#americancapscicle

[echogalaeus]

Mourn Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character mourning your character’s death.

December 12, 2016.

They were supposed to win this fight. Steve was the immortal one and she basked in the glow of him, of his firm need to have this safe little country and his passion for all of the damn morals she grew up with, the ones her father made her repeat until her tongue felt too foreign and the roof of her mouth was too dry. He reminded her that there was still good to fight for.

They were meant to survive it. Bucky was so confident but he was too confident because he had everyone -- his best friend, his old partner, his wife, his Avengers -- the Civil War would end and they’d all go back to their lives. She picked the side of her family without so much as a blink of an eye and considered the opposing side enemies. In war, you could only think of your opponents as enemies, as evil, otherwise you can kiss a good night’s sleep goodbye until you’re six feet under the ground.

They were forced to make a choice, and Steve had made his. Bullet lodged in the side of his head, not even their best medics could revive him. He can’t die, though, it’s impossible. He’s Captain America. The doctors explained that it wasn’t just his head, that it infected him like a virus until every damn cell fighting would cease to exist-- until Steve would cease to exist.

Christmas is so soon, but she knows Bucky won’t want to put out the decorations or even leave his bedroom. She doesn’t know what to say because this is twice -- twice -- that he’s lost his best friend. Echo spends as much time as she can with Natasha, with Sharon-- Christ, with Kate and Bruce and Thor, but it isn’t enough.

They were supposed to win this fight.They were meant to survive it.

[agentsharoncarter13]

The Ships Are Left To Rust | Sharon & Steve

The night vision binoculars she peered through brightened the lights on the incoming cargo ship. Sharon’s eyes were slowly getting accustomed to the green hue as she analyzed the ship for movement, occasionally shifting her binoculars to thermal mode to count the number of men roaming the ship. Calculating the distance between the ship and the dock, Sharon estimated ten minutes until they docked. She set her binoculars aside, lightly rubbing her eyes as she scanned the area around the container she stood on. Her hope of the mission going flawlessly was destroyed by the fact that she was in a shipyard and in Florida, the two locations that were considered exciting and bad omens for missions. The fact that there was no concrete information on her mission also gave her a bad feeling in her gut. 

Ten girls were being brought in a container that was then going to be sold to a company investing in cloning. To frustrate Sharon even more, intel detailed that the girls were most likely mutants which meant that the buyer had another agenda. This also meant that Sharon would have to most likely face it off with the buyer and the seller while making sure that the trafficked girls were safe. 

Sharon heard the roar of a few engines approaching her location. With a swift reaction, Sharon picked up her binoculars and started running away from the hum, hopping from container to container. After a moment, Sharon jumped off a container and walked towards the location of the grounded Quinjet in stealth mode.The ramp was open, the light from the jet barely illuminating the ground. Sharon marched up the ramp and straight towards a table that her weapons laid on. A knife, a garrote, a compact automatic rifle, her usual sidearm and four magazines per firearm. 

“The cargo ship will dock in five minutes and the buyer arrived early. We should go now to try and find a vantage point.” Sharon was focused on equipping herself as she spoke to Captain America, whom she almost forgot was there. She was told to bring a lot of man power and simply requested him to tag along with her. She had never seen him use that shield in person, and Sharon wanted to see him in action after their coffee chat. She slid the knife into her boot and loaded her sidearm before putting it in its holster. The table was finally clear when she picked up her rifle and loaded it with a magazine. 

“We should assume that both sides brought a lot of men with them. Lets try not to make some huge mess out of this. Remember that we need at least one guy from both sides for interrogation. We need to find out who the are and what they are planning,” Sharon explained to him in a serious tone. She pulled her hair back and put it in a bun before marching out of the Quinjet. Sharon was focused on the mission at, and at the moment, that was all that mattered to her.

[agent-ac-coulson-blog]

Where Do I Begin? // Steve & Phil

Calming his breathing, Phil exited Lola and began walking down the street through the park. And for once, he noticed the faces he was walking besides. He watched the children interact with the parents, the lovers sashay hand-in-hand, and the countless others make their way from one place to another. And for the first time in a long time, Phil realized just how incredible life was. Each moment passed a person by, and they were rarely noticed or appreciated. But they continued nonetheless. He bowed his head and moved on, hoping he could find a way to blend in with the crowd and not continue his earlier thought process. It was interesting, but beyond his ability to fully develop and expound on the thought and form it into an idea and philosophy. It was beyond the mindset he needed at the moment. 

As he made his way down the path, Coulson looked up and over to the surrounding trees and shrubbery, wondering just what lives were being led behind false smiles and forced laughter. Did the people know how many times they were saved? Did that mother know just how fully she should appreciate that daughter? He swallowed hard and thought back to the most recent problem; the accidental slip that caused a rift in between him and one of his closest agents. Of course, thinking about Echo and Lin reminded him of all the other people he had lied to, all the other people he would have to apologize to. Tony, Banner, Thor, Steve. . . Clint and Natasha had been debriefed just after the situation in Dubai, but even then the reactions had been hard to face.

He moved from the main walk to a side path, wanting to escape from the concrete and move to actual dirt and gravel; at least there he could enjoy a more colorful environment that wouldn't stifle his guilt and thoughts so much. As he continued his stroll, Phil had to fight the urge to grab out his phone and call everyone; to explain his situation and beg for forgiveness over the phone. But that wasn't possible; he had been given strict instructions already. Who was he to test the luck once more? 

It wasn't until a set of footfalls sounded behind him that Phil realized he was in a deserted part of the park and unarmed. Keeping his hands in the suit pockets, he moved over to the side of the path and waited for the person to react; to either make a move on him or to pass him by. As the crunch of gravel grew even nearer, Phil turned his head and immediately closed his eyes. Of course; one more apology to make today. "Hello Captain Rogers." He said, a sad smile curving across his face as he turned to fully take in the man.