The Hydra's First Appearance

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the future world built by Stark Industries! Do you believe that a wave of new technology is sweeping in—perhaps a few years from now, cars won't even need to touch the ground anymore!"

Taking the microphone, he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his lips, and Iron Man's father began his performance.

He seemed to revel in the gaze of the crowd below the stage, one moment verbally promoting his company's innovative technology, the next beckoning a pretty young woman to remove the four wheels of a red car.

Standing on stage, Howard Stark didn't resemble a scientist so much as a magician well-versed in the art of performance.

He knew exactly what methods to use to capture the audience's attention.

"Stark Industries' latest anti-gravity technology—all of this will become possible!"

Howard smiled as he powered up the instrument.

The car, stripped of its wheels, slowly rose into the air.

This miraculous sight made the audience below hold their breath.

Luke's lips twitched slightly; he had no interest in Howard Stark's little gadgets.

Though the man was arguably one of the smartest geniuses in the world right now, he shared a trait with the yet-to-mature Iron Man, Tony Stark.

They both had a common characteristic, or rather, a hereditary flaw in their family's personality—

They were hard to deal with!

Perhaps that could be chalked up to a common ailment among geniuses!

Seizing the opportunity, Luke quietly slipped out of the crowd, shaking off the pointless entanglements of the young women.

The warm embrace of youthful vitality—he'd leave that for Bucky to enjoy, who was about to head to England to serve his country.

Turning his head casually, Luke caught sight of Rogers's frail silhouette.

He left the crowd gathered around the stage and walked toward the nearby recruitment station.

Luke took a deep breath, thinking to himself that this was the beginning of Captain America.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, pondering what he should do.

Sure, lying low and developing was the right path.

But who knew when the golden finger would arrive.

Besides, ending up on a Marvel set just to live an ordinary, peaceful life seemed like a bit of a waste of the transmigration slot.

Lost in thought, Luke spotted another figure—an old man.

With graying hair, slightly balding, and glasses perched on his nose.

Abraham Erskine!

Luke recognized him.

The developer of the Super Soldier Serum, the German scientist who single-handedly created the Red Skull, leader of Hydra, slowly walked into that recruitment station.

"Hmm! Looks like there are followers!"

Just as Luke was about to follow, his expression suddenly turned serious.

He saw that behind Abraham Erskine, several men in black hats were tailing him.

Their waists bulged, their expressions tense, glancing left and right.

They didn't seem like ordinary tourists, nor did they fit the role of accompanying bodyguards.

"Hydra?"

A thought flashed through Luke's mind.

As the developer of the Super Soldier Serum, Dr. Erskine was bound to be a thorn in Hydra's side, a splinter in their flesh.

The Red Skull would do everything in his power to eliminate this threat!

Once the Allied Nations got their hands on the Super Soldier Serum and mass-produced super soldiers, the outcome of this war would be beyond doubt.

As these thoughts raced through his mind, Luke also stepped into that recruitment station.

"Steve..."

Bucky snapped out of Howard Stark's performance and turned to look for his gloomy friend, only to find he had already disappeared.

"Luke..."

He looked for Luke next, but he too was nowhere to be seen.

"What's going on! Where did everyone run off to!"

Bucky muttered, then was dragged by the remaining female companions toward other exhibition areas.

"The battlefield isn't for you."

Inside the recruitment station, Rogers was rejected once again.

The officer in charge of enlisting soldiers took one look at his frail build and stated his stance without a second thought, not even glancing at the filled-out forms.

Though Rogers argued with all his conviction and sincerity, no matter what he said, the officer only shook his head.

In the officer's eyes, sending this frail little man to the battlefield was no different from murder.

"There's plenty you can do without joining the army. We're desperate for labor right now—you can work in a factory making weapons for the front, or find some other job!" the officer said impatiently.

He pushed Rogers' enlistment form back, his face wearing a cold expression that said, "No discussion."

"War isn't a brawl! On the battlefield, you'd only hold others back! Better to stay put on the home front!"

"Be grateful, kid! No need to risk your life, dodging bullets and shells—that's a blessing plenty would kill for!"

Looking at the scrawny little man before him, the recruiting officer said just that. He couldn't understand why the guy insisted on enlisting. Was staying home so bad?

No danger to your life, no need to experience the cruelty of war.

As precious as medals of honor might be, could they matter more than staying alive?

Everyone knew by now that the Allied Nations and the Axis Powers were locked in a brutal fight.

Every battlefield was like a meat grinder, endlessly devouring flesh and blood from both sides.

The corpses filling the trenches—only God knew the exact number!

"Sir! I want to serve my country! I want to do something! I know I can do something..."

The recruiting officer avoided Rogers' determined gaze and shook his head again.

Everything had to follow the rules; he couldn't recruit an unqualified soldier.

Their rising voices caught the attention of Abraham Erskine.

Watching Rogers' dejected expression, he seemed to recall something.

"Just like the track of history..."

Luke watched quietly from the side, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

But he quickly suppressed it, because behind Abraham Erskine, the few black-clad men tailing him were drawing closer.

Their eyes were cold, their faces murderous, and their right hands slowly reached toward the bulges at their waists.

In an instant!

The black-clad men flipped open their coats!

Pulled out the hidden pistols!

The icy muzzles aimed at Abraham Erskine.

It seemed they would pull the triggers any second.

Bang!

A gunshot rang out!

The crowd in the recruiting station immediately fell into chaos, screams of panic bursting forth like steam from a locomotive, spreading everywhere.

The soldiers in uniform, new recruits not yet enlisted, scrambled like ants on a hot pan, running aimlessly in all directions.

They had never been to war, never received formal training—they had no idea what to do.

The officer on guard collapsed in a pool of blood, a bullet hole punched through the white round cap on his head.

Blood gushed from the back of his skull, and with his twisted face, the sight was especially horrifying.

"Move!"

Luke, who had been hiding to the side, pulled the fallen Dr. Erskine to his feet and turned into a corridor alcove.

Intense gunfire followed behind them, bullets striking the walls and kicking up clouds of dust.

Luke glanced at Rogers, who was crouched behind a cabinet with his hands over his head, and couldn't help but entertain a strange thought.

If the future Captain America died here, how would things unfold from now on?

Would a new hero emerge?

Or would the Third Reich win the war, and the Red Skull conquer the world?

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The sharp gunshots snapped Luke out of his distraction.

He looked at the tense Dr. Erskine and said softly, "Stay here! Don't move around!"

Outside the alcove, the sound of footsteps, "tap tap tap," grew closer.

The drawn curtain, lit by the light, cast the shadow of a figure holding a gun.

Luke touched the Colt M1911 at his lower back, took a deep breath, and suddenly burst out from the corridor alcove!