Since the Roger Family AU is anyone with the last name Roger, how do you feel about Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America, being part of it?
"So, like, why am I here again?"
The agent that was chaperoning him down the endless corridors of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division ("We are still workshopping it" was the answer said agent gave him when he pointed out the thing was, like, a mouth full) glanced back at him with a smile on his face, but didn't slow his stride.
"You, Mr. Rogers, is the closest living relative of a MIA soldier who was found not long ago. As the only Rogers in New York, it was decided that you would be the one informed." The agent, Coulson he believes his name was, stopped in front of giant metal door. "We would be thankful if you informed your remaining relatives about his recovery."
"Wow, wow, wow, hold on a minute, man. My family hasn't served in the military since, like, the second war... not after grandpa's nephew fell from the sky right into the ocean."
"Oh, really?" Coulson said, the metal door opening after the little panel on the side read his digitals –– wasn't that a little bit much for a family reunion??? Oh no, he was being abducted by the Men In Black wasn't he? Oh god oh no –– "Do you know anything more about him?"
Taking a deep breath (how he wished Scooby was here. He should have know this place was wack when they said that his buddy could not come with him) he pretended like he was not being led towards a probable super gulag so scientist could make experiments on his stomach, and smiled as genuinely he could.
Come on, dude, he thought to himself. If you can pretend to be a talent judge to a murder jester you can pretend that everything is cool to the Area 51 agent over there.
"Oh, noting much. He lived in Brooklyn; he had, like, the worst luck health wise: asthma, sinusitis, heart palpitations, the works. He did get, like, better though. Some sort of treatment funded by the military. Classified too." He glanced at Coulson, a nagging suspicion starting to take shape in his mind. "After he got his miracle resetting to fabric he , like, became a big thing on the war effort. First as a symbol of sorts, then later as an actual soldier. They called him Captain America, which, I have to say, pretty groovy name."
They stopped once again in front of another door. They seemed to be going deeper and deeper into the building. Yeah, this is no normal family reunion. "He had, like, everything: comics, commercials, toys, trading cards. I think my grandpa still has all the comics safely preserved and stuff."
He was also an Unbonded, he didn't say. Making him virtually impossible to track.
Unbounded were extremely rare in the Rogers clan. By age 5, most Rogers children had already bonded with their Doo. As it should be. The youngest recorded bonding was Elisa Rogers, who bonded with Bella Doo when she was 2. The oldest was Edgar Rogers, bonded with Ben Doo at age 11.
But Cousin Steve? Cousin Steve was 27 when he fell into the ocean. No lovable pooch to his name. No connection for the other Doos to track down. Nothing that would help them bring him back home.
When he fell, he fell alone.
He and Coulson got to an elevator –– where exactly were they going? The center of the earth??? –– where there was no markings on the buttons or visor telling him how many levels this place has or in which direction they were going. He only knew they were going down because his sense of gravity was still working fine, thank you very much.
"Oh, that's good. Less things to explain then," Coulson looked at him, a kind smile on his face. "You know, it was my idea to contact you. I told my superiors that he would want to find his remaining living relatives so we thought wise to... facilitate this reunion."
And gain his trust, was left unsaid. And he could bet actual money that no one inside this building was expecting him to read between the lines. Their loss.
His panic slowly abated the longer Coulson didn't pull a glock on him and dragged him down, kicking and screaming, to the basement. Coulson was surprisingly chill for a Man In Black all things considered. Relaxed even. It could all be a front, of course, but the man's vibes until now was more in lines with high school teacher than high level assassin.
They stayed there, side by side as the elevator went down, a cloud of tension hovering around them. He may not be going to have his stomach chemicals studied, but he still didn't like this place one bit. It feel too much like a cage for him to truly relax down here.
"... I also have all the comics. And all the trading cards too." Coulson said suddenly, breaking him from his thoughts, sounding immensely proud of himself.
"No way." He gave the agent all his attention. "Those are, like, even harder to find than the comics, man."
Coulson took his wallet out of his pocket, the special card #30 with its comic style illustration of Cap smiled at him from it place of honor on the sheer pocket where normally dads put pictures of their kids. "This one is my favorite. I had to eat my weight in cereal to get it, but it was so worth it."
"Dudeeeee, that's awesome."
The atmosphere between them was significantly lighter after that. They discussed the trading cards during their journey down, the man going on along dissection of the designs of each card that he apparently had memorized.
The elevator arrived at its destination not long after Coulson's scalding review of the card #147 had ended.
Agent Coulson walked ahead of him, stopping at the end of a hall window that gave to what looked like a med bay. "I believe you already deduced why you were brought here, correct?" he said, his hands folded in front of him, standing at attention in front of another metal door. His wallet (and the trading card #30) safely back in his suit jacket's inner pocket.
He nodded, looking thru the window. He placed his hand against the glass, almost like he wanted to get closer. The glass was warm under his fingers.
Laying there on the other side was a man. Blond, tall, and frozen all over.
He recognized him from the pictures, from his square jaw to the bridge of his nose. His skin was a pale blue, slowly gaining back its rosy color as the room he was in slowly warmed over. And under his closed eye lids, he just knew, there was a pair of the same brand of blue eyes from his Grandpa's side of the family.
"Hey there, Cousin Steve."
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