Steve hadn't missed a day of physical training since coming out of the ice.
"On your left."
Early morning. An innocent, dark-skinned morning jogger heard a nightmare-like voice in his ear. He turned to look and saw a muscular white guy quickly running past him. The Black guy immediately gave chase, but couldn't even see that distinctive American silhouette.
Returning to jogging speed, after running for a while, the Black guy heard the familiar voice again.
"On your left."
"On my left, I got it." The Black guy gritted his teeth with a fake smile. His body was honest as he accelerated, then got left behind again.
Another lap passed, and the sky grew brighter. The relentless white guy emerged from the left. The Black guy was getting frustrated, really frustrated.
"Don't say it! Don't say it anymore!"
The white guy left behind the silhouette of an American backside as he gracefully ran past the Black guy. The Black guy should strive for self-improvement. Instead, he collapsed under a tree, sweating profusely and gasping for breath.
"Need a medic?" Steve emerged without a drop of sweat on his clothes.
"I need new lungs," Sam said with a bitter smile, breathing heavily from running. "You just ran thirteen miles in thirty minutes."
Even though he'd been in the military, he'd never seen performance like that. But for Steve, this was just normal performance. He said matter-of-factly, "If you start late, you've got to run harder."
"Really?" The humble-bragging statement made Sam grit his teeth. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Go run another lap."
Steve appreciated this person—it was mutual respect between soldiers. He asked, "What unit were you with?"
"58th Pararescue, now working at the VA," Sam introduced himself. "Sam Wilson."
"Steve Rogers." Steve helped him up.
Sam wasn't surprised. This face appeared not only in the Captain America museum but also in the news. The Battle of New York had been a huge sensation, and even after more than a year, it remained fresh in memory.
Steve said goodbye to this running buddy he'd just dominated. Coming out of his frozen state, he still needed to slowly adapt to this world. He seemed to have an invisible barrier between himself and this world.
Sam, as a VA worker, immediately recognized Steve's condition. It was very similar to those veterans. He said, "It's the bed, right?"
Steve asked in confusion, "What?"
"Your bed is too soft." Sam could see Steve had many common problems of veterans. "When I was still in service, I slept on the ground. Used rocks as pillows, like a caveman." Sam continued, "Now I'm home, lying in bed, it's like..."
"Lying on a marshmallow." Steve resonated with Sam.
Soldiers had to adapt to all kinds of environments. They didn't have soft beds at all—they might be on floors, wooden boards, or even in trees. Using rocks and wood as pillows for the night. Habit was a terrible thing. Even in harsh environments, suddenly leaving them would feel uncomfortable.
"You must really miss your old life?"
"Actually, it's not bad now," Steve's expression was relieved. "The food is much better. Before it was just boiled food."
The rapid changes—diseases that couldn't be cured before could now be cured, and you could see many things on the internet and learn more. The only flaw was probably that Steve, this old man, still needed to slowly learn to keep up.
Sam recommended an album to him. Steve took out a notebook and seriously wrote it down. His phone rang with a message notification—Steve had a mission to execute.
Steve said goodbye to Sam. Natasha drove up to pick up this old fossil. They went to the mission location together.
A S.H.I.E.L.D. ship had recently been invaded by pirates, with hostages aboard. The pirates were asking for 1.5 billion. Obviously S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't want to pay that money. So Steve would lead people to charge in and take out all twenty-five pirates inside.
Steve performed a high-altitude dive. His superhuman physical condition meant he remained unharmed even falling into water from a great height. Climbing onto the ship from the sea surface, Steve began his performance show.
First choking out an unlucky pirate, then without pause, throwing his shield to take out another. Flying kick to send one person flying, catching the rebounding shield, and taking out another with the shield. Before the pirates could react, he had already dealt with most of the external pirates.
Timid against aliens, brave against pirates. Relying on physics-defying shield tricks and super combat skills, he cut through like entering an empty land.
Natasha also infiltrated, her target being to stop the engines. The S.H.I.E.L.D. strike team was also in action. Not everyone had Steve's strength—their mission was to rescue hostages.
Steve was almost at the main camp. Natasha dealt with the engines. Steve struck at the heart, fighting the pirate leader. Using combat techniques to crash through doors and end the fight.
Very unfortunately, Natasha, who was supposed to be handling engines, was also here, backing up data from the ship. Steve sensed something was wrong. Their mission was clearly to save hostages.
"No, that was your mission." Natasha hit the final enter key, backing up all data.
Steve was very unhappy. During operations, some mistakes could cause the entire operation to fail. Fortunately, the mission was still completed. This hostage rescue was successful, with no additional losses except for one escaped pirate leader.
At S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Steve found Fury to demand answers. Because Natasha's mission didn't match this operation—this was Fury's authorization. Fury had excuses for this.
Steve said, "Soldiers need to trust each other. That's what makes it an army, not just everyone shooting wildly."
Fury said, "Last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye."
The credibility in his words was very complex. The king of spies could lie effortlessly. Fury didn't want to lose Steve, this capable subordinate. He indicated he would share as well.
He took Steve to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s new plan. Project Insight. Three helicarriers no less impressive than S.H.I.E.L.D.'s aircraft carriers. Through satellites and sky carriers for positioning, they could attack anyone in the world. It was designed to 'nip danger in the bud' before threats could materialize. As he said, protecting this world.
But was this true?
"Bad people should be punished after they do bad things." Steve didn't agree with eliminating threats before they acted.
But Fury said, "We can't wait for people to do bad things."
After the New York incident, he convinced the World Security Council to approve this plan. In Steve's view, it was just pointing guns at the whole world, telling them not to move.
"Those dangers, do they include wizards?" Steve stared at Fury. "What about John?"
Fury said silently, "Those dangers would threaten this world."
He didn't say yes or no, but Steve didn't agree with these ideas. Their philosophies were different, and they could only part unhappily.
Fury took out the backup data and inserted it into the computer.
"Open satellite launch records."
The hostage rescue ship had launched a satellite, also part of what Project Insight needed.
"Access denied."
Hearing the computer's unexpected response, Fury frowned.
"Run decryption."
"Decryption failed."
Fury realized something was wrong. "Director override, Nicholas J. Fury, Director."
"Override failed. Files sealed."
Fury looked at this result in surprise—even his own authorization failed?
"By whose order?"
"Nicholas J. Fury."
Fury, who was about to launch Project Insight, smelled conspiracy.
At the Continental Hotel, a guest had arrived. He wore a black suit, his hair neatly combed, walking toward the front desk. The receptionist smiled and asked, "How may I help you, sir?"
The man took out a bloody gold coin and placed it on the desk.
"Weapons. Lots of weapons."
The receptionist looked at the man and saw eyes burning with flames of revenge.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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