horror looks you right between the eyes.

[manwithaplan]

It had been a long time since Steve Rogers had found himself in a back alley fight. In keeping with the tradition that he had set all those years ago, he was outmatched, his opponent both bigger and stronger. But boneheaded though they were, the bullies that he used to challenge to fights that he was only destined to lose were still very much human men. His rival now was quite the opposite, a towering, aggressive beast who seemed to have a personal vendetta to settle. With a coat of thick, unruly fur, it was clawed and fanged in the most intimidating possible way. Though he did his best to avoid direct contact, an angry slash across his shoulder had torn through the rough leather of Steve's jacket and left behind a ragged, bleeding gash. Fortunately, it was the other arm with which he held the shield, swinging it over his head now to deflect a blow that thundered in the cramped setting. Despite its many tactical inconveniences, Steve was grateful to have managed to corner the beast in here, the alley being far preferable to the possibility of others on the street getting hurt. If not the constant clang of metal and claw, then the repeated roaring should have kept even the most curious at a distance. But from the corner of his eye, Steve watched a figure round the corner.

In the heat of battle, he forgot all about the existence of T.J. Hammond. Instead, he saw Bucky Barnes, inexplicably alive and well and coming to his rescue just as he had in their youth. He froze just long enough for the beast to swing a heavy fist at his midsection. The force was such that Steve was lifted into the air and hurled into the brick wall behind him.

Comments

[inablur]

In T.J.'s experience, the whole drug deals in dark alleys thing has been a painful cliché, nothing that ever really actually happens. Of course, back home, he ran in pretty high-end circles, had easier ways of getting what he was looking for. That's largely been the case here, too, except this one stupid son of a bitch apparently hasn't figured out how inconvenient it is yet, not to mention how easy to attract attention. It leaves him more uneasy than he should be, standing there waiting, checking his watch every few minutes until he decides that his guy just isn't going to show, which is more than a little annoying. He'll just have to come up with another way to get his fix.

He's headed just a little ways down the next block, phone already in his hand, when a noise from the next alley over catches his attention. Heading away from it would probably be wisest, but he doesn't really stop to think that through, too curious not to, pocketing the phone again as he heads in its direction. Whatever he's expecting, though, it sure as fuck isn't what he comes across, the creature in front of him one that looks like something out of a science fiction movie, not real life. Any thoughts he has of turning and getting the hell out of the way, though, are put to a stop when he realizes who's fighting it. "Holy shit," he says, though he's at least got enough sense not to go heading towards the thing. "Steve, Jesus, are you okay?"

[manwithaplan]

Pain ripples from his center, intense and agonizing. He groans against the back of his hand, which flew forward just in time to break the fall for his face; still, the sharp crack of his own knuckles against his cheekbone was no picnic. Distantly, he can hear concern in Bucky's voice, but whatever small amount of focus he can drag away from the pain is trained squarely on the beast now hovering above him. It roars again and, strategist that he is, Steve can guess what it will do next. More likely than not, he will be lifted up and tossed into the opposite wall like a rag doll. Before that can happen, he forces his hands flat beneath him and pushes up.

"Stay back!" His voice is hoarse yet insistent. Once, their roles were switched, with Bucky standing up to the foes that Steve wasn't strong enough to face on his own. But that was a long time ago, and in the moment, his thoughts addled by the pain he is in, the only thing running through his mind is the fear of watching his friend die again. It doesn't dawn on him until he's back on his feet that it must be T.J. standing at the edge of the alley. Then, angry with himself for having forgotten even momentarily, he channels that fury into a heavy blow and aims it at the beast.

[inablur]

T.J. doesn't need to be told twice. Were it anyone else facing off with... whatever that thing is, he'd probably be running for help right about now, too, trying to get police or at least someone with a weapon to come try to take this creepy-looking fucker out. As it is, Steve might be the only person he knows capable of engaging with this thing and standing a chance against it, something that becomes pretty well clear with the hit the beast takes, a turning of the tide from a moment ago.

"The hell is that thing?" he asks, realizing belatedly that he ought to at least move out of the way. Waiting until he thinks he won't be seen, he steps aside, leaning back against the wall, so he's not within the path of the entrance to the alleyway. The last thing anyone needs is this animal wreaking havoc all over Darrow, but if it decides to make a run for it, he doesn't want to be in its way.

[manwithaplan]

Evidently, the beast in the alley would vastly prefer dishing the blows to receiving them. When Steve's fist buries itself in its side, it lets out what can only be a howl of pain, though even that is almost indistinguishable from the roaring of before. Wary of what might come next, Steve begins to move away, putting some distance between himself and his foe before it can even begin to think about launching a counterattack. Now that he has an audience, he has to begin thinking about how to end this scuffle as soon and with as few injuries as possible. But as he and the beast slowly begin to circle one another, each attempting to anticipate the other's next move, he begins to consider T.J.'s question. The legends go back decades, originating sometime before even Steve can remember. Long ago, he might have thought it impossible, but he no longer has the luxury of disbelief.

"I think it might be Bigfoot," he calls back, feeling stupid even as he makes the suggestion. Then again, it isn't as if he's relaying the story hours later to a skeptical audience. The proof is right here in this alley, waving two enormous, balled fists over its ugly head.

[inablur]

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," T.J. says, huffing out an incredulous laugh. Really, it's just because it's the only thing he can think of, when it would be far too weird to hear something like that and just accept it. He can't really doubt what's right in front of him, after all. Whether it's Bigfoot or some other kind of fucking monster, it's very much real and very much dangerous, leaving him unsure whether he's grateful he wound up staying sober right now or if he wishes he were already high out of his mind. This isn't something he's equipped in the least to handle, just thinking about it startlingly difficult, but he honestly wouldn't want anything to happen to him, either. Steve would probably just pull that noble shit and try to help him, and then they might both be fucked. "So what do we do?"

[manwithaplan]

"Beat 'im into submission," answers Steve. Just then, he sees an opportunity and takes it, punctuating his sentence with a fist aimed as high as he can reach. It lands almost directly at the center of the beast's chest and with enough force to send it staggering back. He follows this up with a lower kick that would sweep any human man from his feet. Bigfoot, however, maintains enough balance to counter with two swinging fists. Steve dodges the first and his shield receives the brunt of the second. The impact sends a wave of vibrations through the shield that would dizzy him if he gave it the chance, but he powers through.

It's a big risk, but he decides to let go of his shield for a moment. He jumps back as far as he can and swings the shield up high. It flies over the beast's head as intended. Bigfoot seizes the chance to attack, running toward Steve with more speed than any creature that size should have. But just before the Bigfoot reaches Steve, the shield bounces with a loud clang on the furthest wall and comes flying back down. It hits the beast from behind, slamming hard against the skull, if the sound is any indication. Both monster and shield collapse on the alley floor not a second later.

[inablur]

All T.J. can really do is watch with widened eyes, somewhere between confused and horrified and hopeful. There's no way any person should stand any kind of a chance against this thing, and he's half-expecting it to go very wrong, very quickly. Steve's been holding his own, though, for which he's more than a little grateful. He wouldn't have wanted to come across Bigfoot in an alley fighting anyone else, that's for damn sure. No one else could have put up a fight like this, he thinks, and definitely couldn't wind up actually knocking the creature out.

Once it's down, he takes a few deep breaths, half-expecting it to get right to its feet again. It doesn't, though, and then he finally steps forward, still wary, unable to pretend like he isn't shaken. "Jesus fucking Christ," he says, not much more than an exhale. "Are you alright, man? It looked like it got you pretty good."