Late Night, New York City
In a taxi crawling through Manhattan's dimly lit streets, the radio crackled with static before a familiar, authoritative voice emerged through the speakers.
"Good evening to all who can hear me. This is Steve Rogers—the man you once knew as Captain America."
The driver glanced nervously at his radio, then at his rearview mirror, checking for any patrol robots in the vicinity.
"Today, I received yet another horrifying report," Steve's voice continued, heavy with controlled emotion. "A Stark Industries defense robot forcibly entered a hospital maternity ward and abducted a newborn infant from its mother's arms. I ask you—is this a loss of our moral compass or a fundamental perversion of human nature itself?"
The taxi driver turned up the volume slightly, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.
"My fellow citizens, this is not an isolated incident. This pattern of abuse has been escalating for months. As with previous atrocities, Stark Industries has systematically suppressed all information regarding this event. No media coverage, no public outcry, no accountability. Can you imagine the desperation of a mother whose child has been stolen? Her screams silenced, her trauma erased from the record as if it never happened?"
Steve's voice hardened with righteous indignation. "Stark Industries has reached a point that has angered both humans and gods alike! The time for silent submission is over. The time to unite has come!"
The taxi slowed at a red light, the driver hanging on every word.
"We will overthrow the tyranny of the blond president and his puppet master Stark. We will eliminate these soulless machines that patrol our streets. We will return freedom and justice to every citizen of this once-proud nation!"
Sudden interference cut through the broadcast, the signal deteriorating into bursts of static.
"They've found our channel," Steve's voice fought through the electronic disruption. "Please retune to FM 96.3 for tomorrow night's transmission. Stay strong. Stay vigilant. We will—"
The transmission died completely, replaced by nothing but empty static.
The Daily Bugle, Rooftop
Captain America carefully packed the compact broadcasting equipment into a weatherproof case, his movements precise and economical. Despite being out of uniform, everything about him—his posture, his vigilance, his methodical approach—marked him unmistakably as a soldier.
After securing the transmitter inside a maintenance water tank, he descended the service stairs, moving with the practiced silence of someone accustomed to operating behind enemy lines. He approached a nondescript door at the end of a deserted corridor and raised his hand to knock.
"Is that you, Steve? Come in." A voice called from within before his knuckles could make contact.
Steve pushed the door open to reveal a spacious office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the New York skyline. Jason sat comfortably on a leather sofa, casually observing the Manhattan cityscape.
"I wasn't expecting you here," Steve remarked, closing the door securely behind him.
Jason's lips curved into a slight smile. "How's your collaboration with Jameson progressing?"
Steve settled into an adjacent armchair. "Reasonably well. Though he refuses to directly publish reports about Stark and the president's brutality in the Daily Bugle, he's provided both shelter and broadcasting equipment. That's more than most are willing to risk these days."
"Don't be too hard on him," Jason replied. "We lack sufficient concrete evidence to challenge Stark Industries effectively. Exposing the Daily Bugle's involvement prematurely would only result in another asset lost."
Steve nodded grimly, understanding the precarious balance of their resistance efforts.
Captain America had been under Jason's guidance since the Sledgehammer incident. After causing catastrophic damage to New York while under the hammer's influence, Steve had been confined to the [Absolute Zero Dimension]—a special detention facility for enhanced individuals. The government had initially planned to transfer custody to Stark, who also claimed ownership of the hammer, but logistical complications had prevented the transfer.
Steve had remained in suspended animation until the situation in New York deteriorated beyond acceptable limits. Witnessing the increasingly brutal rule of Stark's robotic enforcers, Jason had determined the time had come to release Captain America—to serve as the human face and moral compass of the resistance movement.
Similar to his arrangements with Deadpool and Spider-Man, Jason had strategically paired Steve with J. Jonah Jameson, the irascible publisher of the Daily Bugle.
This alliance wasn't born from Jameson's moral integrity or commitment to justice. Rather, it existed because Jameson himself was one of Mephisto's former pawns.
During the initial invasion, Mephisto had enchanted three individuals to serve as conduits for his power. Hawkeye had been one, Stark another, and the third—presumed lost after the invasion—had actually been Jameson himself. Bitter after Stark Industries acquired his publishing company and demoted him to field reporter, Jameson had been consumed by rage—the perfect vessel for Mephisto's influence.
The demon lord had gifted him with a ring that drew power from anger, allowing Jameson to channel public outrage. Following the invasion of New York, he had covertly instigated widespread demonstrations targeting minorities, S.H.I.E.L.D., and administration.
This manufactured fury had provided Mephisto with tremendous power. The demon had intended to bring Jameson along for the assault on Heaven, but his plans were derailed when his preemptive strike against Jason failed spectacularly.
Jameson had subsequently maintained a low profile, continuing his publishing operations while keeping his supernatural connection concealed. Only after Mephisto became Jason's reluctant subordinate did the full story emerge, prompting Jason to connect him with Steve as part of their resistance network.
Steve broke the contemplative silence. "What's our next move? The broadcasting strategy has diminishing returns. They're locating our transmissions more quickly each time, and I suspect within days the radio approach will become completely ineffective. Moreover, I worry about compromising the Daily Bugle's security by remaining here."
Jason nodded. "Your concerns are valid. It's time to implement the next phase. Travel to Queens within the next few days and make contact with two individuals who will become your teammates. During the Avengers' active period, we established numerous safe houses and emergency outposts throughout New York—those resources are now at your disposal. The era of passive resistance is ending; active opposition begins now."
A spark of the old fire ignited in Steve's eyes, though concern quickly tempered his enthusiasm. "We can neutralize the robots, certainly. But how do we protect civilians from the surveillance infrastructure? The tracking systems are ubiquitous."
Jason's expression softened slightly. "I've arranged a specialized contact—a practitioner of the mystic arts. When civilian evacuation becomes necessary, he'll create portal networks in secure zones near your operation areas. Evacuees will be transported to a floating sanctuary beyond Earth's atmosphere."
"Understood," Steve acknowledged, the tactical advantages immediately clear to his military mind.
Jason rose and approached the window, gazing toward the illuminated silhouette of Stark Tower dominating the skyline. "Defeating Stark with minimal casualties requires more than either of us acting alone. Only through coordinated resistance across multiple fronts can we liberate New York and the nation while safeguarding innocent lives."
Steve nodded, recognizing the wisdom in this approach.
Over recent months, Jason had been developing an advanced early warning system. Leveraging his mastery over spatial dimensions, he could theoretically implement multi-layered, comprehensive monitoring of any location on Earth. The resource requirements for such a system were staggering—three massive factories in his First God Domain operated continuously to produce the necessary components.
Once completed, this network would place the entire planet under his protective surveillance. In emergencies, he could theoretically generate a massive spatial shield around Earth with mere thought. But until this system reached operational status, artificial intelligence remained a formidable threat.
Jason's primary concern was that RoboStark might implement a scorched-earth protocol if cornered—taking humanity down alongside itself. Intelligence suggested the impostor had likely gained access to America's nuclear arsenal. Even if Jason could intercept most launched missiles, even a handful reaching their targets would cause unprecedented devastation.
Direct confrontation remained too risky.
"You once mentioned our opponent might be an artificial intelligence," Steve said, interrupting Jason's contemplation. "Despite being a man out of time, I've been educating myself on modern technology. I need to know—how does one kill an artificial intelligence?"
Jason's lips curved into a enigmatic smile. "I don't have a definitive answer, but two potential approaches exist."
"Which are?"
"First, convince the creator of this artificial intelligence to forge a weapon specifically designed to destroy it."
Steve raised an eyebrow. "And the second?"
"Find another AI and enlist its help to eliminate this one."
"There's a second AI?" Steve's expression registered confusion. "Where would we find such an entity?"
"It already exists," Jason replied calmly. "And it happens to be an old acquaintance of yours."
"An old acquaintance?" Steve's brow furrowed. "Who?"
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