The scene shifted to New York, to a secret S.H.I.E.L.D. branch base.
Five floors underground, a hospital room had been deliberately furnished in the style of the 1940s.
An old-fashioned phonograph was playing a baseball game between the Brooklyn Dodgers and the Philadelphia Phillies.
On the hospital bed lay a blond man with an exceptionally powerful build and perfectly defined muscles.
His breathing was steady and deep, as though he were merely taking a long afternoon nap.
Inside the surveillance room.
Nick Fury stood with his hands behind his back, his lone eye fixed on the hospital bed beyond the one-way glass.
To his left stood S.H.I.E.L.D. Deputy Director Maria Hill.
To his right were Natasha Romanoff, dressed in a tight combat suit, and Clint Barton, known as Hawkeye, carrying a custom compound bow.
"Sir, the subject's heart rate is rising steadily. His brainwave activity has passed the threshold. He's emerging from deep hibernation." Hill looked at the tablet in her hands, a trace of excitement impossible to hide in her voice.
"Seventy years," Fury murmured, his gaze filled with conflicting emotions. "This world is finally getting its first superhero back."
"Director, are you sure he can adjust to the world as it is now?" Natasha folded her arms, her long auburn hair swaying slightly. "World War II wasn't even over when he went to sleep. Now we've got monsters that can tear buildings apart with their bare hands."
"He'll have to adjust, whether he can or not." Fury snorted.
"This world is changing faster and faster. That bastard Yang Ming may be able to fight, but he's an uncontrollable ticking time bomb, not to mention a money-grubbing bloodsucker. We need a real shield, a banner people can rally behind."
"He's awake!" Hawkeye suddenly said, his gaze as sharp as