While Steve was adjusting his stats and feeling out the flow of his new bio-field, the special ops unit outside had already finished mopping up the battlefield.
Rumlow, once again back to his cold-blooded self, stepped forward and reported:
"Captain, all Ten Rings members on-site have been neutralized. We've also planted C4 charges on their weapons stockpile inside the cave."
"Well done. Prepare to withdraw. Detonate after takeoff."
Steve swept his gaze across the corpse-strewn ground and nodded in satisfaction.
Hydra's branch in Afghanistan might have been unimpressive, but Rumlow and his squad—elite commandos recognized as aces both in S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra—were undeniably efficient.
Against the Ten Rings rabble, their sudden strike was nothing short of dimensional suppression.
In every respect—training, combat ability, equipment—they completely outclassed the enemy.
The Ten Rings thugs didn't even manage to cost the squad a single casualty.
Tony, meanwhile, studied the unit with some unease. Their faces radiated menace, more like criminals than soldiers. He leaned toward Steve with a wry smile:
"Honestly, if I didn't know who you were, seeing this bunch of killers at your command, I'd probably assume you were the leader of some evil organization."
Steve: ...
Gotta admit, kid, you hit the mark.
Of course, that wasn't something Steve would ever say out loud. Instead, he replied matter-of-factly:
"My squad is a certified United Nations special operations team—one of the top-tier elite units in the world. It's only natural they carry a heavy presence."
Tony shrugged and nodded, satisfied with the answer. He hadn't asked all that seriously anyway. After all, how could Captain America possibly be a villain? And what kind of villain would save him?
Once everyone was aboard the Quinjet, Rumlow pressed the detonator.
BOOOOM!!!
The Ten Rings' base below vanished in a sea of fire, engulfing Stark Industries weapons along with Tony's crude Mark I prototype.
Tony didn't object. He had no intention of letting anyone lay hands on his design—even crude hand-forged parts. Blowing it all to hell was the best solution.
Steve didn't comment either. He wasn't interested in Iron Man armor, and he certainly didn't want Hydra acquiring it. Hydra was best left as it was—lurking in the shadows. If they ever got their hands on an Iron Man suit, who knew whether they'd kickstart World War III.
All Steve wanted was to use Hydra's missions as stepping stones to strengthen himself. He had no intention of helping Hydra conquer the world.
···
Time aboard the Quinjet slipped by quickly.
Steve didn't deliver Tony back to S.H.I.E.L.D.—instead, he personally escorted him to Stark Tower in New York.
After sharing a few cheeseburgers together, Steve excused himself. Tony had a mountain of messes waiting after two months missing; Steve had no desire to get tangled in them.
Nor did he return to S.H.I.E.L.D. He simply sent Rumlow and the unit back to file the mission report.
It wasn't just Fury avoiding him—he had no wish to see that bald, one-eyed manipulator either.
If it weren't for the fact that he still couldn't beat Captain Marvel, Steve would've already dragged Nick Fury into a sack and dumped him into the Hudson. As far as he was concerned, the man was a liability not just to him, but to the entire world.
"Captain Rogers, we've arrived."
Happy's voice pulled Steve out of his thoughts. Looking out the car window, he realized they had reached his familiar neighborhood in Brooklyn.
"Thanks for the ride, Happy. You can head back now."
Steve thanked the man behind the wheel of a Rolls-Royce whose model he couldn't name, then stepped out.
After Rumlow and the others had left earlier, Steve had originally planned to head home on his own. But Tony, though too busy to come himself, had insisted on assigning his bodyguard to drive him back.
Happy leaned out the window, speaking earnestly:
"It's my honor, Captain. And thank you again for saving Tony. He's not just my boss—he's my best friend."
"He's also the son of my comrade. Saving him was only natural. No need to thank me."
Steve smiled lightly, waved a hand, and turned toward his apartment.
The place was modest—two bedrooms and a living room, with a retro style, provided to him by S.H.I.E.L.D.
He rarely lived there. Most of the past year had been spent at the homes of his last nineteen girlfriends. The past two months, for instance, he hadn't come home once, staying instead at the villa of a pair of twin sisters.
And yet, the apartment remained spotless.
Steve smirked. Looked like his "friendly neighbor" had once again taken it upon herself to tidy the place.
Just as he was thinking that, movement came from the half-open door. A blonde girl with sweet, European features poked her head in.
"Captain Rogers, is that you?"
"Sharon? Please, come in. I just got back from a mission, figured I'd stay here a while since it's been so long. Thanks for looking after the place in my absence."
Steve invited her in and pulled two bottles of Coke from the fridge.
As they sat down, Sharon couldn't help smiling as she looked at him.
"You're a hero of this nation. I'm glad I can do something for you."
Steve smiled without answering, simply cracking open a can for her and sliding it across the table.
Sharon Carter—Nick Fury's carefully trained agent, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Agent 13, and the niece of Peggy Carter, Steve's old flame.
Of course, she wasn't using that name right now. On Fury's orders, she was living under the alias Sharon Stone, disguised as his neighbor to secretly watch over him.
Fury and Sharon thought they had concealed the truth well. What they didn't know was that Steve, armed with knowledge they couldn't imagine, had long since uncovered Sharon Carter's real identity.
But he bore no hostility toward the girl. Her strength, her status, none of it gave him reason to make a move.
Besides, she wasn't truly his enemy, nor could she monitor him effectively. If he wanted, he could shake her off in seconds. He never met Hydra contacts here anyway, so her surveillance was meaningless.
If anything, she was more like a pretty little housekeeper.
They shared a sip of Coke. Sharon's eyes, bright and watery, never left him from the moment she'd stepped inside. She glanced toward the fridge, then looked back at him with hopeful eyes.
"Captain, you haven't been home in two months. There's no food left here. I just bought some fresh ingredients today… Would you like to try my cooking?"