopped out of the truck and went around back to the bucket to collect their gear. Steve's movements of getting his vest and pack on, loading his weapon, and testing his sights were tight and eager. Thor's movements were bumbling as he fidgeted with how his jacket's shoulders fit, and checking the sights on his own rifle just enough for Steve to know he did it.

The sky was largely overcast in the late morning. It had been threatening to rain for the past few days, but all that happened was biting breezes, yet still the Earth felt moist. Summer had burned itself out and winter was quickly becoming top of mind. The structures still standing had developed moisture lines along their seems, similar to the few oxidized jetliner fuselages jutting out of the city's profile. As they walked, Thor scowled against the westward wind off the ocean nipping at his face. A growl escaped under his breath. Steve eyed him.