Inside a Hydra transport plane over the Atlantic Ocean.
Dead silence.
Only the engines' monotonous roar, mixed with the faint scents of blood and ozone, reminded everyone in the cabin what a brutal battle they had barely escaped alive.
The soldiers sat separately, and no one spoke. The oppressive atmosphere was almost tangible.
"Is that monster... still alive?"
Rumlow muttered to himself, instinctively touching his neck. It seemed to still retain the suffocating sensation of being gripped by sand and stone.
That question made everyone's hearts sink.
After a long while, Miles slowly spoke. "He should... still be alive."
Rumlow took a deep breath and asked again, "Then what should we call him?"
"Apocalypse..."
Miles had barely said the name when he suddenly stopped, his brows drawing tightly together.
"No, perhaps not."
"Perhaps?" Steve caught the uncertainty in his words. His blue eyes turned toward him. "You aren't sure either?"
"That guy resembles a special existence from our world, but he also seems somewhat different."
As Miles spoke, he raised a hand and pressed hard against his temple. A sharp stab of pain made him grunt. "Damn... there are a lot of things... I can't seem to remember clearly..."
There must be something wrong with my memories...
I need to find a solution...
"Something's wrong with you, kid." Bucky, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke. His gaze settled on Miles. "You're very uneasy."
Having once been brainwashed and stripped of his memories, he was especially sensitive to this kind of soul-deep feeling of being torn apart.
"Thanks for your concern, Mr. Barnes..." Miles shook his head, forcefully suppressing the chaos in his mind before turning toward the other side.
In a corner of the cabin, Selene was watching over the unconscious Scott.
"Ms. Selene, how is Scott doing?"