Ghost

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Powerless is a feeling of a nightmare. That feeling makes you seem as though you might drown in sea of guilt. The feeling of being powerless holds your head under the water and the guilt swims through your lungs. You feel shame because the only thing that you are allowed to do is let the feeling of being powerless slowly kill you.

Steve Rogers knew this first hand.

He was never awake when he was frozen in the bitter ice, but his mind was. The voice in the back of his head screamed for an escape. But he could do nothing in his cold coffin. He could only feel the weight of being powerless crush him. And he hated every second of it. It felt as if he was buried alive and in someways he was the one holding the shovel.

He tried to think of things to keep himself alive but he realized there wasn't a lot. He had no family left, he felt as though he killed his best friend, and Peggy would find someone better. No one cared for Steve Rogers, they only cared for Captain America. Captain America's legend would live but Steve Rogers would not.

His mind felt like it was going insane. Every minute his mind cried and his body remained motionless. The feeling drove him to his never-before-seen breaking point.

Somehow, Steve Rogers survived for 64 years until at last he let go. His mind was done screaming, it had lost its voices. His body had become tried of the preservation. He let go what he had left of his life. Steve Rogers was lifted and so was his guilt. The body that remained in the ice was dead but his spirit was revived to life again. Steve Rogers was dispersed into the Out.

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"Alright you've had enough of a snooze, you've done that for 64 years," a female voice said quickly. She had a schedule to continue with and no way would she allow this hot shot to screw it up.

Steve's vision was fuzzy. All he saw was a brightness that made his eyes and head feel a familiar pain. However, it was better pain that he felt for the longest of time and the last of his time. It took him less than a second to bolt up in panic, fear of where he was or wasn't. His eyes darted around the bright room and only found white, undefined walls and a women. A petite women dressed in a full business suit and a quickness to her character.

"Hey, take a chill pill," the women said. Steve took a closer look at her and realized she was transparent. "That's what the cool kids say now a days." She was faded until she looked as though she blended with the background. But she still had features, curly hair, sharp eyes, maybe 50 years old, and an expression of being unimpressed. She had clothes, and the style of her suit that Steve had never seen before. The women held a clipboard as well, writing things down.

The transparent women noticed him staring. "You're going to have to get a ticket if you want to see the rest of the show." Steve tore his eyes away and stood up from his bed. Well the bed is more of a floating, see-through flat surface you could call it.

"Where am I?" He quickly says, looking more at his surroundings.

The women just laughs. "We are not that far yet, buddy. Steven Grant Rogers, correct?"

"How did you know that? Who are y-"

"I'm Darby Allsopp. Now I just need to ask questions to make sure you are the real deal," she says. Her voice has a rasp to in but in the kind of way that gave her character. Steve nods, for some reason he gets the feeling he can trust her. But that doesn't mean he won't try and see right through her. Figuratively, of course. He has already done that literally. "What is your date of birth?"

"July 4th, 1920," Steve answered. He was no doubt puzzled.

"Parents and causes of death?" Darby asked, more monotone then ever. She asked this question who knows how many times to different people. Of course, Steve was taken back by the question.