"Come back to us."
Natasha's words hung in the air between them. Behind the assembled heroes, countless spacecraft rose into the sky like ascending fireworks, their engines painting brilliant trails across the afternoon sky.
Those vessels were packed with civilians—millions of people evacuating Earth before the collision crisis reached its terminal phase.
Ironically, they had Hydra to thank for the sheer number of available ships. If the organization hadn't spent the past year frantically developing its military infrastructure, there wouldn't have been nearly enough evacuation capacity.
"I'm right here!" Steve's voice cut through the moment like a blade.
His tone was cold, utterly devoid of the warmth they remembered. The man who'd once shared coffee and conversation, who'd laughed at Tony's jokes and encouraged Peter Parker's enthusiasm—that person seemed to have evaporated, leaving only this armored stranger.
Natasha's voice caught in her throat. "Then where did our Steve go?"
"Maybe he never existed in the first place." Steve's response was matter-of-fact, almost clinical.
"Maybe that was just a disguise."
The heroes always believed he had strayed from justice's path, that some trauma or manipulation had corrupted him. They wanted to believe the real Steve Rogers was still buried somewhere inside this Hydra commander, waiting to be rescued.
But the truth was far simpler and far more devastating.
He had never been on their side at all.
Steve Rogers of this universe—the real one, the genuine article—had vanished the moment the Cosmic Cube rewrote reality a year ago. He'd been erased, replaced by an alternate version from a parallel timeline.
An alternate Steve Rogers who had grown up in Hydra.
In his original universe, it was Elisa Sinclair who had saved him and his mother from poverty and violence. She'd given him love and tolerance when the world had offered only hardship. Baron Zemo had given him friendship and purpose.
Hydra had made him into Captain America.
So he'd come to this universe with a mission—to revive Hydra here, to build the better world he'd always envisioned. He'd endured years of fighting alongside heroes he privately despised, maintaining his cover with perfect discipline.
Until a year ago, when the Cosmic Cube had given him the power to finally seize control.
Therefore, he had never truly been the hero they believed him to be.
But similarly, he wasn't quite the monster they now imagined.
In his home universe, Hydra had been an extreme but fundamentally noble organization—dedicated to order, structure, and protection. Later, certain factions had sought Nazi support and aligned with the Red Skull, splitting the organization into warring branches.
When Steve took power, his first act had been purging those inhuman fanatics.
He genuinely wanted to build a better world. It was just that his vision of "better" involved absolute authoritarian rule where even breathing felt regulated and controlled.
It was impossible to say whether he was truly right or wrong. If his vision were fully realized, some people would undoubtedly be happier and safer.
Under his rule, crime rates in America had plummeted to near zero. People no longer feared walking the streets at night—not because those streets were safe, but because there was no one left walking them.
Of course, there were no longer any people traveling at night.
Under his regime, nighttime movement was evidence of criminal intent. Gatherings of more than three people constituted conspiracy. Unauthorized assembly. Thought crime.
"Face reality," Steve said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute conviction. "The Steve Rogers you knew no longer exists—if he ever truly did."
"I am Captain Hydra."
"I am the one destined to save this world."
He opened his palm. The Cosmic Cube's energy materialized as a miniature holographic universe, stars and galaxies swirling within his grasp.
"This is the universe," he explained, his tone almost professorial. "And I am already an omnipotent god within it. I control everything—physics, causality, even consciousness itself."
That was the terrifying truth. He already possessed the power to distort minds, to rewrite thoughts and memories. With a single impulse, he could alter the heroes' consciousness, make them willingly sacrifice their lives for Hydra's glory.
The temptation was almost overwhelming.
"What do you gain by fighting me?" Steve demanded, his voice rising with frustrated passion. "Being forced to abandon your homeland? Watching Earth destroyed? Facing endless criminals and constant infighting?"
"Is that what you want?"
His expression shifted, becoming almost pleading.
"I merely cleaned out the scum—the drug addicts, the gambling addicts, the violent drunks who destroyed their own families. All I wanted was for everything to exist within proper rules and structure. For everyone to live without fearing for their safety, without worrying that the house and car they'd spent decades paying off would suddenly be destroyed by monsters appearing from nowhere!"
"So you bombed Las Vegas?" Tony's voice cut through the justification like acid.
"What did those civilians do wrong?!"
His repulsors charged with building energy, the whine of capacitors filling the air.
"Weren't you the one who actually threatened their lives? Who destroyed their homes? You speak about protection, but your actions tell a different story entirely!"
They spoke with grand righteousness, but their deeds revealed only tyranny. This hypocrisy was precisely what made Hydra so utterly hateful.
"You killed Rick Jones, Steve!" The accusation burst from multiple throats simultaneously.
"He admired you more than anyone! He considered you his personal hero!"
"And what did you do to him?!"
Steve's eyes half-closed, his expression somehow managing to be both cold and seemingly filled with benevolent patience.
"These are all necessary sacrifices," he said, each word measured and deliberate.
"My friends died. My mother died. But they will all be reborn in the new world I'm creating. So will Rick Jones."
He gestured to the glowing cube of reality in his palm.
"I can do all of this. I have the power to make everything right."
"Really?" Natasha's eyes narrowed skeptically. "Then what are you waiting for?"
She studied his face carefully, searching for any crack in the facade.
But Steve wanted something the Cube couldn't simply manufacture. He craved genuine recognition—real praise for Hydra's accomplishments, not the hollow words of mind-controlled puppets.
He wanted them to understand. To truly see his vision and acknowledge its brilliance.
"It seems getting you to understand me is wishful thinking," Steve said, resignation coloring his tone.
"Since you've brought this on yourselves, don't blame me for what happens next."
Steve clenched his fist. From the core reactor in his chest, the Cosmic Cube's energy began spreading throughout his body, following pathways traced by his conscious will.
Blue energy light rippled across his armor like circuit patterns, pulsing with reality-bending power.
The miniature universe in his palm rotated like a Rubik's Cube, completely subject to his manipulation.
"Change their minds!" he commanded.
BOOM!
Blue energy exploded outward in a wave, engulfing Natasha and the other heroes in its otherworldly glow.
The light was blinding, beautiful, and utterly alien. It tasted like copper and ozone, felt like static electricity dancing across skin.
In that instant, everyone's gaze seemed to shift, their expressions going slack.
Steve looked down at them from his position of power and said with satisfaction, "As you wish."
He watched as the heroes raised their right hands in what he expected would be the Hydra salute.
That's how it should be.
How it should have been from the very beginning.
There was nothing wrong with manipulating them using the Cube's power. They simply couldn't see the bigger picture—couldn't comprehend the necessity of sacrifice for the greater good.
"All right," Steve said, his voice thick with emotion. "Now let us offer our praises to the great and glorious Hydra."
But he didn't hear the cry that had haunted his dreams.
The words "Hail Hydra!" never came.
Instead, the heroes clenched their fists—not in salute, but in defiance. Just as Steve himself had once done facing impossible odds. Just as Rick Jones had done facing countless guns and cannons.
And they shouted a phrase that made Steve's blood run cold:
"Avengers, assemble!"
In that instant, the Cube's energy seemed to activate in reverse. A quantum tunnel tore open in the fabric of space-time.
A figure stepped through and stood before the assembled heroes, directly opposite Steve Rogers.
Another Steve Rogers.
The real one.
The Avengers have assembled!
Far away in Las Vegas, Tony Stark trembled with emotion, his fingers twitching against his armor's controls.
"You're late, Captain," he said, his voice rough with feelings he couldn't quite name.
"Sorry," Steve—the real Steve—replied with a slight smile. "I got a little lost."
The false Steve stared at him in shocked disbelief. "This is impossible! You should no longer exist!"
"The Cube should have eliminated you completely!"
"No matter where I go," the real Steve Rogers said quietly, his voice carrying absolute conviction, "my friends will always bring me back."
Bucky Barnes emerged from the quantum tunnel behind him, followed by Ben Parker.
The imposter no longer cared about Bucky's impossible survival. His entire attention fixed on Ben, his expression twisting with pure hatred.
It's you again!
"Ben Parker!"
His voice cracked with frustrated rage.
"Why do you insist on stopping me?!"
"Can't you see? I'm the one making the world better! I'm creating something meaningful!"
"What does that have to do with me?" Ben shrugged, his tone almost bored.
"I don't care whether you're righteous or evil. I'm not here because of some moral crusade."
He met the false Steve's eyes directly.
"I'm causing you trouble because you're causing me trouble. It's that simple."
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