Amid the usual commotion, the two steel gunners had officially been reassigned as guards of the Witcher's Tavern.
Two power-armored vehicles were propped upright at the top of the stairs, doubling as both decoration and a quirky feature of the tavern.
Andy didn't linger. After explaining the operation of the Steel Gunners to Whistler and Dr. Ethan, he set off, his mind still swirling with questions.
Why did the assassins he encountered always turn to ashes after death?
It had been the same three years ago, when he stumbled across the hand making a deal with vampires. The assassins seemed almost inhuman—fearless, unwavering, willing to die for their missions. Yet, when Andy swung his formidable sword, they dodged as if something—something they truly feared—loomed over them.
Andy pondered it, but the mystery remained unsolved.
A sudden knock, knock, knock on the car door jolted him from his thoughts. Outside stood a man, handsome and confident, eyes curious yet calm.
Andy rolled down the window. "Sir, can I help you with something?"
The man paused, as if surprised by the automatic window. Then, a warm smile spread across his face. "Hello. Could you tell me where the nearby restaurants are? When I lived here before, it wasn't like this."
The tone was gentle, almost old-fashioned, though his appearance was youthful. Andy didn't dwell on it, instead opening the passenger door. "Hop in. I haven't eaten either. I'll take you somewhere."
The man nodded and slid into the seat. "Thank you. I'm Steve Rogers—just call me Steve."
Andy's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Steve Rogers, huh? Sounds like your parents had high expectations."
The name was iconic, a name known around the world. Steve Rogers—a hero of World War II, a symbol of the American spirit. Andy kept his amusement subtle, letting Steve continue.
Steve chuckled. "Many have mentioned it. Perhaps I should meet the captain who shares my name one day."
Andy drove them to Old Hong's fast food restaurant. Business was bustling, and Lao Hong greeted them with exuberance.
"Oh! Mr. Andy! Welcome! Come, try our best dishes!"
Steve looked pleasantly surprised; such enthusiastic greetings were a novelty to him. He followed Andy into the private room, taking in the smells and sounds of the bustling kitchen.
In the private room, Lao Hong presented several dishes. Eight plates in total—meat and vegetables, vibrant and aromatic. "These are our best. Crab meat lion's head meatballs, braised pork, and stir-fried asparagus. Enjoy."
Steve stared blankly at the chopsticks in his hands, completely unfamiliar. "How do I use these?"
Andy couldn't help but laugh. He demonstrated the proper grip and technique. Steve picked it up surprisingly quickly, managing to lift a piece of braised pork and pop it into his mouth.
The flavors hit him instantly—the richness, the subtle balance, the novelty of the cuisine. His eyes widened. "This… this is incredible. I've never tasted anything like it."
Andy smiled quietly. The dishes were indeed as good as any he had encountered on his travels in China.
After a while, as they sipped tea, Andy asked, "Steve, what do you do now?"
Steve set down his cup, a hint of melancholy on his face. "I was a soldier. Now I'm retired. Mostly I work out, box… keep in shape."
Since waking, he had been focused on recovery, filling his days with training and exercise. Today, he had come out on a whim, exploring this familiar yet unfamiliar world.
Andy nodded silently. He didn't need to confirm anything more—the man was who he suspected. But Steve no longer carried the statue-like presence from the museum; he was more human, approachable.
Steve's gaze drifted to Andy's car, landing on a humanoid battle suit reminiscent of his old armor. Curiosity sparked. "That suit… does it have any special significance?"
Andy smiled. "Just call me Andy. That armor is called Excalibur—Holy Sword. Its power lives up to its name, a weapon of unmatched sharpness."
Steve looked intrigued. "Holy Sword?"
Andy explained, "It's the first armor I made. It turns any sword in my hands into a lethal weapon. Much like your shield, it's a personal symbol, built to protect and fight."
Steve's eyes narrowed in thoughtful understanding. "I see. Makes sense now."
After some discussion, Steve offered a suggestion: the Holy Sword's design could be more distinctive, perhaps with additional accessories, without compromising its combat functionality. Andy considered this for a moment and nodded, quietly appreciating the advice.
For once, the world felt a little smaller, and the past and present merged over a shared meal and mutual understanding.