The Beginning of a Hero

Chapter Six: A True Test, Part Two!

Fear blasted through my body and my heart shot to my throat. My instincts screamed, Run away bitch! while the logical side of me backhanded my instincts while yelling back, Don't be a moron! Stall and sneak away! A third and wholly unwelcome voice chimed in, Knock him out. One good punch is all it will take. It took all my self-control and then some to keep all the panic on the inside.

Three different options, only two of them mine. Logic seemed like the right path to follow. Any fight or chase with Captain America himself was bound to not go well. A super-soldier versus some teenage girl? Teenage girl loses, no questions asked. Any route but stalling and watching for a way out would go wrong. Stalling would probably still go wrong.

"So why is he around, then, when he caused so many issues before?" I turned back around and kept walking.

Leaves crunched behind me. Rogers was definitely following. "Thor says we can trust him, and I'm inclined to trust Thor. Loki's story was that he was being controlled by outside forces."

Informative, to say the least... But Loki is a god of lies and trickery. Does that mean Rogers can't be trusted? Or is this just another part of the test?

My heart was hammering in my ears. "The more you know."

Just one swing, you can take him, the female voice said.

Thumpthump. Thumpthump.

"He seems like he might be a decent person under whatever the hell led him to try taking over New York."

I found a branch with my foot. The ground collided with my body before another thumpthump could finish. My head smacked the dirt just hard enough to make the trees wave about for reasons other than wind. Rogers was mere feet from me, the branch still by my foot.

"Shit, kid, you okay?" He started crouching down, hand outstretched.

I groaned and pushed myself to my knees. "Yeah, just whiffed it..." Now's your chance.

Fuck it, there might not be another chance. I lunged for the branch and swung it as hard as I could for the backs of his knees. It made contact, and Rogers pitched forward.

Run while you have the chance! my brain screamed. I planned to listen- until I heard Roger's head hit the ground with a crack. My eyes went wide.

He was unconscious on the floor. Terror made a resurgence in me. Was he dead? Concussed? Not dead but going to die?

I got to my feet and crept over to him. He could be faking. He might be laying a trap.

I nudged him with my foot. He didn't move. Bad.

I knelt next to him and listened for breathing. It was there, slow, steady, more regular than my current BPM. That was good.

But what if he has a concussion? It doesn't matter. Leave him there. No! Bad thoughts! I smack thee away with a wooden spoon. Or was that one of the other voices? I was losing track. Either way, I couldn't just leave him. It would be morally wrong and it would be on me if he got hurt further. "Teenage girl responsible for death of Captain America" was not a headline that needed to happen.

So, I sat down several feet away from him with my stuff. The sun steadily rose while he just laid there like a limp biscuit. Or a dead body. A dead body that breathes still.

He was lying there like an unconscious person. Which he was.

A groan, some twenty minutes later while I was staring at my hands, came from Rogers.

It lives!

Kill him now before you lose the chance entirely.

I gently smacked my head a few times with the palm of my hand, as if that would magically rearrange whatever traitorous nerves and neurons decided to allow that thought to happen. The thought still gently floated between my ears like a placid TV screensaver.