Steve Rogers lay in his hospital bed.
He didn't die; the Super Soldier Serum was repairing his broken body like a swarm of industrious worker ants.
The bleeding from the spleen has stopped, and the broken ribs are slowly healing.
But the physical pain was far less intense than the mental turmoil.
Steve recalled the information the black man who claimed to be the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.. showed him after he came out of the ice.
The file included a blurry black-and-white video.
That was a secret Soviet Union laboratory.
Bucky Barnes, the guy he remembered with a roguish smile who would fight for him in the alley, was strapped to an electric chair.
An electric current passes through the brain.
A scream.
incontinence.
Forgetting.
Then came the indifferent voice of the researcher in the white coat.
With each word he uttered, the light in Bucky's eyes dimmed a little.
In the end, those eyes became as cloudy as a dead fish, leaving only the instinct to kill.
This isn't the scariest part.
The most terrifying thing is the latest report—an analysis of the " Knight Form ".
That madman, who was suspected to be a descendant of Red Skull, not only repaired Bucky, but also turned him into a complete monster.
Bio-armor, tentacles... that
That's not a power that humans should possess.
" Bucky, what have you been through...?"
Steve closed his eyes.
He lost.
He didn't lose because of a lack of strength, but because he was still that small Brooklyn kid, while Bucky had been chewed up and spat out by this crazy world, turning into a heartless knife.
Is this still Bucky?
"Yes." Steve opened his eyes, Flame rekindling in his deep blue pupils. "He's still alive. As long as he's alive, I can save him. Even if it means turning the world upside down."
This almost foolish stubbornness is Captain America's most valuable quality, and also the biggest reason why S.H.I.E.L.D.. thinks he's mentally ill.
Thump, thump.
A very faint knock.
Unlike the rapid and purposeful knocking of secret agents, this sound was slow and soft.
Steve turned his head away.
The heavy, bulletproof glass door was pushed open.
There was no wheelchair, and no caregiver to help.
A woman entered.
She wore a dark brown vintage trench coat, her hair was gray, and her face was etched with the lines of time, but her back was still ramrod straight.
Those brown eyes were no longer clear, but they were still sharp enough to see right through people's hearts.
Steve looked at her.
Time seems to have shifted out of place.
He went back to the bar, and the girl in the red dress and red lipstick was smiling at him.
" Peggy..."
Steve tried to sit up, but the pain made him groan and fall back onto the bed.
He panicked.
This superhero, who remained unfazed even when facing Hydra's army on the battlefield, looked like a child who had done something wrong.
He instinctively tried to cover his swollen and deformed face, and to hide the mess of tubes on his body.
"Don't move, soldier."
Peggy Carter's voice was hoarse, carrying a dignified air honed by time.
She walked to the bedside, leaned her cane against the bedside table, and then slowly sat down in the uncomfortable hospital chair.
You're late.
Peggy looked at Steve and gave him a complicated smile. "You haven't fulfilled your promise to dance yet."
Steve's eyes reddened, overwhelmed with guilt. "I'm sorry, Peggy... I... I fell into the sea, I thought..."
Steve was rambling incoherently, like an awkward recruit.
I couldn't keep my appointment.
"I know." Peggy held out her hand.
That hand was covered in age spots, the skin was loose, and the veins were prominent.
Steve held it carefully.
His hands were still young and strong, while Peggy's hands were withered and thin.
Two hands clasped together.
This scene cruelly demonstrates what it means for "things to have changed."
They say you got beaten half to death outside.
Peggy patted Steve's hand gently, her tone teasing, just like back in the military.
"What? You've forgotten how to fight after taking a nap?"
"That's Bucky," Steve explained urgently. "That's Bucky, Peggy! He's alive! But Hydra killed him..."
"I know."
Peggy interrupted him. Her eyes were eerily calm.
"I am one of the founders of S.H.I.E.L.D.., Steve. I have seen the file on the Winter Soldier."
Steve was stunned. "You know? Then why...?"
"Why didn't you save him?" Peggy sighed, her eyes growing deep. "Because the world isn't a fairy tale, Steve. Some things, when they're broken, can be fixed. But some things, when they're broken... they're just broken."
"No!" Steve retorted excitedly, " Bucky is being controlled! If we can awaken his memories..."
"Then what?"
Peggy's voice suddenly turned stern.
"And then let him live with the memories of those decades of killing? Let him remember how he strangled innocent people with his own hands? Let him remember how he became a monster?"
" Steve, sometimes you're so kind it makes me want to shoot you."
Peggy pulled her hand out, took a handkerchief from her trench coat pocket, and gently wiped the sweat from Steve's forehead.
"You're still that short guy from Brooklyn, always trying to hide in front of everyone. But look out the window."
Peggy pointed to the world outside the sealed window.
Sixty years have passed. The Nazis have fallen, the Soviet Union has collapsed. But has the world become a better place?
"This is an age of madness. Vought International has turned superheroes into commodities, Hydra lurks in the Shadow like parasites, and then there are aliens, Mutant..."
"You charged forward with your shield because you thought you represented justice. But in Bucky's eyes, you were just an outdated piece of furniture blocking his way."
Steve fell silent.
He stared at the ceiling, the bright white light stinging his eyes.
"Then what should we do?" Steve's voice was low and hoarse. "Give up on him?"
"No."
Peggy shook her head.
"If you really want to save him, Steve, then don't treat him like your childhood friend."
Treat him as an enemy. Defeat him, tear him apart, even... kill him.
Peggy leaned down and gently kissed the scarred face.
This kiss spanned sixty years; it contained no passion, only farewell.
"Only when you are more ruthless than that monster do you have the right to talk about salvation."
Peggy turned and walked towards the door.
"I'm leaving, Steve. I'm not fit to stay in the ICU any longer; death is already calling my number."
" Peggy..." Steve looked at the hunched back.
"Now that you're awake, don't go back to sleep. This world may be a complete mess, but someone still has to mend it."
The door closed.
Silence returned to the room.
Steve Rogers looked at his hands.
The hands were trembling, but not from fear, but from something breaking down and then rebuilding.
He remembered Bucky's eyes.
He remembered the monster that had trampled him underfoot.
"More ruthless than a monster...?"