When Captain America appeared outside the base, everyone froze. Night Thrasher was the first to react, crying out, "Captain America?! You... are you Captain America?!!"
"Oh my God!!" Microbe's voice trembled as he said, "You're the living Captain America! They said you weren't dead, that you'd come back, but I'd never seen you before... God, am I hallucinating??!"
Speedball's jaw hung open for a long time. He stood beside a display case, which held mostly Captain America figures he had collected at great expense.
The others on the team had envied his collection more times than they could count, and now Captain America himself stood before him.
"Captain America!! You... you... I mean, why are you here? Before, we wanted to apply to join the Avengers, but they said they weren't taking anyone right now. I've dreamed of meeting you. Can I get your autograph?!"
Speedball excitedly began rummaging through the drawer beneath the cabinet for paper and a pen, then darted through the crowd and rushed up to Captain America, wanting his autograph.
But Steve was nothing like the figures in the display case—strong, brave, and full of vitality. On the contrary, he looked utterly exhausted.
Even through the mask, Speedball could tell that Steve seemed to have suddenly grown old. Beneath his still-youthful appearance, the weathered air of his soul had gradually emerged.
"Autographs can wait." He spoke, his voice no longer so clear but somewhat hoarse. "I came to ask you something, about Spider-Man's death."
The lively atmosphere in the base stalled for a moment, but Speedball suddenly erupted. He threw the notebook in his hand to the floor and said, "Spider-Man! Spider-Man! The whole world is focused on Spider-Man!! Why does no one care about us?!!!"
"We were heroes fighting criminals too! We were injured in