The city lights gleamed on the horizon, a promise of civilization—or at least, the chaos that came with it. New York. It had always been a place of beginnings and endings for me, but now it felt like the only place left to go. My legs burned from the run, my mind was a mess of disjointed thoughts, and the weight of every decision hung heavy on my shoulders.
I needed to get to the city. But how?
There was no way I was walking through miles of urban sprawl with Hydra's scent still on me. A direct route would get me spotted too quickly. No, I needed to be smarter. More discreet. So, when I hit the outskirts of the city and saw a group of low-level gang members hanging out in the alley by a corner store, I knew what I had to do.
It wasn't about pride. It wasn't even about survival. It was about getting to where I needed to be, and making sure I didn't attract attention.
I walked toward them, the sound of my boots crunching against the asphalt barely registering over the distant hum of city life. The men didn't notice me at first. They were busy with their own world—loud music, drugs, and far too much noise. But they'd see me soon enough. I could feel their eyes on me before they even spoke.
"Yo, you lost or somethin'?" one of them called out, his voice a little too cocky.
I didn't answer. I didn't need to.
Instead, I moved faster than any of them could register. The first guy didn't even have time to pull his gun. My fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him clean off his feet before he even knew what hit him. The others scrambled, but they weren't fast enough. I swept my leg out, tripping the next one and sending him sprawling to the ground. He barely had time to grunt before I was on him, grabbing his collar and shoving him into the brick wall.
"Keep it quiet," I growled. "Don't make this harder."
The third one—bigger, more confident—came at me, but he made the same mistake everyone did. He underestimated my speed. I sidestepped his punch, grabbed his arm, and twisted it behind his back with a sickening snap. He screamed, but it was short-lived as I slammed his head against the wall with a dull thud. The sound echoed down the alley, but none of the other passersby seemed to care. They were too busy with their own mess.
The last guy tried to pull a knife, but I didn't even flinch. I was on him before he had a chance to take a step forward, my fist driving into his gut, knocking the wind out of him. He crumpled, gasping for breath.
I stood over them, the air thick with tension, and their groaning echoed in the alley. They were all out cold, no more threat to me.
I wasn't here for the fight. I wasn't even here for the satisfaction. I needed their resources.
I rummaged through their pockets, finding cash, phones, and a few low-grade weapons that wouldn't help me right now. The money—thousands of dollars in small bills—was what I was after. I grabbed the cash, shoved it into my jacket pocket, and checked the rest of their gear.
Good enough.
I left them there, bruised and unconscious but alive. I didn't need to be a hero today.
With the cash in hand and no one else around to raise alarms, I made my way to the train station a few blocks over. The city loomed ahead, its skyline both a beacon and a cage. I bought a one-way ticket, ignoring the stares of the commuters as I slid into a seat on the train. The rhythmic clatter of the tracks was oddly comforting, a noise that felt almost familiar—like I belonged in the background, just another person heading somewhere.
No one looked twice at me. They never did.
I leaned back in my seat, trying to steady my breathing. The train jerked forward, picking up speed, heading toward New York's heart. The chaos of the city was just a few hours away, and I could already feel the pull. But it wasn't just the city that was calling to me.
It was Steve.
I couldn't get there fast enough.
The money from the gang members wasn't just for transportation—it was for something more. It was for the future, for the chance to make sure I got what I needed. I wasn't just running from Hydra anymore; I was running toward answers. Toward him.
Steve Rogers.
The city was full of ghosts, full of stories, but Steve was the one I needed to face. I didn't care how long it had been. I didn't care about what had happened to him or me in the meantime.
I had to find him.
And I would. No matter what it took.