Brooklyn, an old-fashioned boxing gym.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The dull thuds of blows echoed through the empty gym.
Steve Rogers, wearing a gray T-shirt soaked through with sweat, was venting his excess energy on a punching bag that had long since been deformed.
Every punch was heavy and powerful, each carrying an indescribable sense of repression.
Knock! Knock! Someone knocked on the door.
"The door's unlocked." Steve did not turn around, maintaining his rhythm. "If you're selling insurance, I already bought some."
"I'm here to sell you a job, Captain." Jessica pushed the door open and entered.
Steve stopped, steadying the still-swaying punching bag before turning around.
He looked at Jessica, a gentle smile appearing on his face.
"Jones... no, Vought's president now, right? I saw the news." Steve picked up a towel and wiped away his sweat. "Congratulations on the promotion. But since when did Vought start making house calls?"
"Anthony isn't here." Jessica got straight to the point; she had never learned to dance around the issue. "He went to Asgard. I'm running Vought now."
Steve's movements paused, and concern appeared on his face. "Asgard? Didn't the news say..."
"The news is for idiots." Jessica walked over to the boxing ring and leaned against the ropes. "He fought Thor to help me, then got taken away by the Bifrost."
Steve looked at her. The keen instincts unique to a World War II veteran allowed him to see through the strength Jessica was forcing herself to maintain.
"You need help?"
"No, I don't. Vought doesn't." Jessica stubbornly lifted her chin. "But those kids do."
"Kids?"
"Who Is the Next Superhero?" Jessica said. "I know you hate that show. I know you think it treats heroes like performing monkeys. But Steve, many of those contestants with superpowers are sixteen- or