I saw Chris Evans while at a bar with a few mates in LA yesterday. He was a few seats away from us drinking alone, letting anyone who passed by take pictures with him, but otherwise ignoring everybody around him. Eventually someone came up to him to get him to sign their T-shirt, and he put on his PR face, got out his sharpie, and went to sign it. He asked them "So I guess you really like Captain America, huh?"
"Huh? No, never watched any of them. I'm a die-hard fan of the original Fantastic Four movie, and its equally good sequel; Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer."
He instantly just froze in place. Everyone at the bar had gone silent at this, even the bartender dropped the glass he was pouring into in shock, spraying a nearby patron with Heineken. Gradually, Evans began trembling, his face growing redder and redder as the veins became more and more pronounced, his hands curling painfully into fists, and his eyes filling with hate. The fan realized what he'd done and tried to get an apology out, but it was too late. Evans lunged at him and began hitting him with a flurry of punches. What initially sounded like cries of anger gradually devolved into a gutteral, animal-like roar of pure hatred. Everyone wanted to help the poor man, but we couldn't do a thing about it. We need Chris Evans a-okay to ensure that the rest of Marvels plans for their brilliant cinematic universe comes to fruition.
Eventually, when it became evident that all he was punching anymore was bits of brain and skull fragments into the hard wood floor, he got up, adjusted his shirt, and walked out, eyeing all of us to ensure we don't tell anyone else about it.