After settling everything, Luke spent the next few days navigating all sorts of social occasions.
From press conferences held at the White House to military celebration banquets, he had barely stopped moving.
Everyone who saw him was all smiles and praise, the atmosphere harmonious enough that Luke almost developed the bizarre illusion that the war had already been won.
According to the movie's plot, if Captain America had not stopped Hydra's Red Skull from carrying out the bombing plan, the Allied Nations might not have won so smoothly.
"...It is my great honor to present this Medal of Honor, symbolizing courage and fearlessness, to Commodore Luke Cavill! He is a hero of the Allied Nations, and he is our hero!"
On the White House lawn, President Roosevelt, seated in a wheelchair, personally pinned the medal representing the highest military honor onto Luke's chest.
Afterward, the two shook hands warmly and posed for photographs.
By tomorrow, the headlines of every newspaper would probably be covering this very event.
"Though I had heard you were young, I never expected you to be this young! At your age, all I could think about was how to strike up a conversation with the curviest girls at school!"
After the medal ceremony came the White House luncheon. The President's attendants wheeled him over beside Luke.
As the longest-serving and highly regarded leader in American history, he knew very well how to close the distance between people.
Throughout their conversation, The President only spoke of Luke's deceased parents, his difficult years at school, Uncle Frank, and so on.
He came across as a gentle, approachable elder rather than a powerful figure at the top.
"I merely made a modest contribution. I'm no different from the soldiers fighting on the battlefield."
Luke was no slouch when it came to saying the right things.
Politicians always liked to beat around the bush, and even a statesman like Roosevelt was no exception.
"Dwight and I are both grateful for your gift. Luke—I may call you that, yes? I have met many outstanding young people, but among them all, you are still the finest!"
The President finally got to the point and said with a smile, "In return, what should I do for you? This war is not over yet, and much of the... distribution of interests is difficult to settle. Your current position is already conspicuous enough, and climbing any higher will not be easy."
"I want to return to the battlefield and end this war with my own hands."
Luke spoke with firm conviction, without the slightest trace of pretense on his face.
For him, the rank of commodore was not enough.
While the war was still ongoing, the important thing was to seize the chance to rack up more achievements.
Roosevelt might be courteous to him now, but once World War II settled into the dust, if Luke had nothing but the halo of honor over his head and no further value to offer, the other man would absolutely treat him like a stranger.
Right, if nothing unexpected happened, this wheelchair-bound president would likely die suddenly of a cerebral hemorrhage before the war was fully over.
That meant Truman, the Vice President, was the one worth investing in.
A string of thoughts flashed through Luke's mind.
"Uh..."
The President, who had been waiting to hand out a pile of empty promises, froze for a moment. Why was this young commodore not following the usual script?
He was clearly supposed to promise benefits, build a relationship, receive gratitude, and bring him into his inner circle...
How had it turned into a righteous volunteer request for the front lines?
"Then I'll contact the Allied Command."
The President said dryly.
Watching him leave, Luke's smile faded.
He had set his goal long ago: he would not become a mascot for the Federal Government.
Neither politicians nor corporate interests could buy him.
"Who would willingly live beneath another?"
Holding a glass of champagne, Luke curled his lips into a cold smile.
"Commodore, sir! I'm a reporter from the Daily Bugle! Could I take a photograph?"
Seeing The President leave and noticing that none of the attendants were stopping him, the young reporter hurried over.
He struggled to carry a bulky camera, looking at Luke with eager anticipation.
The Daily Bugle?
So it was an old-established newspaper after all?
Luke raised an eyebrow, stood perfectly straight, and put on a warm yet polite smile.
"Of course."
Click!
A flash went off, freezing the moment in time.
The young commodore's upright posture and handsome face would travel across the world with the printed newspapers.
"You don't seem very happy, Steve—oh, no, I should call you Captain America. Who's going to beat up those German bastards? It's the Stars and Stripes man with grand ambitions!"
By the time Luke saw Rogers, a week had passed since his return to New York.
The Allied Command had finally agreed to send the young commodore, who was so eager to get to the front lines, onto the battlefield.
With some free time at last, Luke made a special trip to visit his old friend. He even hummed that familiar tune known in every street and alley.
Rogers, however, did not seem pleased to hear that song. He turned his head away in embarrassment and said, "Stop making fun of me, Luke—or do you want me to call you Superman too? I don't like my life right now at all!"
Backstage at the Broadway Theater, Captain America stood in a skintight costume, holding a Stars and Stripes shield, his face full of dejection.
None of his former unwavering determination and fighting spirit remained.
He had become a tool for Senator Brandt to sell war bonds.
Every day, he cooperated with publicity campaigns, performed onstage, and posed for photographs.
He recited the same lines and repeated the same movements, like a machine!
"You're the hero from comic books and movies, Captain America, the one everyone admires..."
Luke patted the other man's shoulder and deliberately said so.
"They just need an idol! A Joker standing on a stage! You're the hero of the real world! Oh, right, I haven't congratulated you yet, Commodore Cavill!"
Rogers shook his head, pulled himself together, and forced out a smile.
When he had first enlisted, his goal had been to contribute what he could to the war, just like the soldiers stationed on the front lines.
Not to stand on a stage like a Joker, saying meaningless lines and selling the various bonds issued by the country.
"I thought you'd enjoy this feeling. A Broadway Theater star, recognized everywhere you go."
Luke hooked an arm around Rogers's neck and said with a grin.
"But you've changed a lot. Before, I had to bend down just to reach your shoulder."
Rogers turned his face away, ignoring his friend's teasing. In a weary voice, he said, "Do you know, I went to Caspian Training Camp in New Jersey last time—the place where we stayed. Every soldier there was talking about you, about what you went through during training and your legendary accomplishments."
"Really! I'm happy for you, and I'm proud of you! Luke, you deserve this honor! Back then, I really wanted to tell them that you were my friend! But I was afraid those soldiers would ask why you were on the front lines while I was hiding in the rear..."
Rogers, known as "Captain America," laughed at himself.
He was sick of his current life, yet he had no way to resist it.
Obeying orders was a soldier's duty.
And Senator Brandt had obtained the military's approval, so Rogers could only obey.
"Then come to Europe with me."
Just as he had back in Brooklyn, Luke draped an arm over Rogers's shoulder and casually delivered this delightful news.
"Europe... really?"
It took Rogers several seconds to react, his face filled with disbelief.
"But what about the military? The Senator won't agree!"
Soon, Rogers's eyes dimmed again.
He knew Luke wanted to help him, but it would be bad if Luke got into trouble because of it.
Senator Brandt held considerable influence in the committee and had a good relationship with the military.
"Hey, Brooklyn runt, standing before you is a commodore, a hero of the Allied Nations, a rising star personally decorated by The President."
Luke feigned anger, furrowed his brow, and solemnly listed off his titles.
In truth, before driving here, he had already gone to see Senator Brandt.
Upon hearing Luke's purpose, the haughty senator did not say a single word before agreeing without hesitation.
Before Luke left, the man had even begged him not to hold it against him, lowering his stance completely.
That was the true nature of politicians: bullying the weak, fearing the strong, and following the wind!
"Well? Captain America, do you want to go to the European Theater and see just how formidable Hydra really is with me?"
Hearing Luke's invitation, Rogers nodded fiercely, his eyes brimming with delight.
He felt as though his life had found hope again.
"Thank you, Luke."
Rogers said gratefully.
"You should call me Commander."
Luke laughed twice and pulled Captain America out of the Broadway Theater.
"Come on! Let's get a drink! To celebrate Captain America getting a new life, and to celebrate our reunion!"
The two figures walked down the street arm in arm, laughing and talking as they disappeared into the crowd.
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