Peaceful times always passed quickly. The new era was like a galloping steed, suddenly leaping across the gaps in time.
Inside an old house in Brooklyn, Steve wore a pointed hat made from newspaper and diligently painted the aging walls with a long-handled roller. His friend Bucky, whose memories were gradually returning, cleaned the room as well.
It was hard to imagine that one of them was a World War II veteran from the last century, while the other had been Hydra's ace assassin. Yet now, they were like ordinary people, wearing aprons and newspaper hats as they did a thorough cleaning.
Steve Rogers in particular, once a war hero and the righteous leader of Superheroes, had long vanished from the public eye. People could only see him in museums and educational videos.
Captain America was very satisfied with his current life. After setting aside his shield and Stars and Stripes Uniform, he seemed to have invisibly cast off the responsibilities of the past and regained peace of mind.
Back at the bar, Steve and Sean had talked at length about many things. Afterward, he signed the Superhero Registration Act and stopped concerning himself with complicated, murky political disputes, choosing instead to live in retirement.
Having cast aside his shield and flag, Steve now felt completely unburdened. His former confusion and hesitation had already vanished.
This World War II veteran had fought across smoke-filled battlefields, weaving through barrages of gunfire. Before victory arrived, he fell into the ice with an unfulfilled promise.
Then he awakened from a seventy-year slumber. It was as though he had merely taken a nap, drawn back the curtains, and found that the world before him had become utterly different, transformed beyond recognition.
The brutal war that had swept across the world was over. Some comrades