After getting off the hospital bed, Locke slowly stretched his limbs, feeling the stiffness seep out of his joints as his muscles finally came back to life. He had been lying there for far too long, to the point where even his bones felt numb, and more than once he had needed to deliberately aggravate his own injuries just to maintain the illusion of being an ordinary patient. Every small act of self-inflicted damage had been calculated, controlled, and necessary to keep his condition believable.
All of it had been part of the act. He needed to appear normal, limited, human.
Fortunately, the timing had finally aligned, and today he had been officially cleared to leave the hospital bed. His "recovery" had reached the exact point required—neither too fast to raise suspicion nor too slow to be useless.
A congressman approached him with a broad, practiced smile, the kind that never quite reached the eyes but still carried the weight of authority and expectation. His posture was relaxed, but there was a subtle urgency beneath the surface, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment.
"Colonel Locke, are you feeling better now?"
"Much better," Locke replied with an easy smile, his tone casual and reassuring. He knew exactly what these politicians wanted to hear, and more importantly, how they wanted to see it delivered.
As expected, the congressman's smile widened, clearly satisfied with the response. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and he gestured forward, leading the way out of the military hospital.
Under his guidance, Locke walked out into the open air, the sunlight hitting his face for the first time in days. A black jeep was already waiting, engine idling quietly. Without wasting time, they got in, and the vehicle pulled away, disappearing down the road.
…
At a military camp deep within the United States, Locke stepped out and immediately scanned the group waiting for him. His eyes moved quickly, sharp and observant, taking in every face before settling on a familiar one.
Howard Stark stood among them, his appearance unmistakably reminiscent of the man who would one day become Iron Man. There was the same confidence, the same sharp intelligence in his gaze. Beside him stood Chester and Carter, along with several other key figures, including members of Congress.
"The final founder of our Strategic Homeland Defense Attack and Logistics Support Agency has finally arrived!"
Chester was the first to speak, clapping his hands with enthusiasm. Howard and the others followed suit, polite applause mixed with genuine curiosity. Even the congressmen joined in, their expressions carefully composed.
Locke raised a brow slightly, glancing around at the assembled group before speaking in a calm, direct tone.
"If you're all waiting for me like this, I assume there's a mission that requires my involvement?"
"Colonel Locke guessed correctly," one of the congressmen said immediately, stepping forward with a look of admiration. "We are currently facing a difficult situation, and after careful consideration, we believe only you are qualified to handle it."
While he spoke, Chester and the others exchanged subtle glances, hesitation flickering across their faces. It was clear that not everyone was entirely comfortable with what was about to be asked.
Howard stepped forward, his expression turning serious as he met Locke's gaze.
"Our most important serum has been stolen," he said plainly. "According to intelligence gathered by our agents, it has likely fallen into the hands of Hydra—the organization operating behind the German army."
"Hydra?" Locke echoed, his tone carrying just enough confusion to be convincing.
The group quickly filled him in, explaining everything they knew. They spoke of Hydra's hidden influence, its advanced technology, and the dangerous ambitions of its leader. As one of the agency's founders, Locke was given full access to the information, along with the underlying reason for the agency's creation.
"Alien technology, super weapons, and a leader known as the Red Skull… someone who's already been transformed," Locke repeated slowly, his expression growing more serious as he processed the details. His eyes flickered with thought, as if weighing the risks and consequences.
Then, just as quickly, his demeanor shifted. Resolve settled in his gaze, firm and decisive.
"I'll take the mission to recover the serum."
The words landed like a shockwave, drawing immediate reactions from everyone present. Surprise, admiration, and even a hint of disbelief flashed across their faces. In Locke's current position, he had no obligation to personally take on such a dangerous assignment, yet he had accepted it without hesitation.
Even Howard, who had only just met him, couldn't hide his respect.
"Colonel, do you want to prepare first? Maybe take some more time to rest?" Carter asked softly, her brows furrowing with concern. Among everyone present, she was one of the few who genuinely worried about him rather than the mission's outcome.
Locke simply waved a hand, dismissing the suggestion with a relaxed smile. Then, as if the thought had just occurred to him, he asked casually, "How's Steve doing? I saw some reports about him in the papers."
"Steve is… contributing in his own way," a congressman interjected quickly, cutting off any further discussion. His tone was polite, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. He had no intention of allowing Locke to interfere with their carefully arranged plan for Steve—the so-called morale campaign.
Given Locke's reputation, rank, and influence, any objection from him would be difficult to ignore.
"…I see. I hope he fulfills his role," Locke replied evenly, his expression unreadable.
He knew exactly what was happening. Steve was being paraded around to boost morale, to shape public perception, and ultimately, to allow them to study and extract the serum from his body. It was all part of the system.
Before long, preparations were complete. Around twenty to thirty elite soldiers assembled in front of Locke, standing in formation with disciplined precision. Their eyes were filled with admiration and excitement, clearly aware of who would be leading them.
Locke's gaze swept across them, pausing briefly on a familiar face before he spoke.
"I'll be joining you on this mission," he said, his voice steady but not overbearing. "Think of me as one of you. We'll go in together… and we'll come back together."
"Return victorious!"
The soldiers shouted in unison, their voices filled with fervor. The energy among them surged instantly, morale skyrocketing at the realization that the legendary Colonel Locke would be fighting alongside them.
Above, the congressmen exchanged satisfied smiles. This was exactly the effect they had hoped for.
On the other side, however, the agency's founders remained silent, their expressions heavy. Unlike the politicians, they understood just how dangerous this mission truly was.
Locke climbed into the military truck, and soon, the convoy began to move. As it disappeared into the distance, every soldier and officer present stood in silence, watching until the vehicle was completely out of sight.
…
Days passed in relentless motion. From military trucks to transport aircraft, the journey continued without pause.
Inside the aircraft, Locke stood near the open hatch, staring down at the dense forest stretching endlessly below. His heartbeat remained steady, controlled, but there was a faint flicker of anticipation in his eyes.
His first high-altitude jump, and it had to be at maximum difficulty.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward and leapt.
Behind him, the soldiers followed immediately, one after another, their movements precise and practiced. As they descended, they spread out in midair, gliding through the darkness before deploying their parachutes at low altitude. One by one, they adjusted their trajectories, converging toward the designated landing zone.
Locke hit the ground first, his boots sinking slightly into the soft soil. The moment his feet touched down, a quiet sense of relief passed through him. The most dangerous part—the exposure in midair—was over.
He knew Hydra possessed weapons powered by the Cosmic Cube, technology far beyond conventional warfare. If they had been detected during the descent, a single shot could have wiped them out before they ever reached the ground.
Quickly regrouping, Locke located the rest of the squad as they landed nearby. The soldiers moved with silent efficiency, forming up around him without a word, their eyes fixed on him as they awaited orders.
After a brief check of weapons and ammunition, Locke gave a small nod and moved out, leading the way into the forest.
They advanced swiftly through the dense terrain, their movements almost ghostlike. Each soldier was among the best the army had to offer, trained in stealth and survival. In the darkness, they blended seamlessly with their surroundings, weaving through the trees with practiced precision.
The forest was quiet, but not silent. The faint rustle of leaves, the distant calls of nocturnal animals, and the subtle crunch of footsteps underfoot created a constant backdrop of sound.
Then, gradually, something else emerged.
Voices.
Low, indistinct at first, but unmistakably human.
Locke slowed to a stop, raising a hand slightly. At his signal, the squad immediately shifted formation, spreading out in an arc as they moved to surround the source of the sound.
....
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