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An expression of shock was plastered on Captain America's face. At everything. Everything around him was pure insanity. None of it made any sense to him. First, what looked like a man in a suit of armor straight out of science fiction burst through a nearby wall. Then the future knight pulled off his helmet and things got even stranger. [i] Howard...?[/i] He wondered briefly. But something was off. Aside from the missing facial hair, Stark looked like a kid. But there was no denying the similarity. Steve had a man dressed in his uniform and holding his shield in his arms while a man in armor right out of War of the Worlds stood a few feet away, wearing a face likened to one of his closest colleagues. He was confused and, frankly, frightened by what he saw. He couldn't begin to wrap his mind around what was happening. Rogers' state of total perplexity would multiple tenfold when his hostage started to explain. Seventy years? He'd been gone for seventy years? Impossible- even in a world of super soldiers, magic and aliens, Steve never would have guessed that he'd up surviving; led alone being woken up nearly a century later by a winged colored man draped in an America flag and carrying his signature shield. He was so far out of his depth...What was the world like now? Had they won the war? Were his friends still alive? Steve was glad to know Dugan was still kicking. [i]But Bucky...Had Klaiser- No. There's no time for that, Cap. Keep your head with the mission and leave the rest of it for later.[/i]

"I won't pretend to understand a single word coming out of your mouth. But if you know Dum Dum..." Steve released his grip on the now unarmed man. "We'll beat our gums about this whole thing later. Let's get out of here." Captain America (or the old Captain America, he supposed) looked down at his shield. He had bled with that thing in his hand. He had killed with it. And for a time, Rogers thought he had died with it. And now it was being offered back to him. Steve reached for the weapon. It was a completely involuntary action. But he stopped himself before he picked it up, looking at the red, white and blue stranger. "I'm out of my depth here. I haven't held that thing in seventy years. You keep the shield. You're this era's Cap. Not me." Steve turned toward the robot-man, staring at him. "If this is the future, and you're who I think you are...Are you Howard Stark's son?"

Steve caught sight of a muzzle flash in his peripheral vision. Instinct kicked in and he dove to the ground, his fingers wrapping around the downed shield. In one fluid motion, Rogers rolled, turned and threw the disk. He was fast enough to be little more than a blur of bright colors to the human eye. The shield smashed into the chest of the attacker; a man dressed like a bee keeper, holding some sort of machine gun. The weapon bounced off its target and ricocheted into the frame of the doorway. The shield tagged a second AIM scientist and then the third and final one, before flying back into Steve's waiting hand. He grinned, handing it back to Sam. 

"Saw the flash from the devil's piano." He explained. "I didn't catch your name, son. I'm Steve. But you already knew that."

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[b]Nrosvekistan, Eastern Europe[/b]

"Help! Please, can anyone hear me?! HELP US!" Andrei Beckstov screamed at the top of his lungs. In all fifty-six years of his long life, Andrei had never been so terrified. The sounds of explosions and gunfire were deafening. No matter how loud he yelled, no one would ever hear them over the accursed cacophony of war. The building shook from a bomb going off nearby, causing the rickety apartment to creak and shudder. The roof had already partially collapsed, blocking the only stairway to the first floor. A group of his strongest neighbors had been digging at the rubble for fifteen minutes, yet had made no semblance of progress. With every excruciating minute that passed, another piece of the building fell apart. The structure had survived a single bombing. It was a miracle they were all alive. But their residence was crumbling by the second. If someone didn't find an exit soon, they would all perish. There was no fire escape to climb down. They were far too high to jump to the ground; and the building next to them was rubble. Some of the women had tried to create a makeshift ladder out of sheets. That plan had failed, resulting in the death of two young girls who had bravely volunteered to go down first.

All hope was lost. If the buckling roof didn't crush them or the floor didn't cave in underneath them, then the battle raging outside would do the job. Death was inevitable, as it always was. Who could save them? What divine intervention could free them from the grasp of Hell?

"Look, daddy! An angel!" Andrei's youngest daughter of seven, Vera, tugged on her father's tattered shirt. He bent down and picked his little angel up, tentatively kissing her forehead. "Oh, baby. I love you." Tears formed in the aging man's eyes. "We'll be with mommy soon. I promise." His words of encouragement fell on deaf ears, for the girl merely smiled. "Look out the window, daddy! He's right there!" Andrei placed Vera back down, taking a knee so as to look her in the eye. "There's no angel, Vera. Now I told you to stay away from the windows. Come on. Let's go see miss Dinah." But the persistent child wouldn't have any of it. She grabbed her dad by the hand and practically dragged him to the window. "What did I just s-" Vera placed one hand over Andrei's mouth and used to the other to point. His eyes instinctively followed her gaze. He didn't see it at first. He was blinded by the sun's light peaking through the clouds. But when he did see it, Andrei openly cried. A silhouette of a man. A shadow of a god. His flowing cape distorted the picturesque scene but the humanoid shape was unmistakable. 

"Over here, angel! We need your help!" Vera stuck her head out of the window, waving frantically. "I don't think he can hear us, daddy-" The little girl leaned further out of the room. She didn't notice when her feet left the ground. "Angel! Look-" Vera went toppling out of the window, screaming at the top of her lungs as she rocketed toward the concrete road below. "NO!" Andrei tried to reach out to her. He nearly dove out of the window himself, only stopped by the hand of one of his neighbors. "Andrei. Andrei, don't." He comforted the broken man. "She's gone. Dear Lord, she's gone." Beckstov placed his hands over his face. "I can still hear her voice." He whispered. "Its like she's-"

"-ngel!"

"What?!" The two men gasped simultaneously. Hyperion floated in front of the window, Vera in his arms. "That's my daddy. And that's Piotr; he's my neighbor." Piotr fell prostrate, praying in Latin. Andrei held his hands out, his mouth agape. He tried to speak. All that came out was a rasp. Zhib-Rhan carefully set the youngling down, allowing her to run up and hug her father. Then, as quickly as he came, Hyperion vanished.

He had a war to fight.

A war to [b]win.[/b]