It All Started In A McDonald's...

You're going to get people's hopes up for this chapter. It sounds so promising.

Sorry.

---

So now that I'm a social media karate star and have a job, you'd think I'd be quite busy.

And I am. It's been a couple weeks since we got the job, and neither Peter or I have been fired yet – probably because we're almost always out and about taking photos for the press.

I thought we were basically going out to do paparazzi work, I'm not gonna lie, but it's way more boring. We just get sent to small events around NYC and sit around for four hours or more and awkwardly ask people to pose for a photo at the end.

We did an auction, which was fun to watch, but the Daily Bugle is just the local paper so we don't get sent anywhere special.

"Who the fuck even reads newspapers these days anyway?" I'd muttered under my breath as Terri the escort drove us back after one particularly boring day.

They had an online site too, I think, but still. Just watch the news. More interesting.

"You could be a news presenter," Peter said to me one time. "You'd make things interesting."

I would make a good one, in my opinion. Thing is, I'd probably be very, very biased. Maybe I should work on a debate show instead. Then I'd get paid to argue.

However, apparently I'm not too busy to take on a new case.

No, I'm not taking down Boss-Man-2, even though I want to. Just like he calls Priscilla Janet, he's somehow managed to totally mess my name up. Peter didn't get it too bad – he's Adam, which I think came from me introducing myself when we were in his office and so now he's the singular version of my surname.

But he didn't only mess up my name, but he totally messed up my gender as well. Apparently I'm a guy, and my name is Carl.

We don't know where the fuck it came from. Peter can't think. Priscilla can't. Dad can't. I even mentioned it to Barnes and Loki, and they're just as stumped.

I mean, I guess the way I dress and look isn't particularly feminine, but I don't look particularly masculine either. And where does Carl come from Jamie Adams? But anyway.

No, instead, Loki and I are investigating one of his many crazy theories to save him from the crushing cabin fever he's experiencing.

Turns out, he's been stalking Rogers, because of course he has.

Or, more particularly, he's been doing his level best to find out exactly what he'd been doing regarding that first mission I went on. All thirty-one of the guys we'd found in Central Park all those months ago had finally been put on trial, and I think it was about nineteen of them who were convicted and sentenced to jail for terrorist-related offences.

But that was common knowledge anyway. Loki had wanted to know what Rogers thought about it, since he was being secretive and secretive people are suspicious so naturally you'd want to stalk them to find out what they thought.

In Loki's words. I honestly hadn't spared it a thought since March, or whenever it was.

Barnes had been helping, discreetly. He and Loki must share braincells, I swear to the gods, because they're too fucking similar. Barnes hasn't been stalking Rogers (mostly because he could just ask a question and get a straight answer) but he's been keenly awaiting the news Loki finds out.

And so have I, which is why we're eating our lunch on the roof of the Compound. We know for a fact one of the wind defenders on one of the microphones are absolute shit, having gone on security duty many times, so it's the place we're least likely to get overheard by FRIDAY or any agents.