"Captain?"
Ashley stepped forward and handed Steve a compact black device.
"Mr. Starr left this for you earlier. He said… if you're going to see an old friend, this might come in handy."
The device was no larger than a fingernail.
"What is it?" Steve asked.
"A universal decoder," Ashley lowered her voice. "A new Vought prototype. In theory, it can rewrite the base logic of most electronic locks. And if things go sideways—"
She paused.
"—it can also function as a localized EMP."
Steve studied the tiny machine for a moment, then slipped it into his pocket.
"Thanks."
-----
Washington, D.C. — The Triskelion
Steve arrived on his motorcycle, still wearing his unmistakable uniform.
Once inside S.H.I.E.L.D., no one stopped him.
After all—he was Steve Rogers.
"Captain Rogers."
The elevator doors slid open. Inside stood Brock Rumlow, a faint, unreadable smile on his face.
"Long time no see. Looking for the Director?"
Steve nodded as he stepped in.
"Is he here?"
"You know how it is," Rumlow said casually, pressing the button for him. "The Director's always busy. But you're lucky—he just got back."
The elevator began its ascent.
The cramped space felt heavy.
Steve stood with his hands behind his back, eyes forward. Still, he could feel it—Rumlow's hand hovering near his holster the entire time.
"How's work been lately, Rumlow?" Steve asked suddenly.
"Not bad," Rumlow shrugged. "Cleaning up after Vought's celebrities, keeping the streets calm. You know—odd jobs."
"Good," Steve glanced at him. "Just remember who you work for."
Rumlow smiled. "Peace."
Ding.
The doors opened.
Steve stepped out without looking back.
Behind him, Rumlow's smile vanished, his eyes turning cold.
-----
Director's Office
The massive floor-to-ceiling windows should've framed a familiar sight—
a bald man in a black coat, standing with quiet authority.
Instead, the office was empty.
"Fury?" Steve frowned.
"Captain."
The voice came from behind him.
Steve turned.
Not Nick Fury.
It was Alexander Pierce.
"Pierce?" Steve frowned. "I thought Fury would be here."
"Nick?" Pierce removed his glasses, wiping them calmly. "He's been very busy lately. Handling some… delicate personal matters."
"Personal matters?"
"You know how spies are," Pierce smiled faintly. "Always secrets."
He stepped closer.
"What can I do for you, Captain?"
"I'm here for a file," Steve said evenly. "The Winter Soldier."
Pierce's eyelid twitched—just for a fraction of a second.
"I saw him," Steve continued. "Chicago. Metal arm. Military-grade combat training."
Pierce's smile slowly faded.
He turned to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a whiskey.
"Captain," he said without turning around, "sometimes it's better to let the past stay buried. For everyone's sake."
"I just want the truth."
"The truth," Pierce replied quietly, "is often ugly. And dangerous."
He took a sip.
"Perhaps you should wait for Fury to return. He might tell you what you want to know."
"Where is he?"
"I told you. Personal business."
"Is that so?"
Steve looked at Pierce, then smiled faintly.
"That's strange."
Pierce paused.
"Before I came here," Steve continued calmly, "Fury contacted me via an encrypted channel."
A lie.
Antony had taught him well—when you lie, look them in the eyes.
"He said if I ever couldn't find him, I should go to Sublevel 12 of the archives. He left me a… gift."
"Oh?" Pierce's expression remained neutral. "If that's Nick's instruction, feel free. Assuming you have the clearance."
"I do," Steve smiled. "Of course I do."
He turned and left.
Ding.
The elevator doors opened.
Steve stepped inside and pressed the button for the lobby.
The moment the doors closed, he pulled the decoder from his pocket and slapped it onto the control panel.
Target override: Sublevel 12 — Archives.
At the same time, Pierce picked up his phone.
"He knows," Pierce said quietly.
"Don't let him leave."
-----
The Elevator
The lift began descending.
Steve exhaled slowly. Antony's gadget really was something.
Then—
Ding.
The doors opened.
Rumlow stepped in, flanked by four heavily built operatives in tactical vests. Every one of them kept a hand near their weapon.
"Captain," Rumlow nodded with a forced smile. "Mind if we hitch a ride?"
Steve nodded and shifted to the corner.
The elevator resumed its descent.
Ding.
Another stop.
Five more agents squeezed inside.
The small cabin became suffocatingly crowded.
Steve observed them quietly.
No one met his eyes.
But every muscle was tense.
Hands inched toward batons, cuffs, sidearms.
No one pressed a floor button.
Steve calculated.
Ten men.
Left side—stun device.
Right—unknown equipment case.
Rumlow's hand never left his holster.
Steve lowered his gaze to the floor.
Then sighed softly.
"Before we start…"
He lifted his head, his expression calm, battle-ready.
"…does anyone else want to step out?"
"NOW!" Rumlow roared.
Two agents lunged with electromagnetic restraints, snapping toward Steve's wrists.
Another thrust a high-voltage stun baton for his side.
Steve didn't resist.
He simply pressed a button on the black device in his hand.
ZZZ—CRACK!!!
A shrill electrical scream detonated inside the elevator.
POP! CLACK!
The magnetic cuffs short-circuited instantly, clattering uselessly to the floor.
The stun baton went dead—nothing more than a stick.
Even Rumlow's earpiece shrieked violently before cutting out, making him howl in pain.
"My ears—!"
"What the hell?!"
In the heartbeat of chaos—
Steve moved.
The shield rose.
And the elevator became a battlefield.
--------------
T/N:
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