A Complicated Business

[Centurion]

The ride was quiet. Despite the excitement of a new mission, neither Captain America nor Marcus Wright spoke a word. The silence was underlined by the quiet hum of the Quinjet's engines and intermittent clatters of buckles and loose gear bumping around during times of turbulence. Cap slid his finger over the blunted edge of his star-spangled shield rhythmically, creating a monotonous music with the other ambient noises throughout the vehicle. He glanced carefully at Marcus, studying him for a moment, before redirecting his attention to his composing.
The terminator was most certainly confident. Not in himself, not really, but in the mission. In him. Cap was used to responsibility. He'd been leading others into battle since 1941. However, the strange atmosphere of the Omniverse was undermining his nerves. The Avenger had traveled between dimensions, yes. However this... collection of worlds set him on edge. His thinking had been erratic. The training sessions he struggled through time and time again at the Tower had shown him that. The split second delays, the momentary hesitations. It made him question whether or not he could really lead another team of Avengers. Besides, this new team had been around barely a month and It was already depleted by two members, two others away on missions.
That left no-one but Captain America and Marcus Wright to handle things. A bleep sliced through the silent tension, snpping both heroes to attention. Cap and Macrus glanced at each other and the Captain stood. he walked over to the primary console and tapped the screen. The words "Flight Path Complete: Arrival Imminent" caused his heart to pound. For years, Captain America had been leading men into warzones, into the unknown. Now it was the Captain being baited into a misunderstood mystery to meet a stranger. Cap headed past Marcus and towards the bay doors.
"Go time, soldier."
That was all he could squeeze past the tightening of his throat. it was then, in the split second before Cap jumped from the Quinjet that he realized why he felt so... wrong. Despite the shield, the uniform, and the Avengers, This was no longer Captain America: The First Avenger leaping into battle. This was Steve Rogers, a scared little kid from Manhattan with no-one, dropping into a possible trap. He pushed that aside and gripped his shield tighter. This was no time for self-reflection. Right now he had a job to do, and by God he planned to do it. So he jumped.

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Finally, the long trudge through the murky waters and foggy swamps was over. Cap and Marcus approached the outskirts of a small town, the dim lights shining like the eyes of a great beast through the mist. Rogers slung his shield over his shoulder and slipped into his overcoat. His new and stealthier armor now hidden, he motioned for Marcus to follow before plunging into the mass of people. A surprising amount of smiling faces bombarded Cap, despite the seemingly shady overtones of the town. Citizens, hawking their wares and peddling their goods lined the path. Despite his wide shoulders, Cap moved gracefully through the crowd, smiling back and kindly refusing offers of fresh sugarcane, his training with S.H.I.E.L.D. snapping to the forefront of his mind. through all of this madness however, Rogers was looking for one thing only, a blue feathered hat.
His enhanced perception allowed him to observe every line in every person's face, almost memorizing their appearance. It also allowed him to take note of the cobalt quill that shone through the fog, highlighted by a lantern that hung loosely beside a sign emblazoned with a silver sword. He gently moved through the crows and approached a frail old man, soaked to the bone by the heavy mists.
"Evening, sir." Steve greeted. The man glanced up from beneath his cap quizzically. Cap slid a spare Avengers patch from a side pocket and displayed it discreetly. "I believe you wanted to talk?"