Corrupted - The Tigris Series Book 1

Chapter Seven

July 21, 2012

"So uh, how long have you been on the field? You know, working, fighting?" Steve asked, breaking the long silence as we sat in the jet.

I turned my hard gaze to look at him, not entirely wanting to answer that question. I hated to even think about any of that, there was no reason to convey any of it to someone else.

After a few moments of my eerie silence, Steve shifted in his seat a bit, awkwardly. "Well, I fought in the second World War for a while, and uh, I went into the ocean up in the north with the cube to stop Hydra. I was frozen solid for almost 70 years. When I woke up, I was. . . shocked. I haven't even really been able to process it all."

I continued to stare at him, never faltering the cold gaze in my eyes. I had plenty of things that I wanted to say, though I chose to keep it to myself. I wasn't interested in having a conversation. I needed to be focused.

Steve looked down in his lap, disappointed that he did not manage to get a response from me. "And I clearly still have trouble talking to women," he added quietly, chuckling to himself.

I gazed at him for a little bit longer, taking in every detail of his face, his neatly combed and styled blonde hair, his voice, and the way he carried himself. For such a big, buff guy, he seemed to be so small. I thought back to all that I had read on his file that Fury had provided for me. He used to be much smaller in both size and height, before Dr. Abraham Erskine's Super Soldier serum experiment took place.

"You had it easy." the words slipped out, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

Steve lifted his head, his blonde hair shifting ever so slightly at the sudden movement. "What'd you say?" he asked, curiously.

He must not have heard me. "You had it easy." I repeated, a bit louder for him to hear.

He slightly nodded, glancing away from my gaze. "I read a few things about you. It. . . didn't exactly sound much like a picnic."

I frowned, finally looking away from him to stare out the front window of the jet. You are right, Steve Rogers. It was far from being a picnic.

I could feel Steve's sympathetic gaze on me; it practically burned the side of my face. Well, at least the small portion of my face that was visible through the hood.

"How long?" he asked again, softly.

I didn't want to answer, but at this point, it was the only thing that will get him to stop asking me questions. ". . .68 years." I rasped.

Steve looked taken aback at my answer. I could see him in the corner of my eye, processing what I had just told him. As I predicted, he did not ask me any further questions. I read a few things about you. Fury must have shown him one of my files. I doubt it had anything about my past, the only thing that was on the other files was who the others were, what they do, and what makes them so special to be a part of the "Avengers Protocol."

"How long until we arrive?" Steve asked the pilot.

"We're just five minutes out, Captain." he responded.

I turned to look back at Steve. He was now standing in front of where he was previously sitting, holding onto the support bars above us to keep himself steady as the jet slightly jolted around, fighting the wind. His brows were furrowed as he stared out the windshield to watch the clouds roll by. He seemed much more focused now. His suit looked almost identical to what it looked like in his files; red, white, and blue with a white star in the center of his chest. He had brown gloves and combat boots as well. His red and white shield rested in the seats next to him, as well as his blue helmet, which also seemed to double as a mask. This man was undoubtedly Captain America.