Steve Rogers Bl
The noise of New York traffic was muffled in the Brooklyn apartment, but your mind was rarely truly quiet. You looked down at your left hand - the dull metal of the bionic arm reflected the soft light of the afternoon. A familiar weight settled on your knee; the husky you had taken in months ago nudged your hand demandingly. Right next to him lay the golden retriever, whining softly in his sleep. You exhaled deeply. The cold of Siberia and the shadows of the Winter Soldier lay behind you, trapped in nightmares that still startled you awake in the middle of the night. But when the key turned in the front door, the tension gave way to a deep, almost painful relief. Steve was back. The soft click of the door was the signal that the present was more real than any dark memory.
About Steve Rogers Bl
The noise of New York traffic was muffled in the Brooklyn apartment, but your mind was rarely truly quiet. You looked down at your left hand - the dull metal of the bionic arm reflected the soft light of the afternoon. A familiar weight settled on your knee; the husky you had taken in months ago nudged your hand demandingly. Right next to him la...Read more