In the apartment, clothes were scattered all over the floor. One of the eight-centimeter high heels had flown to the door, and the other to the bathroom.
Maria Hill lazily got up, yawning as she went to make a cup of coffee.
Her ten crystal-clear, unpainted toes were covered in deep bite marks—only God knew what had happened last night.
"Steve, let's have some coffee. It's time to go to work."
Steve Rogers didn't feel like going to work at all.
After being a soldier all his life, the last thing he wanted was to continue being a slave to paperwork.
"Well, I'll just take a walk around. I don't want to sit in the office all day—I might distract you from your work," he said tactfully.
Hill happened to be his superior at S.H.I.E.L.D., so technically, she could give him an easy field assignment if she wanted.
Going out to "gather intelligence" sounded good on paper, but what would he actually find?
Plenty of pretty girls walking down Queen Street. Does that count as intelligence?
"Yeah," Hill replied with a faint smile. "If you hang around the office and I can't tell you off, that wouldn't end well."
There was a teasing glint in her eyes, and the curve of her lips gave her the look of a mischievous vixen.
Steve couldn't help but sigh inwardly. Hill's charm was getting dangerously refined—it made him feel a little guilty.
After Hill changed into her uniform, laced up her low-top combat boots, and headed off to work, Steve finally dragged himself out of bed.
He had decided—today, he would slack off properly.
The future was full of monsters and villains. Every single one of them either wanted to destroy the city or the entire world.
"Oh, I'm so tired," he muttered.
"Ding! The host is detected slacking off during work hours. Please continue slacking off for three consecutive days. Upon completion, you will receive a mission."
Steve's eyes lit up. The system's missions were always strange and unpredictable, but the rewards? Absolutely top-tier.
He changed clothes, grabbed his motorcycle keys, and headed out—officially to "work."
Queen Street was a lively shopping district filled with fashionable boutiques and discount stores.
The crowds were endless—after all, everyone loved a good deal.
Steve bought a few burgers, sat on a bench, and ate while people-watching.
One after another, stylish women walked past in high heels, black stockings, or sheer tights. It was almost too much visual information to process.
It's true what they say—men stay young until they die.
Just then, a gust of wind blew a discarded newspaper into his face. Steve caught it effortlessly.
A few nearby women winked at him—he was handsome, strong, and unmistakably confident.
Even if they couldn't marry him, it wouldn't be a loss just to spend some time with him.
He glanced at the newspaper. The headline made his expression tighten.
It was about him—and the name on the paper said it all: The Daily Bugle.
Case closed. Spider-Man's biggest critic was at it again.
"Can a war hero in peacetime bring peace or chaos?"
"Captain America's pursuit of a criminal results in civilian casualties—justice or negligence?"
Both headlines were explosive.
The article that followed described yesterday's incident in vivid detail—seven vehicles damaged, fifteen civilian casualties—and, of course, a photo of Steve on his motorcycle, shield on his back, with terrified civilians behind him.
Steve sighed. Typical. Journalism at its finest—turning white into black and black into white.
He'd seen this trick before. Focus on the drama, ignore the truth. Classic.
Just then, his phone rang. Hill's tone was serious.
"Steve, the Secretary-General wants to see you. Regarding the chaos caused by the vampire incident yesterday, he's personally taking over the case."
Above S.H.I.E.L.D. stood the World Security Council, and its Secretary-General was none other than Alexander Pierce.
"It's fine. Just a small issue," Steve replied, starting up his motorcycle.
As he turned a corner, a gangster suddenly ran out, knocking down a passerby before snatching the man's girlfriend's handbag.
"Robbery! Somebody stop him!" the man shouted desperately.
But the pedestrians just watched and backed away.
Who wanted to be a hero these days? If you got hurt trying to stop a criminal, you'd end up in the hospital—with no reimbursement.
Steve frowned, considering his options. Then he pulled out his shield and hurled it.
Bang!
The shield ricocheted off a shop wall and struck the thief fifty meters away with perfect precision.
"Ah!" the man screamed as he fell to the ground.
Steve leaped eight meters into the air, caught his shield mid-flight, and landed gracefully. The move was flawless.
The surrounding women erupted into screams.
"So handsome!"
"That's amazing!"
"It really is Captain America! I knew he was a good guy!"
Steve picked up the stolen handbag and tossed it back to its owner.
"Be more careful next time. Call the police yourself," he said.
"Thank you! Thank you!" the man stammered, both grateful and embarrassed.
Steve simply got back on his motorcycle and sped off.
Moments later, the man's girlfriend arrived. Seeing Steve disappear down the street, she glared at her fiancé.
"Look at what your family's done! I can't believe your father's still smearing Captain America!"
The man, Dolan Jameson, lowered his head in shame. His father was J. Jonah Jameson, the editor-in-chief of The Daily Bugle.
That very morning, the paper's sales had skyrocketed—thanks to its scandalous anti–Captain America headlines.
But now, Dolan had personally been robbed, ignored by the public, and saved by the very man his family's paper had slandered. He was furious and humiliated.
After leaving the police station, he called his father.
"Dad, I was robbed and beaten! Captain America saved me and helped me get Fanny's wallet back! You were wrong to slander him today!"
Jameson, still puffing on a cigar and laughing at his sales numbers, froze. He didn't know how to respond—but he couldn't back down.
"Nonsense!" he barked. "What if he hired someone to rob you just to play the hero? Don't be fooled!"
"Dad! That's ridiculous!" Dolan snapped. "You're being unreasonable! Publish an apology, or I'll go to the Daily Mail myself!"
For once, Dolan stood up for what he believed in.
He might be meek in front of his fiancée—but when it came to defending Captain America, he wasn't backing down.
A touching moment between a father and son… with a headline that practically wrote itself.