<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://i45.tinypic.com/34s2j3r.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Name:</strong> Steve Rogers<br/><strong>Title:</strong> Captain America<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Entering<br/><strong>Time:</strong> 6:41 PM EST<br/><strong>Tags:</strong> Thor - Stark - Foster</span></span><br/><hr/><br/>As if on cue, the stars and stripes walked into the room, and Rogers' face did not reflect comfort. He had been biding his time in his room, merely waiting, he remembered reading the paper, and busied his mind with how important it would be to pick that habit up again. The news had intimidated him, and the journalists were much less educated than they used to be. Stories never seemed to sum up to anything, and the television was one episode of flashing stress after another. He had tuned it out. But he couldn't tune out Jarvis, and Stark's voice over the intercom, especially when they spoke to him directly about Loki, and an emergency meeting in the war-room.<br/><br/>Unfortunately, his urgency was victim to his confusion.<br/><br/>In a rush, he had scattered himself all over the building in search of the armoury. He ran in a full sprint passed the elevator, nearly knocking his head against the ceiling more than once. In fast, urgent times, his mind brought him to the stairs, it was a less confined space, and he blazed through them like a gymnast might repel from his scaffolding. It felt like forever in an elevator, mostly just waiting for the doors to close. While Stark covered ground between New York and the middle of the country, as Thor made his grandiose entrance, Rogers was gearing up. Once he was in the armoury he felt at home, and he had located three versions of his shield without trouble. Some one must have been at work for him wile he was away. He didn't bother with guesses as to who it might have been. He just reached for the largest version with the brightest shade of red in it's stripes, and he strapped it onto his back.<br/><br/><em>"Where the devil are the other Avengers, anyway?"</em><br/><br/>On his way into the War room, he stopped only paces from Thor and Tony, as if he was their father. The shape of his creased eyes made it obvious that he had heard Thor's entire display from the hall. The Asgardian towered over him, a feeling that Steve wasn't particularly used to feeling. But he begin to speak, and his tone suggested not an ounce of intimidation.<strong>"Well. Not all of us can fly."</strong>He had directed the comment at both of them, first he looked at Thor, and then his head pivoted over to Stark.<strong>"Now warm up guys." </strong>Captain America slapped Thor on the back with a good chunk of his might to install courage in the man, 'the god?'. Rogers nodded at Thor.<strong>"We're all on the same team here."</strong>Rogers walked passed Tony to look up at the screen full of scientific graphology, and advanced physics theorems.<strong>"Guys like you and me have to let Stark do the thinking." </strong>he was speaking to Thor, turning his shoulders toward both of them.<strong> "And you should have waited until Banner and I both got here before you turned this on." </strong>Steve found himself directly underneath the projections now, his eyes narrow, his mind trying hard to wrap itself around the visuals in front of him.<br/><br/>He had noticed Jane in his search for understanding. His face changed from cold to warm quickly, a polite head nod, and a gentlemanly face scanned Jane's eyes, he was absorbed by them for the moments that he allowed his vision to stray from the mission. He was glad to have his mask off.<strong> "Evening, ma'am."</strong>Well, he had to say something. But, he wasn't concerned with this woman in the room at the moment, in fact, he didn't rightly remember if he had ever met her before. He needed to talk with his team.<br/><br/><strong>"Stark. What am I looking at here?"</strong>His voice was honest, and utterly lost. The entire screen might as well have been written in invisible ink, as if there was nothing on the wall at all. He only saw one shape distinctly in a number of pictures:<strong>"Are you building a submarine?"</strong>He had interpreted the designs incorrectly. It was a good thing that he wasn't far off.