<div class="floatleft">(https://images.moviepilot.com/image/upload/c_fill,h_470,q_auto:good,w_620/eqjoksyw6iggik8re3ha.jpg)</div>Name: Steven "Steve" Rogers<br/>Nom de Guerre: Captain America<br/>Affiliations: Avengers, multiple others<br/>Time: Friday the 27th of October 2017, 7:10<br/>Location: UN Headquarters, NYC to Stark Tower entrance<br/>Tagging: Open<br/><hr/>There was something about running that made it easier to think. Maybe it was the repetition. Maybe it was the ability to focus. Maybe it was the familiarity.<br/><br/>Maybe it was sheer boredom.<br/><br/>Regardless of the reason, Steve Rogers had had plenty of time to think since he rolled out of bed at 0430 and started jogging the perimeter of Manhatten. Morning in Avenger—no,<em>Stark</em>Tower had felt awkward to say the least. After everything that had happened, he'd half expected to wake up in a SHIELD detention cell. It was one of the few times he felt truly thankful for his early morning habits. He hadn't run into anybody as he left the tower and, in his tee-shirt and running shorts, he could have been just another jogger.<br/><br/>There was a lot of work to do if the Avengers were ever going to truly be<em>The Avengers</em>again. Not the least of which was his relationship with Stark himself. It was important to put up a united front no matter what, but it was even more important for that front to actually<em>be</em>united. He knew his position—the weight his name alone carried. Fractured or no, the team would still look to him for leadership regardless of the circumstances. Especially the kids.<br/><br/>The<em>kids</em>!<br/><br/>How<em>young</em>were some of these people? Hawkeye—Hawk<em>ette</em>—didn't even look old enough to get into an R-rated movie! She'd probably been raised hearing stories about him from the Second World War. She would have been a teenager when Iron Man was busting up terrorist cells in south east asia. What was she going to think if he and Stark had another disagreement in front of the whole team?<br/><br/>Steve closed his eyes and shook his head. The UN headquarters was right in front of him, now. If he turned left, 42nd street would take him right to Park Avenue. Back to Stark Tower. The rest of the team was probably up by now. Probably wondering where he was, actually. If he was gone any longer, his problems could only get worse.<br/><br/>Twice around the island was probably enough, anyway.<br/><br/>Barely breathing heavy, Steve even managed a heady sigh as he turned left and started down the much narrower sidewalk. He did his best to avoid the other pedestrians, but they all scattered when they saw him coming anyway. It was a strange feeling, and he had to remind himself that he wasn't even in uniform. Those weren't looks of mistrust or disdain, just mild annoyance.<br/><br/>It was just going to have to be a fact of life, for now. Steve wasn't going to make any apologies for his decisions. Rights were rights, and he'd chosen to make a stand for what he believed in. And he'd do it again, if he had to. Even if it meant fighting each of his friends once more.<br/><br/>That wasn't a pleasant thought, but his resolve gave him comfort. If he'd started having second thoughts—if he'd reversed himself, then it might mean it was all for nothing. Or worse, it might mean he was starting to compromise his ethics. Neither was an option. Not for him.<br/><br/>Stark Tower was just as tall and gleaming as ever. It dominated the skyline and shone almost golden in the early morning sun as if to announce to the world that it was housing earth's mightiest defenders. Steve slowed himself to a stop at the edge of a crosswalk and took in the sight. Next to him, a young man made to step off the sidewalk, but Steve grabbed hold of his collar just as a car rolled by.<br/><br/>"Hey!" the man protested, spinning around and showing Steve a scowl and angry blue eyes. "What the—"<br/><br/>Steve raised a finger and pointed to the crossing sign. "The orange hand means 'Do not cross," he said sternly. "Jaywalking isn't just dangerous for<em>you,</em>it puts the lives of commuters in danger. You could cause an accident."<br/><br/>The young man's eyes flashed, and he ripped his shirt free. "What are you, a cop?" He brushed a few locks of blond hair out of his eyes and backed away, lifting his hands. "Screw that shit, man. Everybody does it."<br/><br/>Steve shook his head. The sign switched over to a walking figure, and a familiar beep sounded off. "Just because everyone else is doing it, doesn't make it right."<br/><br/>"Man, fuck off!" The young man swung his hands down and whirled around, grumbling to himself.<br/><br/>Steve sighed and took a step after him. "There's no need for swearing, son." This would be a good "mentor moment," as his old trainer would say, but he thought better of it when the kid let loose a stream of cusses over his shoulder. The kid clearly didn't have the patience or the will to change. He grimaced and turned back to the crosswalk just in time to see the walking figure vanish and be replaced by the orange hand again. A car started to roll through the intersection.<br/><br/>Steve set his jaw and leaned against the light post. He didn't think he was going to like today.