It's been almost two and a half months since Battle New York and I had to switch gyms. It sounds rather less important when placed in the same sentence as an alien invasion. But it is inconvenient. I've been going to the same gym for the same self-defense classes ever since I moved to New York six months ago. I don't like change. It gives me hives.

My previous instructor, who was a great teacher, moved to Indiana. No idea why. The new instructor is a lot younger and a lot more obnoxious. He's a complete know-it-all, and maybe he does know it all, but it's beyond annoying. And I can't be under the tutelage of someone I can't respect. So I decided to go gym shopping.

My old gym was just the first place I had found that offered decent self-defense classes. It was close to the library and the class I was interested in began after I was off of work. This new gym that I'm going to try is much closer to my apartment and the class is a little later at night. This means I can just walk there after I've gotten home from work and had something to eat. It's actually a bit more convenient- wait, no, change is gross. I stand by that.

Tonight is my first time there and it's not bad. The people are friendly but not talkative. The instructor is knowledgeable and tolerable. The information is consistent with what I've been learning, but it also has new things. I was stiff and uncomfortable at the beginning, but now, by the end of class, I've loosened up and spoken with a few people.

Feeling especially brave, I've decided to stay a bit later and talk with the instructor. Just to get an idea of who he is and what he wants for the class. I've spent about ten minutes with him and I've made my decision. I'll give it a try. I think I'll like it.

When I move to gather my wallet and sweatshirt from the corner of the room, I see a familiar face. Or rather, a familiar face sees me.

"Anne? Do you come here often?"

My laugh escapes before I can stop it. "Steve, did you just use a pick up line on me?"

He blushes. Legit. Blushes. It's the cutest thing. "I-I meant, I haven't seen you here before." He tugs on his gray t-shirt.

"I'm looking into one of their classes," I explain with a smile of amusement still plastered across my face.

Steve shifts to rest his hands on his hips. "Oh! That's great! Which one? Have you already finished for the night?"

"Yeah, I was just about to walk home," I shrug my wallet and sweatshirt as evidence.

"How'd you like it?" he asks, crossing his arms.

My face splits into another grin. "The class or your pick up line?"

'Score! He's blushing again.'

"I'm just teasing you," I pat his arm. "I actually really enjoyed it. I think I'll probably stick with it for a month or so to make sure, but I'll probably stay here long term."

He drops his hands to his sides. 

'Does he have ants in his pants? Why is he so fidgety?'

"Well now that I know, I'd be glad to walk with you on the nights you have class." He gives a genuine smile and my heart melts a bit.

"Thank you Steve, but I wouldn't want to mess up your schedule."

"Don't worry about it. Giving me the chance to spend time with a beautiful lady, I should be thanking you." This time his smile is a smirk. I didn't think he could smirk.

I'm a bit flabbergasted before I say, "that was definitely a pick up line!" We both chuckle.

"Maybe Stark is rubbing off on me," he says with a grin.

That catches me off guard. He never talks about that part of his life. "Let's hope not." I smile. "Well, I should get going and leave you to your...training?" I'm not sure exactly what he does when he comes here.

"Would you like me to walk you home?"

"No, no. You just got here. Besides, it's just a couple blocks away, I'll be fine this one time." I'm tempted to add, 'what's the worst that could happen', but I've seen too many movies for that. Steve still looks unsure so I say, "how about I text you when I get home?"

This seems to satisfy his protective nature and he nods. "All right."

"Night Stevie, see you tomorrow for movie night!"

"Good night Anne."

I throw my sweatshirt on and tuck my wallet in my pocket. I didn't bother bringing my purse because it's bulky and I'm lazy. I've made it about two blocks when I hear scuffling and a raised voice coming from an alley to my left. Carefully, I take a peek to find out if I can see anything.

In the shadows by the dumpster are two men. One is upset, the other is terrified. The first man has the second backed against the wall. He's not yelling, but the anger in his words is clear. He's demanding a wallet or something. The other man doesn't give it to him. There's a flash of reflected light and I see that the first man has pulled a knife.

I immediately grab for my phone in my sweatshirt pocket to call the police. My phone isn't there. I must've left it at the gym.

The man against the wall shakily shoves his wallet at the guy with the knife, but it's too late. Knife Guy is clearly no longer only interested in money. I need to do something quickly. I jog towards them.

"Hey, did you guys see last week's episode of 'The Walking Dead'? Crazy, right?" Okay, I think we all know by now that icebreakers aren't my thing.

"Who are you?" Knife Guy asks angrily.

"I'm Anne, nice to meet you." I hold out my hand, hoping he may forget he has a knife and drop it to shake my hand. He doesn't.

'I've never tried to rescue anyone before, cut me some slack!'

"Give me your money!" he turns the knife on me but keeps an eye on the guy that's still against the wall.

"Okay." First rule of being mugged: it's only money. It isn't worth your life.

I take my wallet out of my pocket and toss it away from the three of us, further into the alley. If he wants it, he can go get it and give us an opportunity to run. Unfortunately, this seems to have angered him further.

He growls and lunges at me, sweeping the knife first to the left then the right. My five years of training kicks in. I jump backwards out of the way of the first swipe but as he brings the knife to the right I jump towards him, stopping only a few inches from his chest. I block the motion of his arm with both of my forearms. My left hand grabs his right hand that holds the knife while I strike his nose with my right elbow.

The resounding crunch is basely satisfying.

I draw my fist back and send it down to his groin. His knees buckle as he howls, but he's still gripping the knife. I grab his right hand with both of mine, twisting his arm around and locking out his elbow. He's still fighting me, trying to slash my arms as I hold him. So I snap a kick to his temple and he's out cold. I, none too gently, let him fall face down on the ground with his right arm straight out from his shoulder. I kneel on his arm with my knees on either side of the back of his elbow, effectively keeping him from getting up or moving his upper body should he awaken. I've never knocked anyone out before and I'm not sure how long he'll stay out.

His grip on the knife is nonexistent so I take it from him and toss it away out of his reach. My heart is pounding even though that didn't take much effort.

"Do you have a phone?" I call to the second guy, only to realize that he had run off as soon as Knife Guy started slashing. "How chivalrous." I look down at Knife Guy and see that his nose is bleeding like a faucet. If faucets poured blood instead of water. Okay. That's disgusting. "That's what happens when you steal and try to kill people. I hope you've learned a lesson. Now, do you have a phone?"

'Boy, adrenaline sure is a confidence booster!'

I awkwardly pat his back pockets, but they're empty. No way am I turning him over to check his front pockets. Can you imagine if he woke up to that? *shudder* Awwwwwwkwaaaaaaaard.

"Hello?" I call out, hoping someone will hear me. "Can someone help me please? Hello?!" Quick footsteps sound from around the corner and I really hope it isn't one of Knife Guy's friends.

But – dun dun du-duh! (that's triumphant music, by the way) It's Steve! "You're a bit late to save the day!"

He jogs up to me and takes in the situation. "Anne, what- what are you doing? Who's that?"

"How rude of me." I say flatly. "Steve, Knife Guy. Knife Guy, Steve. Say Steve, would you mind calling the police? This guy tried to relieve me of some of my organs after taking some guy's wallet and my own."

'Apparently adrenaline also makes me a bit sassy.'

Steve clenches his jaw, hopefully mad at Knife Guy and not at me, before quickly pulling out my phone and- "Oh, you brought my phone!"

He only nods because he's now speaking with Emergency Services. He explains what happened, well, essentially, and gives them our location before hanging up. Taking another step towards me and crossing his arms, Steve asks, "would you like to get up or are you comfortable there?"

'Is he being snarky? They grow up so fast...'

"I don't know. I quite like the view from down here," I say as I smirk up at his imposing figure.

'Did I just flirt with Steve?...there must be some chemical pollutant in the water at the apartment that's affecting our personalities...yeah, that's the only explanation.'

We're both surprised by what I've just said, but Steve recovers first and offers me a hand up. I take it without looking him in the eye.

'That was just weird. Why do I feel so weird? Am I in shock? That's a thing that happens, right? Do people in shock know when they're in shock?'

I must've stood too quickly because I feel really dizzy. I hold on to Steve's hand a moment longer to stabilize myself before drawing back as I realize something. "Eww. Steve, why is your hand all wet? You know what, I don't wanna know..."

"It's wet because your hand is wet." Steve turns his shoulders to let some light from a street lamp shine on my slick hand.

"Eww. Is that blood? Is that, my blood?"

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A/N: Cliffhanger? Tiny bit? More of stephanger, maybe?

So, this was my first attempt at an action scene. I hope it was clear enough what was going on and that Anne being able to kick bad guy butt isn't too out of left field. I tried to keep the moves very basic. Also, I once again couldn't find an appropriate gif for this chapter (although I didn't try very hard after I found the current gif) so please enjoy Chris Evans being adorable.

Look at his face. Look at it. It's stupid how cute he is. Pretty sure he's actually four.