For better or for worse it seemed that Steve had been somewhat forced to move back into the tower. Once the residents had vanished and things had settled somewhat, he had returned to the new apartment he'd had in the warehouse. All things being what they were, very little in the apartment had actually belonged to him, and so when the people and their belongings vanished, so did most of the things in the apartment. That was a shame, he'd really liked the solitude and the quiet.
What little remained that did belong to him were clothes found where his dresser used to be, and a dog tag where a small table once stood. It had belonged to Peggy, but upon closer inspection it was his own tag. This world had a great way of sending a message.
With the dog tag restored and the clothing packed carefully into the satchels on his motorcycle, Steve left the warehouse for the last time. Maybe one day he'd return, but it was doubtful.
As he road the quiet streets he saw an unfamiliar figure, an armored figure with all the bearing of a well trained man. A man he hadn't met yet, but that could be fixed immediately. Steve turned his bike and approached so the man could take stock of what image Steve presented, his helmet military issue, his leather coat combined with his army fatigues and boots revealing that he too had a military past. One which he still kept, to some degree.
Upon closer inspection the man looked like someone whose picture he'd seen on the network recently, and he nodded at the man as he turned off the bike and sat back, hands on his legs. "Taking the scenic tour, or looking for someone?" he asked, because it's always possible that he was interrupting the man.