Far across the ocean, in the Strategic Scientific Reserve headquarters of the United States, a heated argument was taking place in the office of a commanding officer between a man and a woman.
"Colonel Phillips, I believe Steve should be on the battlefield, not parading around like a trained monkey back home!"
"Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I haven't reported it? Damn it, after Rogers received the Super Soldier Serum, he effortlessly took down ten of our best soldiers. As soon as he recovered, I filed a report listing more reasons than you can even imagine. But the response from the higher-ups? 'We need him more at home.' What do you expect me to do?"
"Those damn bureaucrats! Steve is a soldier, not some propaganda tool! Do you know how many lives we could save if he were on the front lines?"
"I know, but the decision is out of my hands."
"We need a catalyst—something to make them change their minds. Or… a battle with undeniable success."
"Forget it. The higher-ups won't budge."
Knock, knock—
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Come in."
The door was pushed open abruptly, and the figure standing there looked anxious.
"Steve? What are you doing here?"
The man was tall and muscular, his golden hair neatly combed. He was still wearing the star-spangled costume from his latest propaganda event.
This was none other than Steve Rogers, the successful recipient of the Super Soldier Serum. Now a national icon, "Captain America," he had been traveling the country promoting recruitment efforts.
Few people knew that before receiving the serum, Steve had been a frail, short young man who had been rejected from enlisting multiple times.
But today, he had learned something that made him cancel all his engagements and rush back to his old unit to get answers.
"Agent Carter, Colonel Phillips, you're both here—good. There's something I need to confirm."
"Who knows you're here?" Phillips asked seriously.
Steve's current status was highly sensitive. He couldn't just run around unsupervised. As a member of the military, violating orders like this was no small matter.
"I requested leave from the senator."
"Good. Now, what do you want to ask?"
"I heard that Schmidt has deployed a special unit to the Asano front. Out of 200 soldiers from the 107th, fewer than 50 made it back. I need the casualty report."
"You don't have the authority to give me orders, soldier," Phillips said, displeased.
Though he privately admired Steve's courage and kind heart, Steve was still just a soldier, and Phillips was his superior officer.
"I just want to know about Sergeant James Barnes."
At the mention of the name, Phillips glanced at Peggy Carter before sighing.
"So this is the 'catalyst' you were talking about?" he muttered.
Peggy shrugged but didn't deny it. However, this wasn't her doing—she would never use Steve's deepest concern against him.
"Colonel, I just need to know if Bucky is on the list." Steve's eyes pleaded for an answer.
"I signed a lot of condolence letters today… and I remember that name. So… I'm sorry."
Steve froze, then quickly asked, "What about those missing in action? Is there a rescue mission?"
He had heard that many of the unreturned soldiers were missing or captured, giving him a sliver of hope.
"Of course, there is—it's called winning the war." Phillips replied dryly.
"But if you know where they are—"
"I do. They're behind enemy lines, in a heavily guarded facility. A rescue mission would be suicide." He pointed to a location on the map. "I don't blame you for not understanding. You only know how to give speeches and sing."
Steve clenched his fists but held his temper. "I'll understand soon enough."
"Then you're dismissed."
"Yes, sir."
As Steve hurried off, Peggy felt a strong premonition—he was about to do something reckless. She quickly followed.
Phillips watched them leave but didn't stop them. In fact, he almost seemed to approve.
"Maybe… this really is the catalyst."
"Steve! Where are you going?"
"To rescue Bucky." Steve had memorized the map Phillips pointed to. He didn't have a plan, weapons, or backup, but he was determined to go.
"Are you seriously planning to take on HYDRA alone?"
"Do you think I'm just a performer?" Steve asked bitterly, thinking she was trying to stop him.
"No. I just don't think I should stand by and do nothing."
Steve's eyes lit up. "You're coming with me?"
"No, but I'll get you some help." Peggy smirked.
That night, a plane cut through the darkness, heading toward France.
Inside, Peggy spread out a map and a stack of documents, briefing Steve.
"HYDRA's base is near Grenoble, at the foot of the Alps—an industrial facility."
"We'll drop you as close as possible," said Howard Stark, piloting the plane.
A friend of both Steve and Peggy, Stark had agreed without hesitation when they asked for help.
"Thanks, Howard. Just get me close enough."
"You two are diving straight into hell."
"So are you."
"If someone spots me, I'll shoot."
"They'll shoot back."
"Then let's hope this thing does its job," Steve said, tapping his shield.
"Agent Carter, if we're not in a rush, how about a dinner in Lucerne?" Howard joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Neither of them responded, making things awkward.
"Howard is the best civilian pilot we've got. It takes guts to fly into enemy airspace." Peggy continued, ignoring his attempt at humor.
Steve, unfortunately, lacked social finesse.
"So… you two… did you have dinner?"
Peggy rolled her eyes. "Here's your radio. Activate it when you're ready, and we'll track your signal."
Steve realized his blunder and quickly changed the subject. "Howard, is this thing reliable?"
"Hey, I built it. More reliable than you, buddy."
Just then—BOOM! Anti-aircraft fire exploded outside, shaking the plane.
"Steve, wait! We can get you in closer!" Peggy shouted as he prepared to jump.
"Once I'm out, get the hell out of here!"
"You don't give orders!"
"Why not? I'm 'Captain'!"
With that, Steve leaped into the night. Peggy could only watch anxiously as his silhouette vanished into the darkness.
Navigating the woods, Steve approached the enemy facility.
"God, I hope this works."
He was scared—it was his first real mission. But fear wouldn't stop him.
As he crept forward, a voice startled him.
"The God you're praying to—is it Jehovah? Are you a believer?"
"Who's there!?"
Before he could react, he was slammed to the ground, unable to move.
"Relax, pal. I'm not with HYDRA. And I don't like having guns pointed at me. Makes me want to punch something."
"Who are you?"
"Let's make a deal—I let you go, and you don't point that gun at me."
Steve hesitated, then agreed. "Deal."
As he stood up, shield raised, he finally saw his opponent's face.
A young man smirked. "Buddy, your shield and fists won't do much against me. Better put 'em down."