Steve hammered the dashboard, frantic in the pilot's seat. One hand gripped the control stick, fighting to redirect the plane, while the other fumbled with the comms, trying to reach the Strategic Scientific Reserve.
His face was bruised and bloodied, a trickle running from his lip, but he'd defeated Schmidt, fulfilling Dr. Erskine's dream.
Red Skull had disintegrated upon touching the Cosmic Cube.
A flash of blue light, and Schmidt was gone. Captain America didn't understand the mechanics, but Red Skull was probably dead, right?
Then the Cosmic Cube, as if superheated, burned through the deck and plunged into the sea.
But the crisis wasn't over. This massive aircraft, loaded with doomsday weapons, was locked on a course for New York, guided by its instruments.
If it crashed there, the city would be leveled.
Steve had never flown a plane. He could only wrestle the stick, hoping to alter its path.
"Anyone copy? This is Captain Rogers, anyone copy?"
Outside the cockpit, he saw nothing but endless ocean. He wasn't sure if he'd even changed course.
The comms crackled with static, but a voice soon broke through.
"Steve? Is that you? Are you okay?"
Peggy's voice came from the other end.
"Never better. Schmidt's dead."
Peggy glanced at Colonel Phillips. They were in Red Skull's base, now under SSR control, using his own comms tower.
Hearing Red Skull was gone, Phillips exhaled, a rare smile creasing his face.
But Peggy didn't relax. "What about the plane?"
Steve licked his lips, forcing a bitter smile, keeping his voice steady.
"That's… complicated."
"Give me your coordinates. I'll find you a safe landing spot." Peggy was sharp—she got it instantly.
Sparks erupted from the dashboard. Steve ducked.
Coordinates? After his fight with Schmidt, every instrument except the altimeter was fried.
"No chance of a safe landing. I'm going for a crash."
Bucky, nearby, looked worried. Steve had leapt onto Red Skull's plane at the last second—something only a Super Soldier could do.
Bucky hadn't made it aboard, and now he wished he could trade places with Steve.
Peggy didn't give up, signaling a comms officer. "Hold on, we'll get Howard. He'll know what to do."
An explosion rocked the cabin—probably the fuel. Fire was spreading.
"No time. It's out of control, and it's locked on New York. Like a kamikaze run." Steve yanked off his cowl, wiping sweat from his eyes, trying a joke. "I'm seeing if this thing's dishwasher-safe."
Peggy covered her mouth. She knew Steve was on a giant missile.
Her voice broke with a sob. "No, don't do this. We'll find a way."
"I'm the only one here. If I hesitate, millions die." Steve took a deep breath, staring ahead, the air thick with the smell of burning. "Peggy, this is my choice."
He pulled out a pocket watch with her photo, hidden in his belt, and set it by the altimeter, gazing at her face.
Then he yanked the stick, praying the steering worked a little.
Maybe the explosion helped. The plane shifted slightly, but the autopilot kept pulling it back toward New York.
Steve wasn't discouraged. As long as he could keep it from destroying the city, he'd hold that stick forever.
But the fuel was leaking. The plane was losing altitude, about to crash.
"Peggy?"
"…I'm here."
"We had a dance planned."
"Next Wednesday, Stork Club," Peggy said, tears streaming but her voice steady, hopeful.
"It's a date."
Steve saw more ice and snow ahead. This desolate place might be the best option.
Peggy wiped her eyes. "Eight o'clock. Don't be late."
"You know I still haven't learned to dance."
Steve spoke calmly, trying to lighten the mood.
In Red Skull's lair, Phillips couldn't bear to listen. He walked out. A hero's sacrifice was too much.
Sure, Steve disobeyed orders like it was his job, but he was the best soldier Phillips ever knew.
Bucky wanted to say something to Steve but saw Peggy, sobbing, and held back, tears falling.
He cursed his own weakness, not being there when his brother needed him.
Peggy, focused on the microphone, didn't notice. "I'll teach you. But only there."
Steve watched the icefield grow, filling his view, fearless.
"Then we'll need the band to play something slow. I don't want to step on—"
The comms cut off.
"Steve? Steve! STEVE!"
Peggy screamed, frantically adjusting the equipment, but it was fine.
Her heart seized, vision darkened, and she collapsed onto the console.
Bucky swayed but stayed upright, tears streaming as he gently laid Peggy on the floor.
Steve was gone. His best brother, sacrificed.
Phillips returned with medics, never having gone far.
He removed his hat, leading a salute toward the unknown, honoring a hero's passing.
Moments later, he lowered his arm, sniffed, and spoke to Bucky, voice hoarse.
"Sergeant Barnes."
"Colonel."
"We lost a good friend today. But the living must live on, to prove his sacrifice wasn't in vain."
Bucky shook his head, removing his glasses to wipe them. "When I needed Steve, he crossed enemy lines to save me. But when he needed me? I'm just standing here…"
Phillips had no answer, only a sigh.
There was only one Captain America. Who could save him?
The control tower fell silent, everyone mourning.
Then a soldier gasped, "Colonel, radar's picking up something! A massive object closing fast."
"What? A missile?" Phillips snapped on his hat, battle-ready.
"No, much bigger. Like… that plane from before!"
Phillips' mind raced. Did Hydra have another doomsday weapon to destroy the base and cover their tracks?
"Where is it?"
"Fast, sir. It was 200 kilometers out—Hydra's max radar range—but now… it's right above us."
"What?! Battle stations! Sound the air raid alarm!"
Bucky grabbed his submachine gun, storming out. The siren woke Peggy.
As an agent, alarms triggered her instincts.
But reality hit—Steve was gone. Grief surged.
Then she saw Phillips and the others gaping upward, mouths wide, as if witnessing the impossible.
What could shock the SSR like that?
She approached the tower's glass, tears blurring her face, and froze in disbelief.
A black-and-yellow figure, holding a massive plane aloft, slowly descended to the runway.
A human frame, tiny against the steel behemoth, was carrying the powerless beast back.
The stark contrast stunned everyone. Some slapped themselves, thinking it a hallucination.
A gust whipped up a black cloak. Like a god, he set the plane down, the ground trembling.
Not a hallucination.
The plane was scorched, dripping wet.
"Who's been littering in the Arctic?" Deathstroke dusted his hands, his metallic voice casual, as if he'd done nothing special, questioning the soldiers.
Those he'd thrashed years ago didn't dare answer.
Su Ming had trailed the plane from a distance, unseen in the clouds.
When the Cosmic Cube fell, he dove into the sea to retrieve it, only to get zapped to outer space like Red Skull.
He flew back, catching the plane just before it crashed.
He'd been rough—Steve hit his head on the dashboard and got shocked unconscious.
Everyone knew Aquaman could lift submarines, but few knew symbiotes could too.
In the comics, symbiotes typically had Class 7 strength—over 1,000 tons.
Weak hosts limited them, but with a strong one, their power was near limitless.
Su Ming preferred tactics over brute force. Strength stats didn't win fights.
"I lift 100 tons, you lift 50, so I'm stronger"? That thinking got you killed.
Strategy was key. And in Marvel's hidden rules, comedic characters were stronger.
Take Thanos. Strong? Sure, decent stats.
But Squirrel Girl, rushing to a toilet paper sale, knocked him out with one punch while he invaded Earth, then hurried home.
Thanos couldn't beat Deadpool either. "You don't kill me, I kill you. You kill me, I sleep with Death. Mad yet?"
Then there's "The Janitor," "The Impossible Man." When they got funny, their power had no ceiling.
The Janitor swept away the universe with his mop, wiping out all the heavyweights.
The Impossible Man mimicked anyone—even the Beyonder or Living Tribunal. He'd turn into Chucky or Astro Boy for laughs.
One Punch Man? He could do it. Super Saiyan? Yup. The Presence, Azathoth—any imagined being, he could become.
He once dragged DC's Mxyzptlk to Marvel, pranking him hard while he was out of his depth.
Su Ming leaned into Marvel's comedic vibe, knowing it made him stronger. The world bent toward him.
DC was the opposite—poor, funny Barry kept getting sacrificed, while grim Batman was unstoppable.
Right now, Su Ming channeled Superman, lifting the plane and tossing out a bad joke. He felt stronger already.