20096/A Matter of Perspective

A Matter of Perspective
Date of Scene:	19 February 2025
Location:	Uptown - St. Martin's Island
Synopsis:	Supergirl gets an expected call for help from an unexpected hero. Information is given, and along with it, an ominous warning of something festering in the Nation's Capitol. The only question now is... what are you gonna do about it, Supergirl?
Cast of Characters:	Kara Danvers, Steve Rogers

---

Kara Danvers has posed:
Perspective is a funny thing, sometimes. A home can feel like an entire world sometimes -- so much more than the sum of its walls, or the appliances and furnishings within it. But held up against a city, it can feel so... entirely small. And way up above the skies of Metropolis, even an entire city can feel tiny. Miniscule. Just a... collection of metal sitting atop seemingly limitless rock. And then... what is that rock, in the weight of the entire cosmos?

But none of it is insignificant. Not that chunk of rock floating through space. Not that collection of metal sitting atop it. Nor those collections of walls, and furnishings, and appliances tucked within that metal.

None of it is insignificant.

Supergirl floats lazily amongst a wisp of cirrus cloud. Not even the birds fly up here, where it's high enough that the cold turns water vapor into snow. Her fingers drift lazily through it, watching the small shards of ice -- not even snowflakes -- sort of dissipate like diamond dust over her fingertips.

She exhales, and the vapor warmed from her lungs is chilled instantly to a little puff of air as it leaves her lips, while she orients her head to the side to point her ear towards the city of Metropolis, of which she remains an ever-watchful, ever-protective, ever-vigilant guardian of.

Steve Rogers has posed:
It's a difficult thing living in the modern world and officially being dead. Cash still talks, but too much of it draws attention. Mass public transit presents its own problems when you're a recognizable face. Even if you've grown a beard of respectable length to conceal that same face. It's hard to travel in more built-up, populated areas with the general acceptance of public surveillance that has grown over the decades. Though, sometimes, it's the old tricks that can often be the best tricks. The beard can conceal the definition of features, but sunglasses or a baseball cap can break up the general appearance of an individual just enough to fool many. How often do celebrities go unnoticed among the general population because they're expected to be taller, aren't wearing makeup, or dressing in some signature style?

This is precisely how Steve Rogers has traveled through Metropolis. Following an encounter with a questionably sane former criminal to living off of the streets for the few days that followed, he's flown under the radar. The parking structure he has chosen has been thoroughly surveilled over the last few days and he's timed out the ideal time to make his move. The gate guard takes their lunch in their car at half-past-one. Most pedestrian and automobile traffic has concluded around the same time. It's the ideal time to slip into the parking garage and utilize it for his needs. It's when there's the least likely to be eavedropping eyes and ears to take note of him or anything that he's about to instigate.

It's from the top level of that parking structure that Steve takes in a deep breath and upon releasing it, calls out with sudden sharp shout, "Supergirl, help me!"

He doubts that it's going to take long. He doesn't doubt that his pride feels just the smallest of pains at having to call out like that. It's for the greater good though and thus it's a sacrifice that he's willing to make. Patriotism, humanity; it shouldn't hinge upon ego.

Now he waits, resting his hands upon the ledge formed by the parking structure's open air design. He uses it to support him and his head lowers, bowing so that the baseball cap keeps his features concealed against the slim possibility of some otherwise undetected recording device on a nearby building or someone just so happening to glance out of the wrong window, at the wrong angle, at the wrong time.

Kara Danvers has posed:
Supergirl, help me!

What happens next happens quickly. Steve Rodgers won't need to wait long past the moment that his call for aid leaves his lips. It's almost too quick to register just how fast Supergirl appears, though her presence is known immediately by a crack of air that she displaces that condenses and boils off of her chest and torso. A little, miniature sonic-boom that sounds a bit less like the whip of lightning and more like a snap of a sizable tree limb. And yet despite the suddenness of her arrival, there is no violence to it. In fact, there is a softness to the way that her foot lands atop the ledge of the parking structure. Toe to heel, and then a settling back on both feet.

There's an uncanny otherworldly nature to the moment. A girl appearing as if from thin air, or... falling out of the sky. The seeming lightness to a body that could make a sound like that simply by moving. And the way that her hair seems to almost float for a moment or two after she'd landed, before it settles into bouncy, wavey curls of golden sunshine around her shoulders. A pair of blue eyes turn towards Steve Rodgers now, and what he might feel is a sensation that many would-be criminals of Metropolis may have felt, when those eyes turned towards them.

Kindness. Curiosity. And inevitability.

"Hi!" she chimes, and gives a look left, then right, as if she's looking for some sort of ambush or trap to be sprung. And yet there's something about the gesture that seems as if she already knows she's safe.

"Interesting strategy. The shouting thing, I mean! Though I've gotta say, if it works, it works," Supergirl says, before her eyes turn, once more, to Steve Rodgers. She sets her hands on her hips and adopts a more expectant posture and expression.

"And nobody is jumping out at me with guns or knives or whatever. So can I... uh. Um. Well. How can I help?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
To his credit the sudden sound doesn't startle him or cause him to visibly jerk out of some animal instinct to take flight. In a sense the whole thing is an ambush, but one dedicated to the very best of reasons. The sudden thunderous snap draws the baseball cap up and his blue eyes begin to search the skies, but it's a pointless effort. She's already here. Supergirl's floating step onto the ledge results in Steve's eyes widening ever so slightly. Not out of surprise or fear, but something aligning more with intrigued or simply being impressed. He considers the blonde-haired Kryptonian for a moment and a hand rises up, briefly removing his baseball cap out of general mannerly habit.

"Ma'am," he says with a polite dip of his head before the baseball cap's dropped back into place a pulled down. The voice? I may be familiar, even if the beard and more humble dress works to conceal him as nothing more than a simple man living rough.

The cap replaced and its bill shading his face, Steve's broad shoulders shrug in a bid to settle his heavy canvas jacket into a place of greater comfort while he looks up to Supergirl as she stands upon the ledge, "Hey," he says with a small smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. It looks almost roguish if it weren't for the wholesome nature of it; playful, perhaps. "Like you said: if it works, it works. I needed to speak to you and it seemed like the best way to go about it. You want to give me a phone number or electronic mail address? That might make things easier next time," he says with the mildest of Brooklyn accents that more than likely he's taken some steps to minimize.

"You can help me by taking us somewhere more secure. Preferably somewhere away from the city. Cameras are a big deal these days and I'd rather not risk my mission. My name is Steve Rogers," he answers with a voice kept low to prevent his half of the conversation from carrying far from his own position, "I'm alive, but working. I can explain more," he pauses for a moment to glance to his left, and then back up to Supergirl, "just right here isn't the best place for that conversation. Care to give me a lift?"

Is... is he about to lift his arms like a child, expecting to be picked up and carried?

Steve's arms rise up and his fingers curl inward, creating the time-honored 'uppies' or 'come and get it' gesture with his hands.

Kara Danvers has posed:
There's something about that voice that Supergirl recognizes. A dawning look of something on the woman's youthful features as she regards Steve Rodgers with a certain (understandable) amount of skepticism that a woman of her age and demographic might regard a man in his age and demographic with... in the context of being lured into an isolated parking garage. She keeps her hands squarely on her hips, though she does note the easiness to which the man smiles and it seems to put her oddly at ease.

A soft, cool breeze rolls from behind her. It lifts her hair and cape as it goes, causing both to sort of caress at her shoulders and the backs of her legs. It's the only motion in an otherwise still body.

"'Electronic mail address'?" Kara says, a look of visible confusion on her face at the way it's phrased. Like... who doesn't say e-mail?! But then that dawning recognition firmly cements on her expression when the man reveals his name. Her eyes widen, and she can't help but take a small, surprised step back.

"/The/ Steve Rodgers?!" she asks, and then clasps both of her hands over her mouth to stifle the sound. And though half of her expression of apology is hidden behind those hands, he'll see it in her eyes. When she turns to look over her left shoulder, and then her right... and then looks back towards him, to see him lifting his arms up in apparent suggestion that she... carry him... she takes a second step back and lifts her arms to wave those hands back and forth.

WStill, when she speaks to him, it's in a low, hushed whisper.

"I am not giving you a /lift/, /Steve/," Kara says. Adorably huffy. Indignant, even. Like... if anyone's supposed to be carried, here, it's supposed to be her! And there is an embarrassed flush of pink to her cheeks at the suggestion, though, you know... those fingers are curling inward. Uppies are requested, and Captain America -- who should be dead -- is asking her for a secure... air-Uber.

Kara makes such a face.

It's like. C'mon, man. Don't make me do this. Ugh. I guess. /Fine/. But I won't like it. All of those things, rolled into one, and then dipped in a bit of twenty-something, girlish embarrassment.

"This is so weird," Supergirl relents. And then...

            __CRACK___

    The pair of them are atop a Skyscraper in downtown Metropolis. In fact, the parking garage is in view of them -- though it's several city blocks away, at this point. And it'll probably feel very odd for Steve Rogers to suddenly be somewhere else. This isn't teleportation, after all. It's super-speed, and his body does physically travel the distance. Thankfully, it happens so quickly that any perception of G-Force is diminished and... you know. He's a super soldier.

Kara is already staggering backwards, and dusting herself off like she got grown-man cooties on her, smoothing her skirt over the top of her thighs and looking a little frazzled and embarrassed.

"There. Isolated. This rooftop's served me pretty well, as far as these things go. But we probably shouldn't linger anyway, so I'm just going to cut to the chase."

Supergirl regains her composure. Hands on hips. /Heroic/.

"I thought you were dead."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"In the flesh, Miss," Steve answers with only a faint smile that illustrates some mild amusement. "I'll explain everything once we're somewhere more secure," he promises with a firm nod of his head. Despite the calm, light way that he seems to approach the subject it's clear by the sudden shift of his voice into more serious tones that he takes the matter far more seriously than his wholesomely casual manner lets on. He clears his throat and lifts a hand, likely to forestall more of Kara's adorably huffy and indignant protests, "I assure you that my reasoning is..."

The rest is cut off by the sudden rush of wind that leads him to feel as though he's launched through the air. He feels his soul leave his body or at least he thinks it does as the world turns to a blur and his eyes shut tightly against it. He sucks in a breath and holds it, releasing it in short bursts in a fashion akin to a modern fighter pilot attempting to stave off the g-force effects of a particularly tight maneuver.

Suddenly his feet impact solid ground and Steve's hand moves out to steady himself, only to find open air to green him. No walls, no ledge. The top of the skyscraper comes abruptly into focus and he lets out a low whistle, steadying himself with a step toward the center of the building's rooftop. He only stops when he finds the architectural object to steady himself, gathering his wits about him with a couple light shakes of his head.

Again he breathes out, steadying himself both physically and mentally. To his credit the disorientation brought on by the rapid travel fades quickly and he stands a little taller with a disciplined expression settling onto his face. The feather in Supergirl's cap? His baseball cap never flew off of his head and remains in place. He notes that with the point of a finger, along with a calmly spoken, "Thanks for making sure the hat made it with me," he says in answer to the proclamation of his dead.

He nods once, seeming to acknowledge the fact of his being alive and as the wind whips about him, threatening to jostle him far more than it may affect the Kryptonian, Steve's hands move to collect something tucked away beneath his jacket, "There's deep, very deep, corruption in the White House. I've gathered evidence to suggest that not only the White House or D.C. is at risk, but the entire nation," he begins but soon follows that preamble with a pause, perhaps to truly add weight to the words that follow, "and after that, the rest of the world."

He withdraws the folder from its place hidden beneath his lighter jacket worn beneath the heavier canvas one and holds it out toward Supergirl as he continues, "The evidence has been compiled here and please keep this information secure. We can't risk it or my status leaking, but I need your help and I need the help of the other Titans if we're going to prevent the worst case scenario from coming to pass".

The folder is then offered out to Kara, his chin dipping with a slight nod to signal that if she wishes to accept it and review the referenced evidence, then it's hers for the claiming.

Kara Danvers has posed:
Supergirl smooths her hand down her skirt one more time, before she settles back into her more traditional posture. Her hands rest on her hips and she squares her shoulders, lifting her chin while she assesses Captain America and listens to his case. There is a certain sort of dread and worry that crosses her features, when he mentions corruption in the White House. An infection that threatens not only Washington DC, but the entire nation -- and quite possibly the world.

It's... perspective again, isn't it? It all comes back to perspective. The walls of the white house. The steel of Washington DC. The chunk of rock, floating through space.

None of it is insignificant.

"I'll help however I can," Supergirl says, and reaches out to take the folder when it's handed to her. That childlike, sweet expression is replaced with something a little more mature. A little more tired, and a little more weary.

When she speaks, her tone reflects her expression. It sounds a little sad.

"...This world and its people have endured so much. I'm not sure it can handle another worst case scenario."