02. | ENCOUNTER

THE FIRST TRICKLES of morning light reflected on the Washington Monument, casting shadows over the city. As the people of Washington, D.C., awoke from their slumber, Sam Wilson made his way through the desolate streets. Besides the footsteps of this early-riser athlete, a silence enveloped the political center of the United States of America.

As Sam passed Independence Avenue, he pounded by the Capitol, which gleamed with the first bits of sunlight. He made his way past the Lincoln Memorial, where the statue of Honest Abe watched over the city. But he didn't stop to notice the beauty of the solitude that morning in D.C. or the famed sights that could easily fill up a tourist's day.

As the morning grew, Sam reached the reflecting pool on the mall, an outdoor area that usually bustled with people but that remained empty in the early morning. The only other person was a solitary runner who moved so fast he appeared almost as a specter or an animal running to catch its prey. Sam watched in awe as the figure came at him.

"On your left!" the runner called out as he zipped past. Sam was determined to catch up. His competitive nature always came out on the running path, wanting to beat others on the road. Bus this time it wasn't about beating another guy's time; this was about learning the secrets to the magician's tricks.

But the other runner passed him again. "On your left!"

"Uh huh, on my left. Got it." Sam grumbled.

The other runner passed him again. And again. It felt as if he was making loops just to intimidate Sam, who was becoming even more determined to catch up.

"No. Don't you say it, don't you say it." Sam said as he heard quick footsteps running up from behind.

As he passed him again, the runner called out, "On you left!"

"Oh, come on!" Sam shouted as he picked up his speed, his feet pounding against the pavement, running as fast as he could, panting and pushing himself harder and faster until finally he was forced to stop for breath. His lungs burned and grasped for oxygen. Sweat dripped down his face. Sucking in air and trying to bring his heart rate down, he sat in the grass with his back resting against a large tree, depleted.

"Need a medic?"

An exhausted Sam looked up at a man who stood with great stoic presence. Taking in a deep breath, he replied, "I think I need a new set of lungs."

Sam's shirt was drenched in sweat. Shocked, he noticed the runner's bone-dry UNDERARMOR shirt. Was this guy human? How could he run that fast and not even break a sweat? Impossible, he thought.

When he caught his breath, he said, "Dude, you just ran, like, thirteen miles in thirty minutes."

"I guess I got a late start," the runner replied.

"Really? You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap." Sam said, he glanced away from Steve before bringing he gaze back upon him. "Did you just take it? I assume you just took it." Sam said, joking.

"What unit you with?" the man asked as he noticed the National Guard symbol on his sweatshirt.

"Fifty-eighth pararescue," Sam stated. "But now I'm working down at the V.A. You?"

"Army," the man replied.

The army? Sam thought. "Where'd you serve?"

"Europe, mostly."

Sam gulped. America hadn't been at war in Europe since the 1940's. And then it hit him. The runner had to be the world-famous Captain America.

With a gleam of recognition in his eyes, he questioned Cap. "Really, when?"

Cap realized the soldiers had it figured out. His cover was blown. He extended his hand. "Steve Rogers."

Impressed, Sam grasped Steve's hand and pulled himself to his feet. "I kind of put that together. Sam Wilson."

Then Sam stood silently, staring at the military celebrity. It was a meeting he would never have imagined when he'd left his house that morning.

"Must have freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing," Sam said. He was both in awe of and sympathetic to the life of a soldier away from home.

"It takes some getting used to." Steve replied, he turned to walk away but called over his shoulder. "It's good to meet you, Sam."

"It's your bed, right?" Sam asked.

Steve stopped and turned to face Sam. "What's that?"

"Your bed, it's too soft. When I was over there, I'd sleep on the ground, use rock for pillows, like a caveman." Sam said as he stepped closer to Steve. "Now I'm home, lying in my bed, and it's like..."

"...lying on a marshmallow, feel like I'm gonna sink right to the floor." Steve replied with a short nod of his head in understanding. "How long?"

"Two tours. You must miss the good old days, huh?"

"Well, things aren't so bad. Food's a lot better. We used to boil everything. No polio is good. Internet, so helpful. I've been reading that a lot, trying to catch up." Steve replied.

It couldn't be easy, Sam thought. Even as Captain America, Steve couldn't easily adjust to life over half a century into the future. It hadn't been a breeze for Rip Van Winkle. And truthfully, it hadn't been that easy for Sam Wilson, either. When he came back to the States after serving two tours in Afghanistan, readjusting to society was an extremely difficult task. It's never an easy adjustment to civilian life.

"Marvin Gaye, 1972, Trouble Man soundtrack. Everything you missed jammed into one album." Sam said.

"I'll put it on the list," Steve replied.

Sam snickered, thinking he was making a joke, but then Steve actually pulled a small pad out of his pocket to make a note. Like his shirt, the pad was completely dry despite his long run. Sam looked over, wondering what Steve thought he had missed when he was frozen in ice: Moon landing, Nirvana, Star Wars, to name a few.

Then Steve's cellphone chirped. He looked at the message: MISSION ALERT. EXTRACTION IMMINENT. MEET AT THE CURB. : )

He shook Sam's hand. "All right, Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run. If that's what you want to call running."

Sam scoffed playfully. "Oh, that's how it is?"

"Oh, that's how it is." Steve replied, imitating Sam's tone.

Sam didn't want the encounter to end and said, "Any time you want to stop by the V.A., make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know."

"I'll keep it in mind." Steve said with a smile.

Suddenly, a sports car pulled up and an extremely attractive woman with dark hair and sunglasses popped her head out of the driver's-side window.

"Hey, fellas." She greeted the men, "Do either of you know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil."

Sam looked past her to the museum, which was just across the street. Does she not see it right there? He thought.

The woman stepped out of the sleek sports car and smiled, taking off the wig and shaking her luxurious real golden hair, revealing her true identity: Christina Sitma, otherwise known as S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and super spy Red Cobra.

"That's hilarious." Steve said as he walked toward the sports car.

Christina looked at Sam, acknowledging him with a casual. "Hey."

"How you doing?" he replied, staring at the scene before him, trying to make sense of everything.

Steve smiled and got into the sports car with Christina. "Can't run everywhere," he said to Sam. Then they peeled off, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.

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