I kick at the sidewalk, the pavement's cracked and dry grass spits through. The sky is overcast and the area is gloomy. Seats and sidewalks are broken, building windows are glazed with thick dirt. There's little happiness here but I find peace and comfort in these abandoned streets.

I crouch over and draw in the dirt. We're generally advised not to sit anywhere and definitely not to touch anything. We, the few friends and families that wander here every couple of years. Sometimes we'll have adventurous tourists, seeking a thrill in the abandoned and nuked zone.

My parents died in here, when the heroes came and blasted through our thinly-veiled paradise. Leaving fallout, destruction and hatred for their kind.

Most of the people moved away, leaving the small town that was destroyed without a second thought. It was easy, a brand new slate. With the money provided for relocation, they bought themselves a new life in the suburbs.

Birdtown, a small, bustling hive for the semi-rural and a secluded tourist destination was completely obliterated in one of the many superhero fights of the age. No ones cried out, there were no protests for resignation, everyone simply packed up and left.

That was, except for me, and my childhood friend, Emma. We stayed, whilst she avoids entering into the streets in fear of the radiation, I live in them. While she stays in our crappy apartment, taking uni course after uni course, studying like a maniac, I'm out drinking my life away and hoping that the thrum of music puts out of mind, the shrill screams and explosions.

I've been diagnosed with a long list of medial occurrences; PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, Insomnia all of those long listed names that I can't pronounce. Emma says I'm wasting my life away on the couch. I tell her that she's doing the same. In the end, we all die, and there's nothing we can do to stop it.

Wow, I am depressing.

I laugh to myself and kick at a bench, my foot bounces back and I continue of my merryless merry way.

Birdtown was a sweet place before it was obliterated. It had a shopping mall, a long streak of new age and souvenir shops selling everything from incense to tye-dyed t-shirts to colourful rocks and homemade brownies. What was in the brownies was a whole different matter.

There was this stunning glass domed church cathedral that had survived from something like the Middle Ages. When I was younger and in the church choir, I sung in there, it was heavenly, the music and the light, so much light, not blinding but enough that one felt that they were in heaven. I close my eyes and dream.

A sharp crack, made me jolt in fear. My instincts fired off three million warnings a second and I scanned around me warily.

A crunch behind me sent me flying around and I had seconds to react as I was pushed to the pavement with a heavy thud. I tired pushing out as I hit the ground, trying to get the assailant off of me. I retched in a breath to scream but his hand covered my mouth. I bunched my legs inwards, readying myself to kick him off but I aimed them a little too high and only cuffed his cheek, sending the hood covering his face flying off.

It was a man with fair, long hair flying around his face, he had a lot of stubble along his chin. I guess he was good-looking with a nicely defined jaw that I'd just kicked at. He looked slightly older than me but was way more buffed up and stronger than I was.

Then I recognised the face. He's Captain America. The biggest American Patriot to ever patriot, out there. A part of being against the Superhero Registration Act. One of the factors that killed this town.

From under his hand covering my mouth, I screamed a wail of rage; a war cry. I wasn't sure why he was here but already, it's personal.

"Please!" He cries, I recognise fear in his eyes, wild, terrible fear, good, he should be scared. "Please. I need help."