12A/N
Hi, Practically an Avenger (I gotta shorten that. How 'bout PA?). First, thanks so much for the reviews. I love reviews, so please keep them comming. I'm thrilled you found me from reading my buddies CC and robbie, two of the best writers on this site. I'm going to steal their thing by addressing your comments/questions here. I'll pay them royalties or something. Here goes.
- I definitely base my stuff on the classic Marvel Universe (I don't know what number, that stuff confuses me) - but I do tweek things. In my version, Crossbones kind of IS the Marvel version on Bane. I see him as 6'9", 400 pounds (think The Mountain from Game of Thrones). Likewise, my version of Cap is (oops, make that was) 6'5''. My thinking is this: I can't have Captain America walk into an NFL huddle and be one of the shortest guys on the field. Tom Brady is 6'4". Cap has to be taller than that.
- I tweek the healing power of the Super Soldier Serum. It is a notch below Wolverine. And Grant has a little more healing juice than his dad. So, yeah, he's very close to Wolverine level healing.
- Your observations on the truck hitting Crossbones cracked me up. You busted me, and I kind of cleaned it up in this chapter. Crossbones missing the shot? Well, he actually hit Grant in the shoulder. And it was nighttime, storming, and he had a broken arm. In my defense, I'd like to point out that comic books, movies and TV shows have bad guys miss easy shots all the time, along with like a million other lapses in logic like heroes surviving impossible death traps, vehicles defying the laws of physics, and so forth. Just saying.
- Quartermain. Don't worry; I won't do him wrong. And don't give up on Marcus, he's on a journey.
- Grant and Allison. I love these two, I hope you will as well. You're right; they aren't ready for sex...yet. But they love one another, and they are committed. Being on the run from an assassin makes it hard to find the right time. On a similar note, I want Grant to have a chance to BECOME a hero, not have it thrusted on him. He'll get there, I'm building to it.
- Viper. She is the worst. And yet I kind of love her. She has no powers, yet in a world of superpowered titans, she's the deadliest woman in the world. Respect.
Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Chapter 10
Take on Me
Ohio
Allison awoke with a start, her breath catching in her throat. She looked about, her eyes bleary from sleep and the bright sunlight. Her sight adjusted, and she took in the interior of the truck cab. For a moment of panic, she thought she was back in the SUV, a prisoner again, but she quickly saw she was in Grant's truck. She looked to her side. Grant wasn't there. She peered out to the wooded country lane, her eyes scanning, as her panic returned.
"Grant? Grant!"
She opened the door and half tumbled out. Swiveling her head, she called his name again, feeling fear rise in her throat. He wasn't there. Then she heard a voice answer.
"I'll be right down."
She looked up. High in the branches of a towering maple tree, she saw Grant. He grabbed a branch and swung out, letting go. Dropping nearly fifty feet to the ground, he landed lightly at her side.
"I didn't mean to scare you," he said, seeing the look in her eyes. "You were sleeping so soundly, I decided not to wake you."
"Sorry I freaked," she said. "I shouldn't be such a baby."
He put his hands on her shoulders, gently. "Hey, after what you've been thorough, you have every right to freak."
As Grant hugged her, Allison could feel the gentleness of his moves, the special attention he paid to not overwhelm her with his new strength. She smiled, pressing her face into his chest. Then she looked up at him.
"Just how tall have you gotten?"
"About six four. I'm still getting used to it," he said, sheepishly. "I look in a mirror, and I think, who's that guy? Then I think, oh, yeah, it's me. Kind of weird."
"Hey, it's still you, I only have to look in your eyes to see that. Besides, I'm not complaining," she said, putting her hand on his bicep, and flashing a cheeky smile. "But what were you doing up there? I mean, were you testing your amazing tree climbing powers?"
"Very funny. I was trying to get a signal," Grant said, taking the phone from his pocket. "I couldn't get one, but I saw a town not far away. Once we get back on the road, I'll be able to get GPS and get us on our way."
She stared at him, puzzled. "I thought you told Bones that phone didn't have GPS?"
"I lied," Grant said, grinning. "You got a problem with that?"
"No." Allison stretched up on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. "I guess your mom's spy skills rubbed off on you. So, where are we headed today?"
"First, we get some breakfast. I don't suppose you have any money on you?"
"Actually, I do," she answered, pulling a twenty and a ten from her pocket. "Bones took my purse, but he didn't bother taking my spare change. It's not much, I know, but…"
"Every little bit helps. I have about three hundred dollars on me. We'll need to buy you some fresh clothes."
Allison lifted her arm and sniffed her armpit, making her nose wrinkle. "And deodorant. Some toothpaste wouldn't hurt, either. I hate you seeing me like this, all yucky and gross," she said, running her fingers through her long auburn hair, which was tangled and matted.
Grant tilted her face up to his, and pecked a kiss to her lips. "You're beautiful. But...toothpaste couldn't hurt."
She laughed, rapping her fist against his chest. "You jerk. Okay, we eat, and get some supplies. What then?"
"We hit the road, and go find help."
"I thought you weren't down with going to the police?"
"I'm not. We need someone that has experience with super baddies. I think I know who can help. I'll tell you about it on the way into town."
Grant started toward the truck, but Allison grabbed his arm.
"I need to call my folks." She saw the uncertain look on Grant's face. "I have to let them know I'm alright. After everything that happened to you and your mom, Mister Putnam being murdered, me disappearing, they must be worried out of their minds."
"Sweetie, they'll want you to come home, or go to the police. That's too dangerous right now. Bones is still out there, looking for us. He probably has your folks phone bugged."
Allison's face went pale. "Do you think they're in danger? Oh God, Grant, do you think he'll go after them?"
"No, I don't think so. Look, there are limits to what he can do. He's on our trail, he wouldn't backtrack now." Grant passed his phone to Allison. "When we get to town and pick up a signal, you can text your mom, tell her you're with me, that you're safe. That'll give them some relief. Once we get to safety, you can call them."
She nodded. "Okay, you're right. Anyway, we need to get a move on. How far away is this town?"
"About ten minutes. Why?"
Allison scrunched her face. "It's called nature. I don't know how it is with you big, tough superheroes, but this girl needs to pee."
Grant looked at her, quizzically, then waved his hand out, indicating the trees and fields. "I thought you were a country girl."
Allison frowned. "Okay, I have to do the other thing, too. There, are you happy? You just made your girlfriend admit she has to poop. And I'm not doing that behind a tree with you standing nearby, you got me?"
Grant laughed. "Okay, lets go. I'll tell you about my plans, see what you think."
As they walked to the truck, Grant stopped to inspect the front end. He patted the roll bar fitted around the grill. The thick steel bars were dented, but intact.
"Good thing Kenny had it fixed up for off-roading. Even a tough old model like this one would have been ruined after you smashed into Crossbones. He's as big as a buffalo. Strong as one, too."
He stopped, and turned to look at Allison. "I haven't thanked you yet, have I? You saved us when you rammed him, you know."
"I know it sounds horrible, but I wish I'd killed him."
"He deserved it. But you hurt him pretty bad. Between that, the storm, and the darkness, he wasn't able to pick us off. Assassins like him don't usually miss. We got lucky."
Allison put her hand on his shoulder. "We weren't that lucky. He hit you. Are you sure you're alright?"
Grant smiled, and moved his arm in circles. "All better. It's pretty amazing. You know, I read up on my dad. I don't know everything about his powers, but I don't think he healed as fast as this. Maybe the serum changed when he passed it on to me, mutated or something. All I know is it sure comes in handy."
With that, they jumped into the truck, and seconds later were rambling down the country lane, heading to the nearby town.
Manhattan, New York
Sharon and Clint stepped off the gleaming elevator, and headed down the hall. Granite sconces lined the walls every five feet, holding sprays of lilacs and wildflowers. The floors were tiled with soapstone and Italian marble, and soft-glowing light spilled down from crystal fixtures mounted on the frescoed ceiling. Sharon looked around her as they walked.
"I've been in a lot of ritzy hallways in a lot of ritzy apartment buildings," she said. "This one is right up there with the best of them."
"Yeah. She has money, but don't let that fool you. She's no pampered princess, believe me. She's plenty tough."
Sharon said nothing. They stopped at the door, the only one on the entire floor. As Clint knocked, he turned to Sharon.
"Trust me, coming here was the right move."
Sharon kept quiet. A second later, the door opened. Standing before them was a tall woman, young, with long shiny brown hair. Her features were sharp, and might have been harsh if not for the inner warmth that emanated from her deep brown eyes. Those eyes lit up as she saw Clint, and a smile bloomed on her rose-colored lips. She threw her arms around his neck.
"Clint! It's been too long."
"Yeah, I've been kind of busy," he replied. He pulled back, holding the woman's shoulders as he looked her over. "You're looking great, kid."
"Hmm. I haven't been a kid for a few years, but thanks. You're looking good, too," she said, scrubbing her hand over his beard. "Scruffy, but good."
"I aim to please. I want you to meet an old friend of mine," Clint said, motioning to Sharon. "This is Sharon Carter. Sharon, this is Kate Bishop."
The woman extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Sharon."
"You, too," Sharon said, shaking hands. "Actually, we met a while back."
"Really? I don't remember."
"I'm not surprised. You were eight at the time."
Kate smiled. "Sounds like there's a story there. Come on, let's take this inside."
Sharon followed the woman into the apartment, with Clint coming in behind them, but he nearly knocked them both aside as he barreled forward.
"Lucky!"
A shaggy haired dog bounded down the hallway, barking happily. Clint knelt and spread his arms out, as the dog jumped to greet him. The dog was half golden retriever, half mutt, and all joy. Clint hugged him, as the dog smacked wet kisses to his cheek.
"Who's a good boy?" he asked, rubbing the dog's ears. "Who's a good boy?"
"Be easy with the old fella," Kate said.
Sharon cocked an eyebrow. "Which one?"
"In this case, let's go with the dog," Kate said, laughing. "He's been having trouble with his hips."
Clint looked up, still rubbing the dog's ears. "What are you talking about? He's in the prime of life! Just like me."
Kate rolled her eyes. "Says the archer with the gray hair."
"It's silver," he shot back, nuzzling the dog. "Don't you listen to her, boy. We're just getting started, aren't we?"
The dog answered by barking happily, and thumping his tail on the hardwood floor. Kate looked at Sharon.
"This reunion might take awhile. Would you like some coffee?"
"Yes, thank you."
Sharon followed Kate down the hallway. The apartment was spacious, and tastefully decorated, but not ostentatious. Kate's clothing was likewise; stylish, but not excessive. Sharon noted the fourth finger of her left hand, a small indent where a ring once sat. They stepped into the well appointed kitchen, bathed in sunlight from the large windows lining the walls. There was a glassed in patio balcony, which overlooked a spectacular view of the Hudson river.
"How do you take it?" Kate asked.
"Cream. No sugar. This is quite a place you have."
"Thank you. I don't spend a lot of time here, but I enjoy it when I do."
As Kate busied herself brewing the coffee, Sharon walked over to the glass doors, and looked out to the west, but she couldn't see the spot she was looking for. She opened the doors and walked out onto the patio, and there it was, across the broad boulevard, thirty stories below: Avengers Park. Ten acres of green grass, towering trees, and graceful flower beds. Brick lined paths meandered to the river's edge, and a small playground sat on the far right. In the center of the park was a sparkling fountain, with geysers of water spraying in high, graceful arcs, falling into pools at the basin. This marked the spot where Avengers Mansion once stood. In a place of honor in front of the fountain, stood a massive statue. The figure of a man, tall and strong, with an expression that was proud...and lonely. Crowds of people milled around it, taking pictures, children posing with arms on hips, staring heroically forward. Sunlight struck the polished marble statue, reflecting in a brilliant starburst. Sharon stared at it, feeling her eyes go damp, as memory flooded her heart...
"That's one of Alicia Masters pieces. Beautiful, isn't it?"
Kate. Standing behind her, coffee in hand. Sharon quickly wiped a hand across her eyes. Crying twice in one day was more than enough. Composed, she turned around.
"Yes, it's beautiful."
"Here you go, cream, no sugar," she said, handing her a cup. Sharon took the coffee. Kate stood beside her, staring out at the park, her eyes alighting on the statue.
"I met him once," she said, sipping her coffee. "I was just a kid, obviously. Totally in over my head. But he didn't talk down to me, or dismiss me. He made me feel like anything was possible. That was his real super power; inspiring hope. I've met a lot of heroes since then, been a member of the Avengers, worked with the X-men, but I've never met anyone quite like Cap."
"No...there was never anyone quite like him."
Kate stared at her. "Did you know him?"
"Yeah, she knew him."
They turned and saw Clint, sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in hand. Lucky was curled up at his feet, contentedly chomping on a rawhide chew toy. Clint pushed out a chair with his foot, nodding at Kate. They walked back into the kitchen, and sat. Kate looked at Sharon.
"When Clint called, he said he had a favor to ask...but I get the feeling the favor isn't for him, is it?"
"No."
"Well, you're a friend of Clint's, that's good enough for me. What can I do?"
"First, I should finish that story I hinted at," Sharon said. She sipped her coffee, then set it down, looking into Kate's eyes. "I told you we'd met before. It was in your father's office."
A small shadow dimmed Kate's features. "Oh. My father."
"I was having a meeting with him, when you and your mother stopped in. You wanted him to come to lunch with you. He told you he couldn't get away. You were very sad, and asked me if I could let your daddy go with you. I said I was sorry, but I couldn't. I gave you a piece of candy from his desk, and told you you were a very sweet girl."
Kate nodded. "I remember. After we left the office, I told my mom you were the prettiest lady I ever saw. She wasn't too happy with that. She had to put up with a lot from my father...but somehow, I don't think you were another one of his dalliancies. You're a little too smart, for one thing."
"Thank you. And no, I wasn't a dalliance."
"Publishing? I know most of the players, but I don't know you."
"No, not publishing. But then, that wasn't your father's only business, was it? I was there that day to talk about the weapons he was warehousing for Hydra. Your father was becoming a problem, and I explained to him it was my job to make problems disappear. He wisely decided to get out of the Hydra business."
Kate sat quietly for a moment. "I see. He never really went straight, you know."
"I know, but that's where my concern with his affairs ended. His involvement with the Kingpin wasn't a matter for SHIELD."
"I guess not. Look, Sharon, I'm not my father, and I'm long past the point of apologizing for the things he did."
"That's good. I'm not here to lay blame at your feet—you're a friend of Clint's, and that's good enough for me. I just wanted to get everything out in the open. I know your secrets...and now I'll tell you mine."
Sharon brought up a photo on her cell phone, and handed it to Kate. "This is my son, Grant."
"He's a cutie."
"Naturally, I think so. He's on the run, and he's being pursued by dangerous people. I need help finding him."
Kate looked at the picture for a moment, and then handed back the phone. "Why come to me? Last I checked, SHIELD is pretty good at tracking people down."
"I left the Division years ago. And I don't trust them right now. I think the people that are after Grant have moles within SHIELD."
Kate's brow furrowed. "That's concerning. I always thought Quartermain ran a tight ship. The Avengers have liaisons with SHIELD, maybe we should sound the alarm."
"No," Sharon said. "A frontal assault is the wrong approach. The mole would pull in, disappear in the bureaucracy. SHIELD has many power centers, and lots of shadowy divisions, people with their own agendas. It's not easy for moles to infiltrate, but once they get in, it can be difficult to find them. I have some people checking into it, quietly."
"Alright, I suppose you know best about catching spies. But these people that are after your son, who are they? What do they want?"
"The only thing I know for sure is they're well funded, and dangerous. Bad actors. As to why they're after Grant...it's because of who his father was. You met him once. He inspired you to feel that anything was possible."
Kate stared at Sharon, her mouth hanging open. She turned and looked out to the patio, in the direction of the park. She turned back around, and looked at Sharon.
"Okay. Tell me more about these bad actors. You must have some ideas."
"Two weeks ago, a strike team came to my home, and attempted to take Grant. We fought them off, but Grant ran away that night. He thought he was endangering me. I...kept the truth from him about who his father was, he only learned about it that night. I suppose that was part of the reason he left. The strike team was trained by Taskmaster, and were employed by AIM."
Kate nodded. "Bad actors, alright."
"AIM is a red herring, they're strictly research. There's someone behind them. I don't know who. Yet. I'll find them, but first, I have to find Grant. He's in danger."
"I agree. Maybe the Avengers should be in on this."
Sharon shook her head. "Thor and Iron Man are great when you need to smash an alien god, or stop a horde of monsters. They're not so good at finding eighteen year old kids who've dropped off the grid. And if possible, I'd like to keep Grant's heritage secret. The Avengers attract media attention like the Beatles and Beyonce had a baby. Throw Captain America's son into the mix, and the spotlight would be blinding."
The room grew quiet. Kate sipped her coffee, then set it down. The silence held a moment longer.
"Well, Katie," Clint said. "What do you think?"
Kate smiled. "I think we're about to get very busy. I agree with Sharon. Thor and Iron Man aren't what we need. It takes a teenager to find a teenager. Luckily, I know a few who are tailor-made for the job."
Kate took out her cellphone, and placed a call.
Ohio
The trip into town took Grant and Allison less than ten minutes. They found a small department store on the outskirts of town, and pulled in. After purchasing clothing and toiletries, they used the store's restroom to wash up and change, an act that greatly improved both of their dispositions. They slipped out of the store, under the suspicious stare of the nosy woman manning the cash register. Leaving the truck in the parking lot, they walked the short distance into the village of Somerset. The sunshine and fresh air was quickly drying Allison's damp hair. She linked her arm around Grant's and sighed.
"Clean hair, fresh undies, and a handsome boy. I'm very happy."
"I'm glad."
"Pretty town," she said, looking at the shops as they walked the cobblestone sidewalk. There was a statue in the town square, and Allison stopped to read.
"General Philip Sheridan."
"He was a civil war general," Grant said. Allison threw a smirk at him.
"Yes, the horse, the sword, and old-timey army outfit tipped me off."
"You don't have to be snotty," he teased.
"Sorry, it's the hunger. Feed me, and I'll behave."
They headed to the small diner on the corner of the square. As they opened the door, there was a clattering sound behind them, a loud clop-clopping, followed by the neighing of horses. Allison and Grant turned, seeing a horse drawn carriage, with two bearded men and a boy. The back of their wagon was filled with crates.
"Oh, look," Allison whispered. "Amish farmers. Isn't that awesome?"
"Yes," Grant said, urging her into the restaurant. "But we shouldn't stare."
They stepped inside. There were a few other diners in the restaurant, including a couple of teenage girls, who giggled softly as they looked at Grant, whispering to one another. Allison frowned, and tightened her grip on Grant's arm. There was a sign that read "Seat Yourself", so they found a spot by the window—Allison putting as much distance between them and the girls as possible. They opened the menus and read. A moment later, a middle aged waitress came to the table, looking a little frumpy, but with a friendly smile.
"Welcome to the Little Phil," she said, holding her order pad. "Ready to order?"
"I'll take the number one," Grant said. "Can I have a double stack of pancakes with that?"
The waitress's eyes widened. "That's a whole lotta pancakes, but you want 'em, you got 'em. What about you, hon?"
"I'll have the same, only one stack."
The woman chuckled, and went off to place the order. The girls at the far table continued to sneak glances at Grant, making whispered laughter behind their raised menus. Allison looked at Grant, her lips pursed angrily.
"You have fans, apparently. I ought to go over there and tell them to keep their eyes to themselves."
"Salty," Grant said, chuckling.
"Well it's just so gross."
"Now you know I felt any time we went out back home. Every guy in town wanted to go out with you."
"Oh, that is so not true."
"Allison! You're the hottest girl in school. You're also the smartest, the best athlete, you volunteer at the animal shelter...you know, if you weren't so nice, it would be kind of sickening how awesome you are."
She grinned at him. "Says Captain America's son."
"Hey," he said, putting her hand on hers, his expression serious. "Not so loud. We can't talk about that in public."
"Sorry," Allison said, scrunching her face apologetically.
"It's okay, we just need to be careful. Why don't you go ahead and text your mom."
Allison took out the cell phone. "Wow. You've got like a million messages from your mom."
"Yeah, she keeps texting, telling me to call. I told her I would, when I could. You have to do the same with your folks."
Allison started typing her message. "This is hard," she said. "I don't know what to say. God, they must be so worried."
"Take your time," Grant said, "you'll find the right words."
As she worked on the text, Grant watched the Amish men outside, unloading their crates of produce. A group of boys were walking down the sidewalk, straight towards them. Two of them were big guys, wearing letterman jackets. Football players. They were laughing loudly, taking up as much of the sidewalk as their wide bodies could fill. The biggest guy bumped one of the farmers, knocking him down. His crate smashed on the sidewalk, spilling out wheels of cheese and fresh vegetables.
"Watch where you're going," the boy said, laughing as he stepped on one of the wheels of cheese, squashing it. Grant tensed to get up, but the waitress came, delivering their food. She hurried to the door, and poked her head out.
"Jimmy Martin! You leave those folks alone! I'll tell your mama about this if you don't get!"
The big football player laughed, and he and the others walked away. The Amish farmers quietly gathered up their produce, and the waitress came over to the table.
"That boy's a disgrace, but don't let it ruin your breakfast, folks," she said, leaving the bill. "Enjoy!"
Grant and Allison dug into their meals, all other matters forgotten as they filled their empty bellies. Allison was amazed at the quantity of food Grant devoured, which he washed down with three refills of coffee. She was still working on her plate as Grant finished his enormous meal. He took his fork and pointed it at one of her sausage links.
"You going to eat that?"
"You're still hungry?" she marveled. "Help yourself, I'm full."
Grant popped the link into his mouth, chomped twice, and swallowed. "I need lots of calories these days. How's the message coming?"
"I finally came up with something that doesn't sound totally insane," she said. "Hopefully it will keep them from worrying until I can call them."
Wiping her hands on her napkin, Allison took the phone and was about to press send, when Grant reached out, stopping her.
"Wait, you can't send that," he said. "Bones tracked me last night by my phone signal. If we use it again, he might be able to find us."
"Even if I just text?"
"I don't know. We can't take the chance. Look, I know how anxious you are to reach your folks. We'll buy another phone, we've got enough money for that, but we can't use this one anymore," he said, taking the back off the phone, and popping out the battery.
"Okay," Allison said, glumly. "But we have to do it soon. This is really bothering me, Grant. I have to let mom and dad know I'm alright. ."
"I understand. Believe me, I felt the same about my mom."
Grant stood up and pulled two twenties from his wallet, leaving a bigger tip than he probably should have. He looked at Allison, his eyes sympathetic. "Let's go buy that phone. Then we have to hit the road. I want to be in DC this afternoon, and it's a six hour drive."
"Okay," Allison said. "I just need the bathroom."
Allison hurried off, glaring at the girls as she passed. They were still eyeing Grant, and he began to feel self conscious. He turned away and looked out the window. That's when he saw that the boys had returned. The big one, with the letterman jacket and bad Harry Styles haircut, was standing in front of the oldest Amish man. He had a mocking smile, the same one that every bully has. Grant's jaw tightened; he hated bullies. The Amish man looked away from the bully, who towered over him, but the bully stepped closer. Grant wanted to go out there, but he knew the smart thing was not to get involved. These were just some dumb kids acting up, it would blow over. Then the bully reached out, grabbing the Amish man's beard. All his little buddies laughed, egging him on. Grant walked out the door, hearing the kid's smarmy, bully voice.
"Wow, this is a kickass beard. Isn't this a great beard, guys?"
The other kids all chimed in, their agreements interspersed with little titters of laughter. The bully went on.
"So tell me, Eli, how long does it take to grow a beard like this, huh? I'm thinking of growing one, and—"
Grant cleared his throat. "Why don't you stop bothering this man?"
The kid let go of the beard, and turned. He had a look of pretend confusion on his bully face as he stared at Grant.
"What did you say?"
Grant sighed. "This man isn't bothering anyone, he's just trying to work. Picking on someone who won't fight back isn't a good look."
The guy walked up to Grant. He stood a good inch taller, and looked to have thirty pounds on him.
"What about you? Do you fight back?"
"When I have to. I don't want trouble, I just want you to leave this man alone."
The bully puffed out his already barrel chest. "These people clog up traffic, their horses take dumps all over main street, they don't fight in our wars. My old man died fighting for this country."
"So did mine. You don't see me acting like an asshole about it."
The bully glared, red faced. One of his friends walked up, throwing his arm around the big kids shoulder as he stared at Grant. "Jimmy's all state defensive end, and all division wrestling champ."
Grant smiled. "Does that mean his toughness transfers to you?"
"No," the bully said, elbowing his friend aside. "It means I'm going to kick your ass."
Everything seemed to switch to slow motion to Grant. He saw the bully's eye's dilate, and his nostrils flare; he watched as he jerked his beefy hands up in what he no doubt thought was a fast move. It seemed glacial to Grant. The guy jammed his hands to Grant's chest and attempted to shove, putting all his considerable weight and strength behind the act. Grant braced himself, flexing forward slightly. The bully flew backwards, crashing into his friends, where they fell to the sidewalk in a heap. With dazed disbelief in their eyes, they looked up at Grant.
"I don't want trouble," Grant said. "Why don't you guys just go."
The disbelief left the bully's eyes, replaced by anger. He'd just been embarrassed in front of his friends. He jumped to his feet and rushed at Grant. Grant stepped forward and extended his left arm, palm out. The bully collided with his outstretched hand, and jarred to a stop as if he'd run into an iron post. He stumbled back, gasping for breath. One of his friends shouted out.
"Come on, Jimmy...kick his ass!"
Jimmy gathered himself, uncertainty showing in his movements. He looked at Grant, fear showing in his eyes as he caught his breath. Grant met him with a hard look.
"Don't do it. Just go home."
Jimmy lunged, throwing a right hook. Grant smiled, remembering how Crossbones told him he telegraphed his punches; Jimmy did that just now, dropping his shoulder, cocking his fist. Grant waited, and then whipped his right hand out, grabbing Jimmy's wrist, intercepting his punch. Jimmy cried out in pain, and dropped to one knee. Grant held his wrist in a grip of iron, and spoke.
"I'd tried asking nice. Now I'm telling you. Go home."
To drive home his point, Grant spun the kid around, and kicked him in the backside, putting more power into the kick than he intended. Jimmy flew through the air, two hundred and seventy pounds of muscle tumbling a dozen feet down the sidewalk like he'd been shot out of a catapult. The rest of his gang stared at Grant, dumbfounded, and then they ran, gathering Jimmy up off the sidewalk. They took off without a backward look. Grant saw the Amish farmers staring at him, their expressions showing fear. The restaurant door opened behind him, and he turned to see Allison. She came up beside him, whispering in his ear.
"Grant, we'd better go. People are watching."
Pressed up against the restaurant window were the two girls, phones in hand, filming the scene. Grant turned his face away, and took Allison's hand. They hurried down the sidewalk, as fast as they could without running, and jumped into the truck. Seconds later, they were driving down the county highway, leaving the small town in the rearview mirror.
After driving in silence for several minutes, Grant spoke.
"That was stupid of me. I shouldn't have gotten involved."
"I'm proud of you," she said, laying her hand on his arm. "Those creeps deserved what they got."
"I should have let it be. We're on the run from a killer, and I exposed us. Those guys were just being jerks, they weren't really going to hurt those people."
"And that makes it okay? You did the right thing. Captain America wouldn't turn his back on people who needed help, and neither would you. You're like him, Grant. It's not just your power...it's your heart."
Grant looked at her. "Thanks. I love you, you know that?"
She smiled. "I love you, too."
Grant returned her smile, and drove on. A few minutes later, he pulled onto a state highway. Allison turned to him with a questioning look
"Is this the right way? Don't we need GPS?"
"We're going old school. Kenny has maps in the glove compartment, you'll have to be the navigator. Meanwhile, we're heading east, so that's in the right direction."
"We still need to get a cell phone I have to message my folks."
"I know. We'll get a phone when we stop for gas...but right now, we need to make tracks. We have to make DC as soon as we can. I got lucky against Bones last night, I can't count on that a second time. We need help."
