The Italian front, a temporary Allied camp.
The raucous touring stage had been dismantled.
The reality of war struck Steve Rogers across the face like a slap.
He was no longer the stage idol who lip-synced under the spotlight and performed comedy skits with a troupe of dancing girls.
Here, he was just a puppet in a costume, utterly out of place amid the cruelty around him.
"Captain, have some water."
Jim Hammond held out a military canteen.
"Why... why are they hurt? Why didn't they dodge those flying pieces of metal?"
Steve took the canteen, but he didn't drink.
He looked at Jim's innocent face.
For a moment, he didn't know how to explain human frailty or the absurdity of war.
All he could do was answer bitterly, "Because they're soldiers, Jim. Protecting others comes at a price."
Just then, an officer wearing a lieutenant colonel's insignia hurried over.
"Captain Rogers, the 107th Infantry Regiment was ambushed by Hydra forces during a raid. Tomorrow's performance is canceled."
The 107th Regiment!
Bucky!
His closest friend, Bucky Barnes, was in the 107th Regiment!
"Where are they?!"
Steve grabbed the lieutenant colonel's arm.
"We don't know."
"Enemy territory. There are Hydra secret bases all over the Austrian border. We're working on a rescue plan, but that takes time! What you need to do now is stay here and prepare for the next troop entertainment show!"
"A show?"
Steve's voice trembled.
He glared at the colonel and asked, enunciating every word.
"My brother is in an enemy base, and I don't even know if he's alive. You want me to... perform?"
"That's an order, Captain!"
The lieutenant colonel's voice rose an octave.
"You're not a soldier, you're just a symbol! Your job is to boost morale, not get yourself killed! Acting alone will only disrupt our plans!"
With that, the lieutenant colonel ignored him, turned, and strode away.
Steve stood rooted to the spot.
A symbol?
A puppet?
He looked down at his ridiculous stars-and-stripes uniform, and a humiliation and helplessness unlike anything he had ever known swept over him.
Was everything he had done really nothing more than a show for people to watch?
Night deepened.
Steve tossed and turned, his mind filled with images of Bucky.
He couldn't wait.
He couldn't wait another minute.
The military bureaucracy would get Bucky killed. He had to do something.
He thought of someone.
The man who could always work miracles, the man who could do anything.
Lynn Morris.
Steve quietly slipped out of his tent and went to the camp's only secure communications room.
He didn't know Lynn's number.
But Steve knew that as long as he gave his name, the call would be connected to Lynn.
The call went through quickly.
Lynn's calm voice came from the other end.
"Steve? It's late. What's wrong?"
"Lynn..."
Steve told him everything about the 107th Regiment and Bucky.
He poured out all his anxiety and anger, and told him about the military's cold-hearted order forbidding him to act.
He had prepared himself to be dissuaded and reassured, even lectured like a child who didn't know any better.
Lynn fell silent for a moment on the other end of the line.
When he spoke, his voice carried a gravity Steve had never heard before.
"I understand, Steve."
"There are some things you can't count on those generals sitting in their offices to do. Some things we have to do ourselves."
He understood!
It wasn't dismissal or empty reassurance, but understanding and support from the bottom of his heart!
Steve's eyes grew hot. He felt he had found the only person in the world who understood him.
"Lynn, I..."
"Say no more, Captain."
Lynn cut him off.
"Get your shield ready. I'll have Jim assist you. He'll light the way ahead for you."
"In one hour, an unmarked transport plane will be waiting for you on the backup runway east of the camp."
Lynn's arrangements were crisp and decisive, without a moment wasted.
"Thank you, Lynn!"
Steve's voice was full of gratitude.
"We're partners, Steve."
Lynn's voice sounded sincere.
"Go bring your brother back."
After hanging up, Steve felt strength flood back into his body.
Lynn put down the phone, his face expressionless.
He walked over to the Prometheus's control console. The screen displayed a live satellite image and an interior layout of a Hydra factory on the Austrian border.
Using the vehicle's phone, he dialed Tom, the editor-in-chief of Stars and Stripes.
"Tom, asleep yet?"
"God! Lynn! For you, I'd stay awake twenty-four hours a day!"
"Good."
Lynn looked at the red dot on the screen.
"Contact your front-line reporters. I've got a headline for you that will bring all of Hydra to its knees in prayer."
A Hydra armaments factory on the Austrian border.
A piercing alarm shattered the quiet night sky!
On the west side of the factory, a fuel depot suddenly erupted in a towering blaze!
"West side! The west-side fuel depot exploded! Put out the fire, now!"
"All guards to the west side!"
The Hydra soldiers descended into chaos.
Most of their forces were drawn to the bizarre fire.
At the other end of the factory.
Steve Rogers smashed through the flimsy iron door to the prison block.
At a glance, he saw the prisoners of war, barely clinging to life in their cages.
Steve smashed the cell doors open with his shield and roared at the hundreds of captured soldiers behind him, "Everyone who can move, follow me! We're going home!"
The desperate prisoners erupted with a staggering will to survive and charged out after Captain America.
During their retreat, the remnants of the defeated force came under a fierce attack from the remaining guards.
Steve took point, protecting the comrades behind him with his shield.
Just then, a blazing wall of fire descended from the sky, stretching between them and their pursuers!
Jim Hammond, the Human Torch, floated in midair, his whole body engulfed in roaring flames.
He thrust out both hands, and two raging dragons of fire swallowed every Hydra soldier and armored vehicle pursuing them.
"Oh, God..."
The rescued soldiers all stared in shock.
They knelt on the ground, repeatedly crossing themselves as they gazed at the figure in the flames.
Seeing the Human Torch make his move, the captain hesitated no longer. He turned and rushed into the armaments factory to look for Bucky.
On a hidden hillside in the distance.
The reporter Tom had sent used trembling hands to capture each of these scenes forever on film.
Captain America was no longer a clown on a stage.
He had entered the enemy camp alone and rescued hundreds of his comrades.
The Human Torch had used flames like divine punishment to pave the hero's road home.
Once the report was published, the entire United States erupted.
Overnight, Steve Rogers went from a "stage idol" to a universally admired "battlefield hero."
Faced with a tidal wave of public opinion, the Pentagon could no longer send him back to the stage.
Steve formally submitted a request to front-line command, asking to be sent to the front lines.
Meanwhile, on another battlefield far away, Soldier Boy was advancing unstoppably on the Western Front.
The Human Torch, meanwhile, was transferred to the Eastern Front.
The three "gods" launched their fiercest all-out assault on Hydra from three directions.
The Alps.
Red Skull looked at the reports on the screen, showing defeat after defeat, and at the three figures representing "strength," "flame," and "spirit."
Furious, he smashed the monitor in front of him.