[hr][color=white][sup][h1]
[center][img]https://comicbook.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2025/05/captain-america-ben-harvey-cover.jpg[/img][/center]
[b][center][color=black] C A P T A I N   A M E R I C A[/color]
[color=9ADAFF]C A P T A I N   A M E R I C A[/color][/center]
[/b][/h1][/sup][/color]
[INDENT][hr][/INDENT][INDENT][color=DARKGRAY][center][sub]"My friends, we must toughen up. We have our homes and our lands to defend now. 
We must remain cool and yet determined. We are aware of the danger ahead but unafraid." 
- Fiorello H. LaGuardia[/sub][/center][/color][/INDENT][INDENT][hr][/INDENT][indent][sub][COLOR=9ADAFF][B][I]MANHATTAN, 1941[/I][/B][/COLOR][/sub][/indent][indent][sup][right][COLOR=9ADAFF][B]INTERMISSION[/B][/color][/right][/sup][/indent]
[INDENT][INDENT][INDENT][color=DARKGRAY][color=#dcd6cc]"Roberts, Carl."[/color]

The army doctor called out and then escorted the gentleman through the door to get his exam results and likely receive the I-A classification, making him eligible to serve his country. The waiting room of the induction center was still filled with eager men like Carl. Many of them would have heard about the attack on Pearl Harbor long before the president's speech to Congress, all eager to avenge it. An hour after the declaration of war was signed, the center had become a magnet for the restless; a line circled the building and extended down Whitehall Street for a block and a half. Each and every man there had their reasons for volunteering to enlist, but it all stemmed from a sense of patriotic duty to protect their country.

[color=#dcd6cc]"Robinson, Edgar."[/color]

Steve Rogers was one of those men who understood what had to be done long before Pearl Harbor. For three long years, he watched newsreels, read headlines, and listened to radio broadcasts detailing the brutal German occupation of Europe and the harrowing struggles faced by those who dared to resist. Steve knew then what was at stake and the cost of inaction in the face of fascism. He would have enlisted sooner if not for one glaring obstacle that held him back: his health. Even now, he heard the hushed, sneering remarks about his frail body and the laughter of men with much stronger bodies. Steve learned a long time ago not only to accept his imperfections but also to actively push himself. Daily Dozen exercises, swimming twice a week, and working tirelessly as a busser at his neighborhood restaurant all became part of his routine. There were, admittedly, moments when his body was so exhausted that he considered giving up, and he would have if not for-

[color=6ecff6]"They still haven't called you up?"[/color] Bucky Barnes, his close friend, asked as he slid into the seat next to Steve.

That... that was not right. Steve distinctly remembered an officer telling Bucky to leave the waiting room because he had gotten his exam results. Instead of leaving, he opted to wait in the hallway; his stubbornness caused the irritated officer to lose his patience and leave him be. But even he wasn't going to push his luck any further. Yet here he was, casually nonchalant and sitting out in the open. That would have been enough for Steve to realize that something was off if not for the fact that no one noticed or cared. Then, the doctor came back and continued to call out names, not once lifting his gaze from the list in front of him.

[color=#dcd6cc]"Roe, Joseph."[/color]

Steve's attention was momentarily drawn to a newspaper lying abandoned on the wooden chair beside him. He glanced over, but the words were gibberish, swirled together in a jumbled mess that was utterly unreadable. At that moment, the realization hit him hard. [color=white]"Have I been dreaming?"[/color] he asked, looking directly at Bucky for some kind of response. Steve got one with a simple nod out of him and then ran his trembling fingers through his short blond hair and whispered, [color=white]"Why?"[/color]

[color=6ecff6]"Don't ask me. It's your mind."[/color] Bucky pulled out a stick of juicy fruit-favored chewing gum, his favorite. As he began to chew, the loud smacking echoed through the room, drawing annoyed glances from the other men. But they did nothing else, probably lost in their own thoughts. For Steve, he had grown accustomed to it over the years, and it didn't distract him from thinking up any reason he'd be unconscious. But there was none. 

Bucky's brow furrowed. [color=6ecff6]"You've already thrown in the towel?"[/color]

[color=white]"Not at all."[/color] Steve pushed himself up from the chair, feeling the air thicken with an unexpected warmth. [color=white]"Just thinking. That's all,"[/color] he replied, walking towards the closed window. He wrestled with the bottom rail before it budged with a sudden ease he hadn't expected. As the fresh air flowed in, he glanced down at his arms, now noticeably more muscular than ever before. Just as he was about to examine himself further, Bucky abruptly appeared at his side, his gaze fixed intently on the line wrapped around the building below. He was wearing his Howling Commandos uniform, mostly army-issued gear with personal touches here and there. However, what stood out to Steve the most was how strikingly mature he looked.

[color=6ecff6]"Look at them, men eager to serve their country in its hour of need. Did any of them even consider what that meant before volunteering? Or were they [i]that[/i] blind to their own mortality?"[/color] Bucky mused, then turned to Steve, his arms crossed thoughtfully. [color=6ecff6]"You weren't, though. You lost that illusion when you were only seven, almost dying of smallpox in that crowded hospital. It left you frail, yes, but it made you more appreciative of life. Why else would Abraham have chosen you for the serum instead of someone like Hodge, who was seemingly superior in every way possible? Why would your comrades follow you into the heart of Nazi-occupied Europe? Why am I here, standing with you in your head?"[/color]

A smirk crept onto Steve's face. [color=white]"Because you're my subconscious?"[/color]

[color=6ecff6]"Very funny, wise-ass."[/color] Bucky rolled his eyes, giving Steve a playful nudge on the shoulder. They shared a moment of silence, appreciative of the brief peace they rarely got. Steve knew this was all a dream he would soon forget upon waking up, but for now, he was grateful that his friend was by his side. Then, the cool breeze suddenly became a chilling gust as the doctor stepped into the room, now outfitted for combat. He cast a quick glance at his clipboard and declared with authority:

[color=#98896d]"Barnes, James."[/color]

Bucky let out a resigned sigh and made his way toward the wide-open door, letting in... snow? [color=6ecff6]"I was hoping for a little more time,"[/color] he muttered, his breath visible in the chill. Confused, Steve hurried to catch up, wanting to ask what he meant, but Bucky stopped short of the doorway and turned back to his friend, his entire demeanor strangely somber. One of his hands was trembling slightly around his pistol, but Bucky masked it quite well from his friend, appearing uncharacteristically serene.

[color=6ecff6]"Steven,"[/color] he said, his voice steady yet burdened with unspoken emotions, [color=6ecff6]"listen to me. No matter what happens, please don't go and blame yourself. There was nothing more you could've done."[/color]

Steve let out a soft, confused chuckle. [color=white]"What are you-"[/color]

Abruptly, he was shoved to the ground as two gunshots rang out. Bucky staggered towards the door, but in a last act of defiance, he fired a single shot that found its mark effectively. He had always been a good shot. But Steve could only watch in horror as Bucky dropped his pistol, and blood began to drip onto the floor. Bucky, who had always seemed invincible from schoolyard brawls to battlefields, was just human, after all, like everyone else.

[color=white]"[b]BUCKY![/b]"[/color] Steve screamed, desperately sprinting towards Buck, who had fallen through the doorway. A chilling splash rippled across the room before the door slammed shut with a finality. He refused—couldn't accept it. He yanked on the door handle with all his might, praying the hinges would give way. But even with the newfound strength coursing through him from the serum, it wasn't enough. It was never enough. Steve pounded on the door out of sheer frustration, his eyes starting to tear up. He was Captain America, a hero to his fellow soldiers and a liberator to civilians. He had saved countless lives throughout the war with ease. But when it came to the ones he cherished—Arn, Baker Company, Batroc, Serafina, and now Bucky—why couldn't he save them? Steve crumpled to his knees and succumbed to grief, not caring that the bitter chill was seeping into his bones. He remained there for what felt like hours, unconcerned about footsteps approaching from behind.

[color=#c3b091]"Rogers, Steven."[/color] A sharp voice cut through the haze.

Steve turned and saw a general clad in his summer uniform, hands behind his back. His face was unrecognizable to him, but the sense of authority felt eerily familiar. [color=#c3b091]"Get up. Your country still needs you,"[/color] he commanded but was met with silence instead. Steve didn't care about him or his orders; he had watched his close friend die for him. The General just grunted under his breath and walked toward the door, opening it with ease that surprised Steve, who got up from the floor and began wiping away the tears. The General stood in front of the door and dictated with such arrogance that it reminded Steve of the other generals and officers who only treated him as a propaganda tool, not an actual person. 

[color=#c3b091]"Your friend paid the ultimate price so that [b]freedom[/b] prevails. He didn't ask for this war, but he accepted the fight, knowing damn well it doesn't end till the free world stands triumphant. Don't let his sacrifice be in vain and do your part."[/color]

But Steve barely registered the words and pushed past him as he stepped through the doorway, finding himself inside... a cockpit? It was inching closer to the icy water below at a slow pace. He spun around to ask The General about Bucky's whereabouts, but he simply saluted and swung the door shut. In that instant, the descent quickened at an alarming rate. With urgency, Steve dove into the pilot's seat and instinctively gripped the control wheel, knowing full well what to do. However, instead of pulling back to gain altitude, he thrust the wheel forward impulsively. He was baffled as to why he had done that and only watched in terror as the cockpit hurtled toward the water's surface. 

It was only when the frigid depths swallowed him whole that the answer came to him in a single word: containment. Then he woke up.[/color][/INDENT][/INDENT][/INDENT]
[hr]