"Why are you here to pick me up? New York is my turf. There's absolutely no need to make such a big fuss."
The moment Howard got off the ship, he bought a newspaper and a hamburger, eagerly savoring civilization again. After stumbling around in the rainforest for so long, he felt like he was about to turn into a savage.
Fury was the one waiting for him at the docks. He had not come alone; several other members of the Howling Commandos were hiding in the shadows along the street.
"Captain. Dr. Stark." Fury tugged at the corner of his mouth and greeted them both flatly.
Steve smiled and nodded. He searched the crowd for Peggy, but did not see her.
Howard took a bite of his hamburger and glanced at the newspaper in his hand. The front-page headline read, "Agency Held Responsible for Year-End Tragedy Ordered to Disband." It did not say so outright, but anyone in the know would understand that the SSR had been dissolved.
Then he looked at Fury again and understood.
"Ahem, so you and the Howling Commandos are unemployed, huh? Looking for work? No problem. My Stark Industries can hire you as security guards. Fury, you can be the head of security. Your annual salary will be this much."
As he spoke, Howard held up two fingers and waved them before Fury like rabbit ears, meaning twenty thousand dollars.
Though he was still wearing a tattered suit beneath a sailor's coat, when it came to money, his confidence was overflowing.
In 1955, the average annual salary in the United States was around 4,500 dollars. Howard did not believe that figure could have risen much just because a year had passed. Twenty thousand dollars a year—many mercenaries could throw away their lives in Africa