Sir Nicholas Fury

He's pacing the rug of his office with steps that are no weaker for his age. The media attributes it to clean living, only he and one chemist know the real secret. One chemist who hasn't seen the light of day since before Nick Fury's funeral, not nearly long enough ago.

It was bad enough when there were three of them appearing out of nowhere. Rogers was supposed to have been disintegrated, Fury was dead; he knew because he'd been there when it happened, and the new man? Worse and worse. The last thing he wanted, the last thing he needed, was a new batch of costumed do-gooders showing up to force their ideals on him again.

He's worked hard to get where he is today. He's lied, cheated, stolen, and committed far worse than mere murder to keep people under his thumb and out of his way. Sabotage of this hero, assassination of that one, backing this or that law. Weeding out the strong and leaving the public weak so that his voice would soothe them and make them follow.

This will not stand. One purple finger points at the generals and spooks lined up near the door, "You will find them, each and every one of them. I most especially want the man in the orange suit and the man in the green. One and Four. You will find them and you will bring them to me.

"Dead or alive."

What it's not about: It's not about money, or fame. It's not about making a name for yourself. It's not about being known or about being acknowledged.

What it's about: It's about joining the people who are doing something right, even if you aren't sure that they're going to accept you.

You're on the wrong side of the country, so it took a while. You had to get your life moved to where they are, and do it so smoothly nobody noticed. You had to pack everything carefully just in case. You're not rich, and you're not able to just drop everything and go flying off.

In New York you're impatient and want to go, go, go. That's not how they do things, though, and you want them to accept you into their fold. Assuming you can find them. You haunt the areas you think they might be in, accepting and ignoring the looks you get in certain parts of the city.

The armor sits at home, in boxes, waiting. You talk to it, sometimes, because there is no one else to talk to about all of your plans for it.

And you live your life. Get settled under your real name, the one that everyone knows, and learn the city. If, when, you find them you're going to be ready.