Chapter 006: Steve, Where Are You?
Three months later, in Brooklyn, New York.
Mason's gaunt figure appeared on the street. He'd traveled for over three months before finally setting foot on American soil.
He'd initially thought that, given his familiarity with the MCU timeline, this so-called Dimensional Express mission would be incredibly simple—something he could complete with minimal effort. But once it began, he discovered things were far more complicated than that.
This was a real world, without plot armor, without convenient narrative shortcuts. Everyone around him had their own agendas, and along the way, due to carelessness, he'd come within inches of death several times.
Three months of surviving on the run had completely immersed Mason in this reality, and the harsh circumstances had forced him to abandon any cavalier attitude and take his bizarre delivery job seriously.
"Steve, where the hell are you?" Mason frowned, scanning the bustling crowds on the street.
He'd arrived in this universe at the end of March 1942, and with three months of travel, it was now approaching August. He estimated that the events of The First Avenger were about to kick off. If he couldn't locate Steve Rogers before the story began, it would be nearly impossible to approach him once the guy entered the military program.
In Mason's estimation, as long as he successfully found Steve Rogers, he'd surely be able to convince him to accept the shield he was carrying—assuming his sales pitch was good enough.
For several days, Mason haunted the various recruitment centers throughout Brooklyn, doing his best to track down Steve Rogers.
Although it was wartime, the continental United States wasn't a war zone, and civilian life was relatively stable, showing that people had confidence in the war effort. Brooklyn was a major immigrant neighborhood, and Mason's face could blend into the crowd without drawing suspicion.
However, trying to find one random nobody in Brooklyn—a borough with over two and a half million residents—was like searching for a needle in a haystack. After weeks of searching, Mason had practically worn grooves in the sidewalk outside recruitment centers, but he still hadn't found Steve Rogers.
"Could it be that he hasn't tried to enlist in Brooklyn during this period?" Mason suddenly remembered a detail from the movie where Steve Rogers had used falsified documents multiple times, attempting to pass enlistment physicals at various recruitment centers across the city.
There were countless recruitment offices throughout New York City. Checking them all would take forever. With his deadline fast approaching, Mason was starting to feel genuine anxiety.
Before his dimensional jump, he'd just been an ordinary guy from the States, nothing special in the brains department. Although he'd been in this world for several months, he'd been constantly on the move and didn't fully understand how 1940s society operated, nor did he know where to begin his search.
"Hey, mister, wanna see a picture? Supporting the troops—portion of the ticket sales goes to the federal government to support the war effort." Mason was lost in thought when a young ticket seller grabbed his sleeve as he passed a movie theater.
His mind was completely occupied with Steve Rogers; he had zero interest in watching a movie. Just as he was about to brush the kid off, the young man blocked his path again.
"Sir, please check this out. It's Bambi, a Disney animated feature. I guarantee you won't regret it."
Mason waved dismissively and was about to leave when a sudden realization hit him—a specific detail he remembered. He recalled a scene from The First Avenger where Steve confronted a loud jerk in a movie theater, only to get his ass kicked in the alley behind it afterward.
Keep in mind, this was 1942, not the modern era with multiplexes on every corner. Back then, animated features were extremely rare events, and Bambi had its original theatrical release in August 1942.
The timing matched perfectly, and a thought crystallized in his mind.
"Isn't there a World Exposition coming up?" Mason asked.
"Sir, are you planning to attend? The Expo opens the day after tomorrow," the kid replied enthusiastically. "How about it, mister? Support our boys overseas! Bambi—you won't regret it!"
Having found a critical lead, Mason's spirits lifted considerably. He asked for more details and bought a ticket.
"Finally, I don't have to search blindly anymore." Mason compiled information on all the theaters in Brooklyn and systematically checked them, eliminating those whose locations and layouts clearly didn't match what he remembered from the film.
Finally, only three remained as possibilities. Now, all he had to do was stake out each theater showing Bambi, wait for Steve Rogers to show up and get into trouble, then make his dramatic entrance!
That was the future Captain America; watching him get his ass kicked and then swooping in to help would be something worth bragging about later.
…
Steve Rogers was in a foul mood lately, walking dejectedly down the streets of Brooklyn.
"Failed again. Fourth time now. I just want to serve my country—is that really asking too much?" Thinking this, he couldn't suppress a cough, looking down at his skeletal arms. Steve shook his head helplessly.
"If I had a healthy body, maybe things would be different."
"Hey, sir, come see a picture! Bambi. Portion of proceeds supports our troops." Steve Rogers was about to decline, but upon hearing that second part, his expression softened, and he quietly bought a ticket, queued up, and entered the theater.
"I should contribute to the war effort, even if it's just a few cents," Steve thought to himself.
Before the main feature started, newsreel footage from the front lines played, showing Allied soldiers' courageous resistance against the Axis powers and the nationwide surge of patriotic spirit. Just then, an obnoxious voice rang out from the row in front.
"Aw, who cares about this junk? Just start the cartoon already!"
"Hey, show some respect!" Steve couldn't help but speak up, his tone carrying obvious contempt that made everyone around him uncomfortable.
"I'll say whatever I want—what're you gonna do about it?" Hearing Steve's voice, the figure in front stood up, his massive frame casting a shadow over the smaller man. He grabbed Steve by the collar and hoisted him up like a rag doll.
"So you're the wise guy? Heh! You cocky little punk!" He dragged Steve toward the theater exit.
Although the surrounding patrons all looked angry, they took one look at the bruiser's size, swallowed hard, and stayed silent, pretending not to notice.
The big man let out a derisive laugh, his smirk growing more arrogant. "Buncha yellow-bellies." He looked down at Steve with contempt. "Let's see how tough you really are, runt!"
Steve fired back defiantly, "Then let's see who's begging for mercy first!"
[+500 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+10 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]
If you enjoyed this chapter, leave a Review!
P*atreon/DarkFoxx (20+ advanced chapters)