A/N
I will write an Avengers fic I'm happy with. I swear I will.

Such a nice day. Why today? But then, it always started on a nice day. Taking a walk in the morn, basking in the sunrays, and by the time the clock has struck twelve, it's hand to hand combat with alien, and human, psychopaths, firing arrows at crazed armies, and just generally kicking ass however they possibly could.

So it never came to a surprise to Steve Rodgers: not any more, anyway. The super soldier had seen far too many a strange phenomenon to say anything was a surprise anymore. Heck, when he first woke from his sleep, a toaster was a surprise, and the ringing of a cell phone. So when he'd gone up against his first alien army, well, that had been a surprise too. Not much of one. He'd already been on a flying ship, met two Gods despite being raised to believe there was only one, and seen a timid scientist who kept to himself out of fear of rejection mutate into the angriest, biggest thing he'd ever seen. But now, a psychopath was the norm. If they didn't get one for a few weeks, well, that was what scared him. So Steve wasn't surprised when today turned into yet another memorable day. It just didn't start the same way his memorable days normally did.

Steve Rodgers was out jogging, a habit he'd developed to combat his constant high energy levels the serum had gifted him with. Unlike other joggers, though, Steve didn't simply run around parks. Such a route was too short to occupy his mind and challenge him. No, Steve had JARVIS calculate his routes beforehand, and relay the information through an earpiece Tony had taught him how to use. He'd often end up miles away from Avengers Tower, previously Stark Tower, before turning around and today was no different. It seemed this time, JARVIS had mixed up the route a little for him, new scenery, and Steve appreciated it, especially when the AI led him to abandoned areas, free of civilians, so he could let of some steam, and usually end up demolishing something or other. On his bad days, it was frequently a building. Luckily for him, he'd ended up in an old, rundown retail park, and he smiled. With the sun beating down, it couldn't have been a better day to find an old, rundown retail park.

Punch after punch was landed on walls, obliterating them, leaving holes as aftermath. Steve could feel the sweat running down his face, but he wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop. This was what he needed so desperately: to push himself to the limits and beyond. When he managed such a feat, he felt like he was something, like he belonged, because in this century, he was the contrary. He was a man out of time and a man out of place.

His fists throbbed and the sun burnt, but he refused to stop, the brick walls crumbling in front of him, a representation of his anger, his built up emotions, just spilling out through his fists. Most of them were often down to Tony, the arrogant prick. The man was just so self-obsessed, that even those times when he disregarded his own life, when he put himself in the line of danger didn't outshine his true egotistical nature.

Steve wondered if any of his teammates knew how he released his anger, how he always stayed so calm around Tony, or when Fury announced there was another megalomaniac on the loose, or when Thor accidently demolished yet another building SHIELD would have to pay for, because he decided to swing his hammer, or Mjolnir as Thor insisted it was called, around.

He became so wrapped up in thoughts that he barely heard the shrill scream slicing through the air, followed by curse after insult after mockery.

"Did you really think you could run? HIDE?" Steve shuddered at the voice as his fists came to rest, but still balled up. Deep, and very god damn menacing. And oh so angry. Clearly the voice despised whomever it was talking to intensely, and Steve felt his instincts taking over his mind, as he began to run to the source of the scream. Where that was, he didn't know, he just knew he was running towards it.

"What, you thought you could fool us? Do you think there's someone still out there who gives a bloody DAMN ABOUT YOU? SOMEONE WHO CARES FOR YOU? Don't kid yourself, son. No-body loves you. No-one ever did." Steve was so close, he could hear the sound of a punch, or a slap, or just something painful. And he was so close, he heard the pained whimper, the desperate cry out for the help. His nails dug into his palms as he squeezed his fists tighter, not even bothering to find the door. He'd make his own way in. Because he couldn't wait. That could be a civilian. And it most definitely was something in pain, who needed help, who needed him.

Steve pulled his fist back as the wall came ever closer, and threw the punch forward, bracing himself as his arm jarred from the impact. But it worked. There was a hole. He moved back a bit, and threw himself at the wall, sideward on. The wall gave away, the bricks scattering around, and Steve stumbled through the newly formed hole, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.

"Oh, look, and here comes Captain America." The menacing voice hissed, mockery dripping of Steve's superhero alter-ego name. "And guess what. If he knew who you were, and what you'd done, he'd just turn around, and walk away. Or maybe watch. But he wouldn't help you. Nobody will help you. Not when they know who you are, when they find out." Steve watched in horror as his vision cleared up, the taunter clad in a rather fancy looking suit, definitely a fitted suit, the victim barely conscious. It's face, it's whole body, was covered in bruises and cuts and blood, some fresh and some dried. His hair lay matted, some stuck onto his forehead, but for the life of him, Steve couldn't tell what colour it was. The victim sat, bare-chest, hands bound behinds his back, whimpering, shivering, and something primal that Steve hadn't felt in a long time surfaced, as he let his heart take over, releasing strikes upon the twisted abuser. It was far more therapeutic than punching walls, and Steve felt no regret as the monster lay cold out on the floor. He deserved it.

Steve wasted no time in rushing over to the victim, his hands working on the ropes, tugging at the knots. Steve's breathing had begun to level again after the rush of adrenaline, but the same couldn't be said for the victim, whose breathing grew more shallow and distant as the seconds passed. Steve noticed the odd angle at which the man's leg was bent, and realised that was where the scream had come from. He'd had his leg broken.

"Hey, hey. Look at me. You're going to be okay, I swear. Nobody's going to hurt you now, you're safe now…" The man lifted his head slightly, wide eyed and bruised, and as his gaze met Steve's, a flash of pure, childlike fear crossed his blue, blue eyes before they rolled back, and he collapsed into Steve's arms.