@cryogenicammunition
when steve was 14 and scrawny he had never really expected his life to go in this particle direction; a decade and a half on and he was the size of a house-end and working, regularly, as a bodyguard. it had started as club and bar gigs, standing on the door, then it had moved up to concerts, and then minor celebrities, and then some bigger celebrities who he was not at liberty to name, and then - well.
this.
he straightens out his jacket and make sure his tie is straight in the reflection of the window of the room he’s waiting in; he met the president (the god damn president!) and the first lady earlier that morning, but it wasn’t them he’d be working for. maybe, he had been told by his boss, if he worked hard and flew right, maybe jumped in front of a couple of bullets or something, he could work up to the president’s own personal security team, and whilst it wasn’t a nice though, steve just wasn’t at all that ambitious. he was just happy to have a job, let alone one with the room for promotion.
he knew what they wanted him for; at some point in time he’d be made head of the president’s children’s security team, when the current one retired, but, well - for now, he was just in charge of the president’s son’s personal security, a task he had been warned probably wasn’t going to be easy.
when the door creaked open he stood up straight, turning around to face the group that entered. he wasn’t sure if he should smile or remain stoic; he began to smile, but a disapproving look from his boss had him put on a straight face. he didn’t really need to be introduced to the president’s son, but it was probably just a formality. and anyway, mr. barnes didn’t know who he was.
“mr. barnes - steve rogers, i’m your new security detail. it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
