<div class="floatleft">(http://i1101.photobucket.com/albums/g427/Nykteus/34s2j3r.jpg)</div><hr/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Steve Rogers<br/><strong>Title:</strong>Captain America<br/><strong>Locale:</strong>Stark Tower, War Room - Elevator<br/><strong>Time:</strong>6:56 pm, Eastern Time<br/><strong>Tags:</strong>Natasha Romanoff<br/><hr/><br/>Steve Rogers had stood up to men twice his size even after a severe beating, leapt from planes into heavy gunfire, faced down weapons of immense destructive power without hesitation, but the thoughts of being the target of a woman's rage managed to quail the man. There was strange alchemy that dictated the ways of love, one he had never, and could never, hope to understand. Great men had left words to help him understand tactics, the flow of forces on the battlefield, the intricacies of men's minds, but no advice made women any less bewildering. What advice he had been given was offered in the best of intentions, but it made precious little difference, like a sparrow telling him that all he needed to fly was to flap his arms.<br/><br/>The meeting was over, and he was left, for a moment, to ponder his next course of action. He answered Natasha with a nod of his head, utterly ignorant of the meaning behind her knowing smile, but too polite to show it. Thor and Doctor Foster departed to their own little realm, and it was some comfort to know that even one so alien as the Aesir had human feelings. The slightest quavering of subtle muscles, the pheromones dancing in the air, all the little signs that told him more than he wanted to know, and, so, he about faced with clockwork precision, and marched off to the elevator.<br/><br/><strong>Jarvis, I'm borrowing one of Mister Stark's motorcycles. Anything that doesn't have more circuits than you. And I'll need my number three equipment set. My jacket and bag as well, please.</strong>It had been easy enough to get used to a disembodied butler, but there was still the slightly jarring realisation that a machine could be so alive. Technology's rapid advances were just something a man had to get used to, and, though he found much of it quite useless, he wasn't one to snub his nose at an advantage. There were times when he wondered how he managed to wake up one day and find himself in a comic book writer's daydreams. In the privacy of the elevator, he allowed himself a moment to breathe deeply, running a hand up through his golden hair, sighing.<br/><br/>There wasn't a trace of doubt to be seen when the elevator stopped and the doors hissed open, Steve was left behind and the Captain had work to do. He was still wearing his star spangled fatigues, sans helmet, but he'd learned that he could deflect any and all attention by simply mentioning the word 'cosplay'. Strange as it was, pretending to be someone one else pretending to be him, it saved a lot of hassle when he was out and about. All the same, he pulled his jacket on over the suit, made sure that his gear was securely stored in his bag before slinging it on his back, and found his steed.<br/><br/>The chrome gleamed like liquid silver in the light of day, curving gracefully like the muscles of a horse, and Steve smiled appreciatively. He'd never had the money to own anything faster than a bicycle, but he'd developed a taste for power and speed once they'd let him requisition vehicles. It was true that he'd destroyed almost every jeep, truck, motorcycle, car and plane he'd ever had a chance to drive, but he doubted that he might have the opportunity to get into a running gunfight with Nazis in the middle of New York City. His mood improved as he climbed onto the bike and felt the engine surge to life, the steady thrum of power helping to focus his thoughts.<br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 16pt;">Continued in Earth - All Other Locations (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=144303.0)</span></div>