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The Fox News anchor was delivering the bulletin with a grave face:
"…We interrupt this program for breaking news."
"Alexander Pierce, former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and current Secretary-General of the World Security Council, has just held a press conference in Washington."
The feed cut to the press hall of the Triskelion Building.
Pierce stood at the podium, face heavy with sorrow, a huge screen behind him playing a video.
It showed Steve Rogers attacking Agents inside an elevator.
"It grieves me to announce," Pierce said, voice leaden, "that the hero we've always looked up to—Captain America, Steve Rogers—has betrayed us."
Gasps rippled through the room.
"During an internal audit S.H.I.E.L.D. uncovered a top-secret file. The file reveals that as early as World War II, after Captain Rogers plunged into the Arctic, a HYDRA cell secretly captured him and subjected him to decades of brainwashing."
"The so-called 'freezing' was nothing but a lie to hide the truth!"
Forged documents and photos flashed on-screen: Captain America lying in a HYDRA lab, tubes snaking into his body.
"Nick Fury, the current Director, is the mastermind. He is the highest-placed HYDRA mole inside S.H.I.E.L.D. It was he who reactivated the 'HYDRA-Captain,' intending to use him to overthrow World peace and seize power!"
BOOM—
The story detonated across the airwaves.
Captain America is HYDRA?
That sounded even crazier than the President of the United States being a spy on Red Square.
Yet the evidence—and the words of the former S.H.I.E.L.D. Director, now Council Secretary—planted seeds of doubt.
"Therefore," Pierce declared, voice ringing with righteous authority, "in the name of the World Security Council, I am issuing a global arrest warrant!"
"Wanted: Steve Rogers! Wanted: Nick Fury!"
"They are extremely dangerous Terrorists…"
Click!
Steve switched off the TV.
No anger—only a deep weariness.
"Captain- HYDRA…" Steve gave a bitter smile.
"Pierce, you've really outdone yourself to ruin me."
Now he was public enemy number one—unfortunate for someone whose face was known coast to coast.
Wee-ooo-wee-ooo—
Sirens shrieked outside the V.G.D Base.
Steve walked to the window.
More than twenty black armored trucks, lightbars flashing, were parked at the gate.
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s rapid-response unit and FBI tactical teams.
A quinjet hovered overhead, engines droning.
"Attention inside! Have the HYDRA-Captain, Steve Rogers, come out with hands raised—now!"
Rumlow, one arm in a sling, bullhorn in the other, stood atop an armored vehicle, looking cocky.
"If you refuse, Vought will be charged with harboring an international terrorist. We will enter by force and make arrests!"
The instant he finished, hail, hurricanes, lightning, acid—attacks of every color—sent him scurrying two hundred meters in retreat.
Steve watched and sighed.
He didn't want to drag Vought into this; it was his war with HYDRA.
He straightened his uniform, picked up his shield, and headed for the door.
"Where do you think you're going, Captain?"
A voice stopped him.
Ashley stood calmly in the middle of the corridor.
"Mr. Rogers, did you forget you're still VGD's head instructor? Your contract isn't up; leaving without permission incurs a penalty."
"Ashley…" Steve forced a smile.
"This isn't the time for jokes. They say I'm HYDRA—every nation on Earth wants me."
"So what?"
Ashley gave a cold laugh.
"If they say you're HYDRA, you are? If tomorrow they crown me Queen of Britain, do I move into Buckingham Palace?"
Steve frowned. "I can't involve you all."
"Involve?"
Ashley smiled as if it were nothing.
"Captain, do you have the wrong idea about Vought?"
"We're Vought International. Our market cap now exceeds Boeing's, and our boss is Homelander—the man who slams aliens into volcanoes."
"You think we're scared of that trash outside?"
She stepped forward and slapped a file against Steve's chest.
"What's this?" Steve blinked.
"A new contract," Ashley said. "And a letter Mr. Starr left for you."
"He said if you ever hit a 'political speed-bump,' sign it."
Steve froze.
Left by Homelander?
He tore the envelope open.
Inside was a single sheet of paper covered in messy handwriting.
"To the veteran still finding his way:
Hey, Steve.
By the time you read this, you've probably been stabbed in the back by that self-important spook-shop.
Doesn't surprise me.
I told you—place is rotten to the core, can't be fixed.
None of that matters.
What matters is I get what's going on inside your head.
You think you're obsolete—a relic of the last century, that your morals are a joke today.
But I'm telling you, that's bull.
Colors fade, flags change, even the star-count on Old Glory shifts.
But some things don't.
Courage. Sacrifice. The guts to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth and tell the whole World: 'No, you move.'
I keep saying I'm no real hero—Steve, you are.
Vought doesn't need a hired hand with a shield.
We need a soul.
Someone to tell every lost kid that power isn't for showing off—it's for protecting.
We don't need Captain America, Captain White House, or Captain S.H.I.E.L.D.
We need… the People's Captain.
Sign the damn contract, Steve.
Fight side by side with me, veteran.
—Anthony Starr"
Steve's hand trembled.
Since waking in the Arctic he'd been a stranger—S.H.I.E.L.D. a job, the Avengers friends, but he'd never belonged.
And now…
"He… he saw this coming?" Steve's eyes misted.
"The boss always sees one step farther." Ashley offered a fountain pen.
"Sign, Captain. Once you do you're a registered hero of V.D.G., protected under the Superhero Registration Act. Arresting you takes a special presidential order—and President Ellis is an old friend of ours."
Steve drew a slow breath.
He took the pen and, at the bottom of the contract, signed his name with care.
"Excellent."
Ashley tucked the contract away, a victorious smile on her face.
She flipped open a compact, checked her makeup, then turned toward the door.
"Now I'll go swat those annoying flies outside."
"And then I'll give you your good name back."
…