Chapter 007: Please Accept Your Shield
WHAM!
Steve's eye was already swelling purple, and he was slammed to the pavement with a brutal punch. He didn't even groan, quickly scrambling to his feet.
"Why can't you just stay down like a normal person?"
The little guy's tenacity far exceeded the bruiser's expectations. At first, he was afraid he'd used too much force and accidentally killed the kid, but he quickly realized his concerns were unnecessary.
No matter how many times he got hit, the scrawny bastard would get back up. He could've avoided the pain by simply staying down a little longer. But he never begged for mercy, showed no fear whatsoever; his eyes were disturbingly calm.
"I can do this all day!" Steve wiped the blood from his mouth, speaking with casual defiance.
The big man was about to walk away, but hearing Steve's words, he suddenly remembered what the little punk had said in the theater: "Let's see who's begging for mercy first." His temper flared, and he delivered another vicious haymaker.
This time, Steve was ready. He ducked low, slipping under the bruiser's swing, and stepped forward, crashing into his midsection. At the same time, he grabbed the man's thigh and yanked hard, trying to take him down.
He didn't budge an inch.
"Well, guess I need to hit the gym more," Steve thought helplessly. Suddenly, a knee filled his vision. Steve barely blocked with his forearm, getting launched backward and crashing into a trash can in the corner.
"Kid, if you stand up one more time, I'll break your damn legs!" the bruiser shouted.
Steve grabbed a trash can lid to shield his torso and stood up shakily.
"Better break both of 'em, 'cause I'm not stopping!"
"You asked for it!" the bruiser grinned and charged forward.
The two were brawling intensely, not noticing a stranger who'd entered from around the corner of the alley.
"Perfect timing." Seeing the trash can lid that Steve was using as a makeshift shield get casually swatted away by the bruiser, Mason—who'd nearly arrived too late—smiled knowingly.
"Hey, buddy, use this!"
Mason shouted at Steve as he burst from the shadows, hurling a circular shield that spun through the air toward him.
"Once he catches the shield, the mission's complete!" Mason grinned. "This is Captain America's shield and his first contact with it."
Steve's face was battered and he was swaying on his feet. He thought he heard someone shouting something. Then he saw something round flying straight at him. He reached out to catch it, but his reaction was just a fraction too slow.
CLANG!
The shield struck Steve squarely on the forehead. He felt the world spin and collapsed unconscious.
"Who the hell are you?" The bruiser turned around, glaring at Mason who'd suddenly appeared.
Mason stood there dumbstruck, staring at Steve, whom he'd just accidentally knocked out. He didn't even have the energy to be frustrated with himself.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!" The bruiser stepped forward, cocking his fist back and aiming for Mason's face.
Mason dodged the bruiser's attack with a sidestep, using the momentum of his pivot to drive forward with his core, delivering a sharp elbow strike to the man's sternum. The bruiser, hit by Mason's blow, felt his chest compress and almost couldn't draw breath. Then, a fist filled his vision, and sharp pain sent him sprawling to the ground, out cold.
Having quickly dealt with the troublesome thug, Mason hurried toward where Steve had fallen.
Not long after arriving in this dimension, Mason had discovered that his body was remarkably strong—in some ways even comparable to elite athletes from his original world.
Mason didn't know if this body's original owner had been naturally gifted, or if it was an unexpected benefit from the so-called Dimensional Express he'd encountered during his jump.
As someone who'd been in possession of the Tesseract, perhaps prolonged proximity had subtly enhanced his physical capabilities. Of course, his strength was still within human parameters, nothing compared to Red Skull or the super-soldier-enhanced Captain America.
"Hey, you okay?"
Mason crouched down and gently tapped Steve's cheek. Seeing that the other man was only dazed, he relaxed. But just then, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his lower back, and a powerful force struck him, sending him sprawling forward onto the pavement.
When he looked back, he saw a tall young man in an immaculate Army uniform glaring at him furiously.
The young man had classically handsome features and a peculiar brooding intensity about him. His slightly tilted garrison cap gave him a somewhat rebellious appearance.
It was none other than Captain America's best friend, Sergeant James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes.
Mason was completely blindsided. What the hell was happening? Anyone would be pissed after getting kicked to the ground out of nowhere. He rubbed his back and stood up, only to see the young sergeant help Steve to his feet, then pick up the shield from the ground, point it at Mason's nose, and shout,
"You trying to kill somebody with that thing?"
Mason was speechless.
"Bucky, you've got it wrong. This gentleman was trying to help me, but..."
"How did I get it wrong? I saw it clearly from down the block. This guy pulled out a shield from nowhere and whipped it at your head. Lucky for you, it hit you face-on." Barnes touched the razor-sharp edge of the shield. "If it had hit sideways, I'd only be able to visit you at the cemetery."
"Heh, listen, you really misunderstood. This gentleman wanted me to catch the shield to block that guy's attack, but unfortunately, I was too out of it to grab it."
Hearing this, Mason finally understood what had transpired. So he'd taken that kick for nothing? But since the mission was about to be completed, he decided not to make a fuss.
Stepping forward, he extended his hand. "Hello, I'm Mason, originally from Norway."
"I'm Steve Rogers, and this is my best friend, James Barnes. You can call him Bucky."
"Pleasure."
"Sorry, I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?" Barnes looked apologetic; he'd kicked with considerable force, fueled by protective anger.
Mason cursed internally, but his face remained neutral. "It's nothing, but you'll probably have to spring for some new clothes," Mason joked with a smile.
The alley was littered with garbage. After rolling on the ground, his clothes were stained with filth, including what appeared to be some hobo vomit.
Mason picked up the shield. "We're destined to meet; consider this shield a gift from me, since it's our first time crossing paths," Mason said warmly, pressing the shield into Steve Rogers' hands.
"Captain America, please accept your shield!" Mason thought triumphantly to himself.
Steve was taken aback. Growing up, his only friend had been Bucky, and he'd never received a gift from anyone else before—especially one as unusual as this.
A circular metal shield.
"What's wrong, Steve? Don't you want to be friends with me?" Mason said, feigning hurt feelings.
"No! Don't get the wrong idea, I just... I just..." Steve's brow furrowed slightly, then relaxed. "I just haven't made a second friend besides Bucky before."
Mason smiled, clapping Steve on the shoulder. "Take my shield—we're friends now!"
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