As shapeshifting invaders infiltrate Earth's leadership, Sam Wilson uncovers a buried conspiracy. Trust shatters, allies fall, and war brews forcing fractured heroes to rise before the invasion claims the world from within.
Prosit Ray
Based on Marvel Comics
DISCLAIMER:
This screenplay is a non-commercial, transformative fan work based on characters and elements owned by Marvel Studios and The Walt Disney Company.
All rights to original characters, dialogue, plot structure, and story development within this script belong to the author.
This work is intended for creative display and tribute purposes only.
No copyright infringement is intended.
INT. MUSEUM – DAY
A cool breeze flows through the National Mall. Security lines stretch. Journalists cluster around barricades. News vans idle nearby. A small podium stands before a freshly installed glass exhibit the Captain America shield, gleaming beneath museum lights.
CAMERA FLASHES strobe as SAM WILSON steps up to the microphone in a slim-cut formal suit, his face calm but conflicted. Standing at a distance, almost unseen in the crowd, is James Rhodes "Rhodey", arms folded, his eyes heavy with doubt and sorrow.
Sam clears his throat. The crowd hushes.
SAM WILSON (public speech):
"It's strange... standing here without him."
"The world feels off-balance. Steve believed we should move on. And maybe he was right."
"But for some of us, moving on doesn't mean forgetting."(beat)
"It is more than just a shield. It's memory. Responsibility. A reminder of what we lost and what we still owe to each other."
"Steve's shield belongs to all of us now. But it doesn't belong in my hands."
"Not yet."
There's a somber applause. Reporters yell out questions. Sam steps down, avoiding cameras. He walks around the building's side toward a parked government vehicle.
RHODEY is waiting there, arms still crossed. He gives a faint nod.
RHODEY:
"You know he chose you, right?"
SAM(quietly):
"Yeah."
(looks away)
"That's what makes it harder."
RHODEY:
"It looked good in your hands."
Sam smiles, but it fades fast.
SAM:
"It looks good... but it feels heavy."
RHODEY(studying him):
"You're not running from it, are you?"
SAM(beat):
"I'm just making sure I'm not walking into something I don't understand."
The camera lingers on Rhodey's face just slightly… off. Still. Reflective. Almost too still. His jaw tightens.
SAM(O.S.):
"You okay?"
RHODEY(softly):
"Yeah. Just… thinking."
He watches the crowd circle around the shield through the glass. His reflection stares back at him and for just a flash, it's not his.
CUT TO BLACK.
INT. ABANDONED INDUSTRIAL ZONE – NIGHT
A cold wind cuts through the skeletal remains of an old shipping warehouse, long abandoned by humans. Now, it's something else a makeshift sanctuary, dimly lit with salvaged power sources.
Inside, the cavernous structure has been of rusted sheet metal and tarp divide the space into living pods. Skrull children sit in circles, learning from digital tablets. A few elders tend to alien crops growing under UV lights made from broken drones.
Laughter echoes. It's a home, fragile but alive.
TALOS enters, coat dusted from travel, eyes weary but proud. He walks past smiling faces, receives gentle nods.
TALOS(V.O.)
"There was a time we had nothing. No home. No future.
Nick Fury… he gave us this. Not perfect not freedom but a place.
He didn't have to. But he did.
We owe him."
Talos stops in front of a comm panel, begins recording a message. But he's interrupted by a bloodied SKRULL, stumbling in, gasping.
INJURED SKRULL
"Base Two… is compromised."
Talos rushes to him.
TALOS
"Who did this?"
INJURED SKRULL
"Gravik. He's… turned most of Base 2 they're not hiding anymore. They're preparing."
TALOS
"Gravik? He betrayed us… just like that?"
INJURED SKRULL
"No. He's been planning. For years.
He mentioned… something new.
'Intelligentsia.' I don't know what she is but they are coming."
Talos clenches his jaw, voice low.
TALOS
"So it begins."
He looks out over the refugee camp a place of hope. A place now in danger.
INT. CITYBACKSTREET – NIGHT
Overlay of online headlines, shaky street videos, news broadcasts play over eerie music:
"The Forgotten: Those Left Behind After the Blip"
"The Hand Rises Again, Feeding the Voiceless"
"Returned Citizens Reclaiming Homes, But at What Cost?"
Clips of The Hand masked vigilantes in the alleys of cities, handing out food, defending squatters, standing guard outside shelters being cleared by police.
NARRATOR(V.O.) – News Host:
"Once a shadow cult, The Hand now walks among the the hungry. Defending the displaced.
But the question remains saviors or opportunists?"
INT. GAMBLING CLUB – NIGHT
An opulent room filled with cigars, liquor, and dark deals. Everything smells expensive and rotten.
Everett Ross enters, sharp suit, sharp eyes. He's met by The Hand's masked leader, flanked by two guards.
THE HAND LEADER (low, calm):
"You brought what we asked for?"
Ross gestures. Five briefcases are opened, lined with currency and tech.
ROSS:
"Five full payloads. You win."
He pauses.
ROSS(quiet, cold):
"You know… we could've crushed you. Just leveled the whole building. But we had more important things to fix."
THE HAND LEADER:
"And we had more important reasons to rise."
Ross frowns.
ROSS:
"All this… for money?"
THE HAND LEADER (removing mask halfway):
"No. That's survival."
SUDDENLY GUNSHOTS.
Chaos erupts. People scream. Guards collapse to the floor. Lights flicker.
Out of the shadows, a blur tactical, brutal, silent:
THE WINTER SOLDIER.
He moves like a ghost. One guard goes down with a shattered jaw elbow strike, knee to the throat.
He flips over the poker table, using it as cover, slides behind Ross.
ROSS(stunned):
"Wha Bucky?!"
Too late.
The imposter grabs Ross by the neck, lifts him one-handed. Slams his head once twice three times into the gambling monitor, shattering it in sparks and glass.
Ross goes limp, blood trailing down his face. Before The Hand can react he's gone. Vanished.
EXT. PARKING LOT – MINUTES LATER
By standers outside film the scene.
"That's the Winter Soldier! I saw him he just killed Agent Ross!"
Phones light up. Live streamers. Screaming. Sirens.
And just like that the symbol of mistrust is planted.