"The baron is right!" The base supervisor — a scientist by training who knew nothing about HYDRA's true secrets — quickly nodded, letting go of his earlier doubts about Schmidt's possible schemes.
"The Führer's situation is deteriorating," Strucker continued coldly. "On the Eastern Front, the Soviets are pushing us back day after day. The Western Front has reached a stalemate under the combined Allied forces. What Germany needs now is a decisive turning point. That means our progress must accelerate."
"The Valkyrie Goddess is nearly complete. The bombs must keep pace — your production rate is too slow. I want it increased by sixty percent, starting immediately."
Without the Tesseract's energy-conversion technology, even HYDRA's newest high-yield warheads required massive numbers to match the destructive power of a single Tesseract-powered bomb. To annihilate dozens of cities, they needed hundreds.
"But the workers are all prisoners," the supervisor said nervously. "I doubt they have the strength—"
"Then work them until they drop," Strucker interrupted, his tone icy and cruel. "We'll always have more prisoners."
"Hi."
Steve looked up, startled. Standing before him — smiling faintly beneath her rain-slicked hair — was Agent Peggy Carter.
"Peggy? What are you doing here?" He stood abruptly, eyes wide. It was like a dream — seeing her again, here of all places.
"In theory, I'm not supposed to be here," she said lightly, folding her raincoat and sitting down on a nearby supply crate.
Carter and Colonel Phillips had arrived in secret with the Strategic Science Reserve to investigate HYDRA's movements. Their mission was classified at the highest level; even other Allied forces weren't aware of it.
"Nice show you put on." Her lips curved teasingly.
"Uh… yeah," Steve muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Had to improvise a little."
Just remembering that humiliation — tomatoes, laughter, jeers — made his face burn.
"My usual audience is… well…" he sighed. "Kids."
Senator Brandt had pulled him from the Reserve's hands to create a patriotic icon — Captain America, a walking billboard to sell war bonds. His audience had always been middle-class families, parents bringing their children to cheer for the symbol of American strength. They clapped for a show.
But real soldiers?
They only respected those who fought beside them, bled beside them — not some performer in tights pretending to punch Hitler.
"I heard they're calling you 'America's New Hope,'" Peggy said with a small smirk.
"I boost war bond sales ten percent in every state," Steve replied dryly. There was no pride in his tone.
"Sounds like Senator Brandt's handiwork," Peggy said, rolling her eyes. She had little patience for politicians.
"At least he's letting me do something," Steve muttered. "Colonel Phillips just wanted to lock me in a lab."
After Dr. Erskine's "death," the official plan had been to send Steve to a new research division for further study. But Senator Brandt had seen his value and used his political power to draft him into propaganda instead. And in that, Brandt had succeeded brilliantly.
Peggy glanced down at the sketchbook on Steve's lap — a doodle of a clownish monkey in a star-spangled costume riding a unicycle. Her expression darkened slightly.
"So those are your choices now?" she asked. "Lab rat… or dancing monkey?"
"You're capable of far more than this, Steve."
Back then, they'd hidden the truth about Erskine's survival and the serum's success to protect their secret operation — just as Chen Mo had advised. Now, half a year later, with the cover story holding firm, it was time to bring the "Super Soldier" back into the field.
Steve, of course, knew none of this. Her words only made him lower his gaze.
"What's wrong?" Peggy asked softly.
"You know," he said quietly, "I've dreamed all my life about fighting for my country — standing on the front lines, making a difference."
He gave a bitter laugh. "And when I finally get the chance… I end up wearing a tight suit and pretending to fight Hitler on stage."
Peggy opened her mouth, but before she could reply, a commotion erupted nearby.
Both turned. A military ambulance, marked with a red cross, had just screeched to a halt near the field hospital. Medics jumped out, unloading a stretcher with a badly wounded soldier.
"Looks like they've just come from a tough fight," Steve murmured.
Peggy's expression darkened. "Those poor men… they've seen hell."
"What happened?" Steve asked, sensing there was more behind her words.
She hesitated briefly, then spoke — there was no point in hiding it anymore.
"HYDRA sent a strike force. Two hundred men went out to meet them. Fewer than fifty came back."
She looked at him seriously. "Some of the survivors from your show — they're from the 107th Infantry Regiment. The rest… were either killed or captured."
Steve froze, his pulse spiking.
"The 107th?" he repeated, voice sharp.
Peggy blinked. "Yes. Why—?"
But Steve didn't answer. His heart had already leapt into panic. Bucky.
Without another word, he spun on his heel and sprinted through the rain toward the command tent.
He burst inside, dripping wet, startling the officers at their desks.
Behind the main table sat Colonel Phillips himself — the same man who'd once wanted him locked away in a lab.
"Colonel Phillips!" Steve blurted, barely catching his breath. "I need the casualty report from the Battle of Bolzano!"
Phillips narrowed his eyes. "You don't give orders around here, son."
"I just need to know—" Steve's voice cracked. "Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 107th Infantry. What happened to him?"
The Colonel's expression shifted slightly. So that's what this was about.
Of course — Carter must've told him.
Phillips shot Peggy, who was standing just behind Steve, a hard glare. She pretended to be busy adjusting her coat, but her silence gave her away.
"We'll talk about that later, Agent," the Colonel said coldly, pointing a pen at her before turning back to Steve.