The command tent buzzed with activity as officers coordinated supply lines, casualty reports, and tactical assessments. At the center of it all sat Colonel Phillips, signing a stack of letters with mechanical precision. Each signature was another family that would receive news no parent or spouse ever wanted to hear.
Steve pushed through the tent flaps with the entire group close behind him, his urgency overriding military protocol. Phillips looked up from his paperwork with the expression of a man who'd been expecting this interruption and dreading it in equal measure. His eyes swept over the unusual assembly: Captain Rogers in his stage costume, Agent Carter, and four individuals he didn't immediately recognize.
"Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan," Phillips said dryly, setting down his pen. "What's your plan today? And who exactly are your friends here?"
"Captain Trevor reporting for debriefing, sir," Trevor stepped forward, snapping to attention. "As ordered. I have urgent intelligence regarding HYDRA operations in the Balkans, specifically concerning the Ultra-Humanite's facility."
Phillips' demeanor shifted immediately, his attention sharpening. "Trevor. About damn time. I've been waiting three days for your report." He gestured to a chair near his desk. "Your mission was classified at the highest levels. Why are you bringing half of Italy into my command tent?"
"These individuals were instrumental in my extraction, sir," Trevor replied crisply. "They possess firsthand intelligence about HYDRA capabilities that could prove crucial to ongoing operations."
Phillips studied the group more carefully. "And they are?"
"Captain Nikolas Aquinas," Orion introduced himself with a slight bow. "Maritime transport. My family's shipping business operates throughout the Mediterranean."
"Diana Prince, Mala Prince," Trevor continued quickly. "Greek nationals. Their family estates were overrun by HYDRA forces."
Phillips waved a dismissive hand. "Fine, fine. We'll sort out the paperwork later." He fixed Trevor with a hard stare. "What did you find at the Ultra-Humanite's facility?"
"A research complex unlike anything we've encountered, sir," Trevor replied, his voice tight with remembered horror. "They're not just developing weapons. They're trying to unlock cosmic forces, power sources that could reshape reality itself. I documented everything I could before the facility was attacked."
"Attacked by whom?"
"HYDRA forces, sir. There's conflict within their organization. The Ultra-Humanite's research was being taken over by a faction led by someone called the Red Skull."
Phillips absorbed this with grim satisfaction. "Internal conflict. Good." He turned his attention to Steve, who had been growing increasingly agitated. "Rogers, you look like you've got something to say."
Steve stepped forward, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion. "I need the casualty list from Azzano, sir."
Phillips pointed to the insignia on his collar. "You don't get to give me orders, son."
"Please, sir. Just one name," Steve pressed, his hands clenching into fists. "Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th."
Phillips turned his attention to Peggy, his expression darkening. "Carter, you and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won't enjoy."
Steve's voice cracked slightly. "Please, sir. Just tell me if he's alive. B-A-R..."
"I can spell," Phillips interrupted sharply. He reached for a longer list of names on his desk, his finger tracing down the page. "Barnes... Sergeant James Barnes. Captured, presumed alive."
Relief flooded through Steve, but as Phillips set the list down, Steve's eyes caught sight of other familiar names on the page. His face went white as he read them upside down.
"Parker, Peter... Knight, Theodore..." Steve's voice was barely a whisper. "No. No, they can't be—" He looked up at Phillips with desperate eyes. "Sir, those other names on the list. Peter Parker and Ted Knight. Please tell me they're not..."
Phillips glanced down at the list, his expression grim. "Private Parker and Lieutenant Knight, Signal Corps. Both captured along with Barnes' unit."
Steve felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. "Peter and Ted... they were there too. They were all together." His voice broke completely. "Jesus, they're all in that hell because I wasn't there with them."
"For now," Phillips said coldly. "But that doesn't change the tactical situation."
"What about the others?" Steve asked, his voice growing stronger with each word, fueled by a desperate fury. "The rest of the captured men. Are you planning a rescue?"
"Yes," Phillips replied with icy precision. "It's called 'winning the war.'"
Steve's eyes blazed. "That's not good enough, sir. Those men—"
"Rogers..."
"No!" Steve's voice cut through the tent like a whip crack. "I've spent months dancing on stages while men like Bucky, like Peter and Ted—guys I trained with, guys I should be fighting alongside—they've been out here bleeding and dying. And now you're telling me we're just going to abandon them?"
Phillips stood slowly, his voice dangerous. "You think this is about friendship? This is war, Rogers. I don't have the luxury of sentiment."
Diana had been listening with growing outrage, and now she stepped forward, her diplomatic composure finally cracking. "Sentiment? You call loyalty to one's brothers in arms mere sentiment?"
"Miss, this is a military discussion—"
"This is about honor!" Diana's voice rang with authority that made several officers straighten involuntarily. "Where I come from, we have a saying: 'No Amazon left behind.' It doesn't matter the odds, it doesn't matter the cost. You do not abandon your people to the enemy."
Mala's voice was deadly quiet. "I have seen many commanders in my time, Colonel. The ones who calculate only in numbers and forget they're dealing with human lives... they're the ones who lose wars."
Phillips' face went red, his patience finally snapping. "That's ENOUGH!" He shot to his feet, his voice thundering through the tent. "Trevor! Get these women out of my command tent NOW! I will not be lectured about military strategy by civilians who have no understanding of what war actually means!"
Diana opened her mouth to respond, but Trevor quickly stepped forward, his diplomatic training kicking in. "Sir, they have valuable intelligence—"
"I don't care if they have Hitler's diary!" Phillips roared. "I will not tolerate insubordination in my own command tent from people who aren't even in my chain of command! Get them out!"
Orion placed a calming hand on Diana's arm as she bristled with indignation. "Perhaps we should allow the Colonel to conduct his business," he said diplomatically, though his eyes held a dangerous glint.
"You're making a mistake," Diana said coldly as Trevor began ushering them toward the tent flaps.
"The mistake would be taking military advice from someone in a dress," Phillips snapped back.
As they filed out, the tent fell into tense silence. Phillips remained standing, his chest heaving with anger, until the sound of their footsteps faded. Then he turned his furious gaze on Steve.
"Now then, Rogers. Without the peanut gallery offering their opinions..."
Steve's voice, when it came, was deadly quiet. "You're right, sir. This is real war. And in real war, you don't leave men behind." His voice grew stronger, more passionate. "Bucky Barnes has been watching my back since we were twelve years old. He's saved my life more times than I can count. Peter Parker and Ted Knight... I met them at the Stark Expo. When everyone else was telling me to give up trying to enlist, when doctors were laughing me out of recruitment offices, they believed in me. They thought what I was trying to do mattered."
The tent had gone completely silent. Even the staff officers had stopped their work to listen.
Steve continued, his voice breaking with emotion. "Peter helped me fill out my fifth enlistment form. Ted talked to me for hours about how science could change the war, how guys like us could make a difference even if we weren't the biggest or the strongest. And then I got chosen for the super-soldier program. I got the serum, I got the enhanced body, I got the shield—and what did I do with it? I put on a costume and sold war bonds while they went to war."
"Steve..." Peggy said softly.
"No, Peggy. It's true." Steve looked directly at Phillips. "Peter Parker is twenty-five years old, same as me. He should be back home in New York, working in his father's photography business, maybe planning a future with his girl Jane. Instead he's in some HYDRA prison because he believed Captain America meant something. Ted Knight gave up his teaching job because he thought science could help win this war. And Bucky..." Steve's voice broke completely. "Bucky enlisted because I kept trying to and he wanted to keep me safe."
Peggy felt tears prick her eyes as she watched this man finally bare his soul.
"I've been given every advantage," Steve continued, his voice gaining strength. "Enhanced strength, enhanced speed, enhanced healing. I'm supposed to be the perfect soldier, and I've spent over four months as a dancing monkey. Those men are in enemy hands because I wasn't there fighting beside them where I should have been. And what am I supposed to tell Jane Parker when I get home? That we left her boyfriend to die because the odds weren't good enough?"
Phillips stared at him for a long moment. "Even if you're right, even if we owe them a rescue attempt, you're talking about a suicide mission. The facility is built into a mountainside, concentric defensive rings, energy weapons we don't understand—"
"Then maybe it takes someone who can handle those weapons," Steve interrupted. "Someone enhanced enough to get through defenses that would stop a normal man."
Phillips looked around the tent, seeing the faces of his own officers, reading the shift in atmosphere. Finally, he spoke.
"You're asking me to authorize a mission with almost no chance of success to save men who may already be dead."
"I'm asking you to let me try," Steve said simply. "Because if I don't, then everything I've pretended to be on those stages is a lie."
The silence stretched for what felt like eternity. Finally, Phillips sat back down.
"You know what you're asking for, Rogers? You're asking for a chance to get yourself killed in enemy territory with no backup and no support."
"I'm asking for a chance to be the soldier I should have been all along," Steve replied. "The one my friends believed I was."
Phillips studied him for another long moment, then nodded slowly. "Well, then understand it somewhere else. If I read the posters correctly, you got someplace to be in 30 minutes."
Steve's jaw clenched, anger flashing in his eyes. "Yes, sir. I do." He turned on his heel and strode toward the tent flaps, his entire body radiating fury and determination. Just before pushing through the canvas, he stopped and looked back.
"With respect, sir, I hope someday you never have to explain to a mother why her son died in enemy hands because saving him wasn't worth the risk." His voice was ice-cold. "Because I don't think I could live with myself if I had to."
Without waiting for a response, Steve pushed through the tent flaps and disappeared into the rain, leaving a stunned silence behind him.
Phillips turned his attention back to Peggy, his voice carrying a warning. "If you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself."
—
Peggy caught up with Steve outside the command tent, her heels clicking on the wooden duckboards that kept personnel out of the worst of the mud. The rain had intensified, turning the camp into a maze of puddles and running water.
"What do you plan to do, walk to Austria?" she called after him.
Steve stopped and turned, rain running down his face. "If that's what it takes."
"You heard the Colonel," Peggy said, her voice gentling slightly. "Your friends are most likely dead."
"You don't know that." The words came out sharper than Steve intended, but he couldn't help himself. Bucky, Peter, Ted—they were more than just friends; they were family. The only family Steve had left.
"Even so, Phillips is devising a strategy. If he detects—"
"By the time he's done that, it could be too late," Steve interrupted. Every minute Phillips spent calculating and planning was another minute his friends spent in whatever hell HYDRA had prepared for them.
"Steve!"
He turned back to face her, rain running off his coat in small streams. "You told me you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?"
Peggy met his gaze directly, and he could see something shift in her expression. "Every word."
"Then you need to help me get my gear."
"Your gear?"
"My shield. The one from the tour." Steve's jaw set with determination. "If I'm going after them, I'm going as Captain America. Not the performing monkey version—the real one."
Peggy stared at him for a long moment, rain dripping from her hair. Then she nodded slowly. "The prop truck is parked behind the supply depot. But Steve, you can't do this alone."
"I won't be alone."
As if summoned by his words, four figures emerged from the shelter of a nearby tent. Diana led the way, her simple dress somehow managing to look regal even in the rain. Mala followed close behind, her warrior's bearing unmistakable despite her civilian clothes. Steve Trevor walked beside them, while Orion brought up the rear, his elegant walking stick clicking against the wooden boards.
"Steve," Diana called out, her voice carrying clearly over the sound of the rain. "We heard what happened in the tent. What Phillips said."
"We want to help," Trevor added, stepping forward. "Those men are in HYDRA hands because I didn't get my intelligence out fast enough. I owe them that much."
Steve looked at the assembled group, feeling something stir in his chest that he hadn't felt since before the serum—the sense that he wasn't facing this alone. "It's a suicide mission. Phillips made that clear."
"Then we'll die for something worthwhile," Diana said simply. "Where I come from, we believe that some causes are worth any sacrifice."
Orion nodded gravely. "Your friends believed in something when they enlisted. They deserve to have someone believe in them now."
Mala's voice was quiet but firm. "I have seen too many good warriors die in captivity because their leaders chose caution over courage. Not again."
Steve felt his resolve crystallize into something diamond-hard. "Then let's go get Captain America."
The prop truck sat behind the supply depot like a forgotten relic of a different war—one fought with symbols and speeches rather than blood and bullets. Steve pulled back the canvas tarp, revealing costumes, patriotic bunting, and theatrical props that seemed almost childish in the face of what lay ahead.
His shield rested in a custom-built rack, its triangular surface painted in red, white, and blue stripes with a single white star at the center. It was just steel and paint, Howard's prop department had told him—built for show rather than battle. The metal was lightweight, designed for a performer to carry through multiple shows without fatigue. But looking at it now, Steve realized it had always represented something more than mere theater.
"Feels different, doesn't it?" Trevor observed as Steve lifted the shield, testing its weight and balance.
"Everything feels different," Steve replied. The prop shield felt almost toy-like in his enhanced hands, but as he strapped it to his arm, something shifted. For the first time since putting on the costume, he felt like Captain America rather than just Steve Rogers playing dress-up. The shield might be a prop, but what it represented was real.
"Steve." Peggy's voice carried a note of urgency. "If you're serious about this, there are people you need to see. People who can help."
Twenty minutes later, Peggy led them through the rain to a section of the camp Steve had never seen before. A collection of tents surrounded by unusually heavy security, with guards who carried themselves like Howard's personal staff rather than military personnel.
"What is this place?" Diana asked, noting the discrete but extensive security measures.
"Howard Stark's private research facility," Peggy explained, flashing credentials to a guard who waved them through. "He's been working on some... special projects since New York."
They approached a large tent that hummed with electrical equipment. Peggy called out as they neared the entrance. "Howard? Are you decent? I'm bringing visitors."
"Define decent," came Howard's voice from inside. "If you mean am I wearing pants, then yes. If you mean am I conducting experiments that would make Dr. Frankenstein blush, then absolutely not."
Peggy pushed aside the tent flap and gestured for them to enter. As the group filed in—Steve with his shield, Peggy, Diana, Mala, Trevor, and Orion—three figures turned toward them.
"Steve?" Alan Scott rose from where he'd been sitting at a makeshift workbench, his familiar face breaking into a surprised smile. "What brings you here? I thought you were off saving the world through song and dance."
"Very funny," Steve replied, but his voice carried genuine warmth and relief at seeing his friend again. "Though after tonight, I might be looking for a new career."
"We heard about what happened in Phillips' tent," Jay Garrick said, his voice carrying that same odd harmonic quality Steve remembered from their goodbye months ago. "Word travels fast around here."
Jim Hammond stepped forward from where he'd been observing quietly. "Steve. I take it this isn't a social visit?"
Howard Stark emerged from behind a bank of monitoring equipment, wiping his hands on a towel. "Well, this is unexpected. Agent Carter, I assume this isn't a routine inspection?" His eyes swept over the unusual group. "And these would be the mysterious allies you mentioned?"
Steve looked around the tent, taking in the sophisticated equipment, the scattered notes in Howard's handwriting, and the unmistakable sense that his friends had found their purpose here. "Look at this place. You've really made progress since I last saw you."
"They've been excellent students," Howard said proudly. "These gentlemen have not only learned to control their abilities; they've exceeded every expectation." He gestured toward Alan. "Show him what you've mastered."
Alan held up his right hand, revealing a ring that pulsed with controlled green energy. As Steve watched, a complex construct of emerald light formed in the air above Alan's palm—a perfect replica of the tent they stood in, complete in every detail, but this time the construct was stable, precise, without the flickering uncertainty Steve remembered from their last meeting.
Orion's eyes immediately fixed on the green light, his expression shifting to one of recognition and wonder. "By Poseidon's beard," he breathed. "That's not mere technology. That's pure magical energy, channeled through an artifact of immense power."
Alan looked at him with surprise. "You can tell that just by looking?"
"In Atlantis, we are taught to recognize the fundamental forces," Orion explained, stepping closer to examine the construct. "What you wield is ancient magic, possibly predating even our oldest texts. Where did you acquire such a thing?"
"It found me," Alan said simply. "Called to me from the wreckage of a train accident. I've been learning to use it ever since."
"Impressive," Steve said genuinely. "You've come a long way from accidentally creating giant hammers."
"Language and control," Jay said with a grin. "Turns out both are important when you can move faster than most people can think." He demonstrated by moving to the opposite side of the tent in what appeared to be a casual step, but Steve caught the subtle displacement of air, the barely perceptible blur. "No more accidentally running through walls."
Diana watched Jay's movement with professional interest. "Remarkable speed. Even Amazon reflexes would be hard-pressed to track such velocity."
Jim's hand began to glow with controlled inner fire, flames dancing along his fingers with artistic precision. "I've learned to modulate the temperature and intensity. Dr. Horton would be proud of what his creation has become."
Mala studied Jim with the appraising eye of a warrior. "You are not human, yet you fight for humanity. There is honor in such devotion."
Steve felt a mixture of pride and melancholy looking at his friends. "You've all found your place here. Howard's given you what you needed."
"Howard's been helping us understand what we've become," Alan explained. "But more than that, he's given us time to figure out who we want to be with these abilities."
"And kept us from being locked up in government labs," Jay added, though his tone was grateful rather than bitter.
Howard cleared his throat. "These men deserved the chance to develop their abilities in a safe environment, away from military scientists who might see them as specimens first and people second."
Trevor stepped forward, his expression grim. "Speaking of which, we have a situation that requires more than laboratory conditions. Steve, tell them."
Steve's expression grew serious. "While you've been here mastering your abilities, some of my other friends weren't so lucky. Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker, and Ted Knight were captured by HYDRA. They're being held in some fortress in Austria."
The tent fell silent. Alan carefully dismissed the construct he'd been maintaining, its green light fading in a controlled manner. "Jesus, Steve. Bucky... I remember him from when you were trying to enlist. And those other guys—they were at the Expo with us, weren't they?"
"Peter helped me fill out my fifth enlistment form," Steve said quietly. "Ted talked my ear off about how science could change the war. They believed in what we were fighting for when nobody else did."
Jay's form stilled completely, the vibrations that usually surrounded him ceasing. "And now they're prisoners because they actually got to serve while we've been... what? Playing with our powers in safety?"
"That's not how I'd put it," Howard said carefully.
"But it's true, isn't it?" Jim's flames flickered with agitation. "We've been hiding here, learning control, staying safe, while real soldiers were out there fighting and dying."
"Phillips won't authorize a rescue mission," Steve continued, his anger evident. "Says the odds are too long, we'd lose more men than we'd save."
Jim stepped forward, his synthetic features set with determination. "But you're going anyway."
"Tonight," Steve confirmed. "With or without authorization. I won't leave them behind."
Alan set down the lantern he'd been holding, its metal surface inscribed with symbols that seemed to pulse with contained power. "You know what this means, don't you? If we go with you, we're throwing away everything Howard's built for us here. The safety, the training, the chance to understand what we've become."
"Court-martial territory for all of us," Howard pointed out, though his tone suggested he was already calculating rather than objecting. "They'll want to study you, contain you, use you as weapons."
Jay laughed, but there was no humor in it. "So we choose between being safe lab rats or risking everything for people who need us. That's not really a choice at all, is it?"
Diana had been listening intently, and now she stepped forward. "This HYDRA fortress—where exactly is it located?"
Steve studied her face, sensing there was more to her question than simple curiosity. "The Austrian Alps. Intelligence reports say it's built into the mountains, heavily fortified."
Diana exchanged meaningful glances with Mala and Orion. The weight of unspoken knowledge passed between them.