𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 had happened so fast. Steve had yet a moment to sit down and actually process the event that had played out before his eyes. He'd lost track of the time during the conference as he answered yet another series of questions asking along the lines of how the citizens of New York, and the world for that matter, could rest at night knowing that organizations like HYDRA were just waiting to strike.

It was poorly timed that the reporter's question was proven as fact at that very moment as every piece of technology in the surrounding area malfunctioned. Steve had reached for his comm, but quickly realized that he wouldn't be reaching his teammates via that method. He had tried to keep the crowd calm, but he'd been ushered from the stage as the local authorities arrived.

Even his attempts to return to the stage had been foiled. The stage manager had insisted that it'd be safer for him backstage, ironic since it was usually his job to ensure that civilians were the one kept in the safest environment.

Slowly, Steve crossed his arms. "Could I at least get an explanation?"

"Sorry, Captain Rogers," the stage manager apologized and again shook his head to prevent the super-soldier from walking back out toward the stage. "I think it'd be better if we waited for the authorities."

Steve raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue. He calmly took a seat, setting his shield up against the wall as he did. He'd realized that there was little he could do in the moment when he didn't understand the full extent of everything going on.

The door to the backstage building opened without a knock and a dozen armored officers rushed inside. Each had their weapon raised and trained on the soldier.

"Step away from the shield, sir," the police captain barked his instruction as he stepped forward, pulling a pair of handcuffs off his belt. "Anything you say or do from this point forward will affect your plea in court."

"Sorry?" Steve asked in confusion. "What's going on now?"

"You're under arrest for treason of the state and nation," the officer explained, taking yet another step forward.

"Treason?" Steve still didn't understand. He looked down the line of officers who remained tense in their stance, refusing to lower their weapons until certain the super-soldier wouldn't be a threat. Steve glanced over his shoulder at his shield resting along the wall, for a split-second, he considered grabbing it.

However, smoke flooded the room and impaired his sense of vision. Steve coughed as the smoke was so thick it was practically suffocating. A hand reached out through the smoke and grabbed his wrist before tugging him toward the exit.

As his vision was blurred, he was unable to deem whether the person beside him was a serious threat. He pulled his arm back in an attempt to free himself; however, he stopped as soon as he was dragged outside. The sun hit his eyes that blinded his already blurred vision.

"Stop fighting, Cap!" Sam demanded in a harsh whisper.

Steve relaxed hearing a familiar voice and stopped fighting. However, he groaned as he was shoved up against a brick wall. The change in light was again disorienting as he was forced into the shadows. He blinked a few times and his vision finally started to clear. He glanced down and noticed that Sam had placed a hand protectively across his chest to keep him from running out in the open. Now that he could see, Steve gently pushed the hand away. Sam looked over surprised, but relaxed as Steve gave him an appreciative nod.

"So what's going on?"

"Why don't you tell me," Sam suggested, then paused before adding, "Captain HYDRA."

"Captain HYDRA?" Steve questioned, a look of disdain crossed his face and he wrinkled his nose with distaste as he repeated the name. "What are you talking about?"

"It's probably all over the media at this point, but you've been identified as HYDRA's poster boy," Sam explained. "Although it seems like a pretty shoddy plan to what... arrest you?"

Steve shrugged, also not understanding what HYDRA's endgame was. "It might not seem like much now, but HYDRA always has a plan."

"Well, lucky for you, you've got a team who's got your back," Sam said as he peeked around the corner of the building. The coast seemed clear so he motioned for Steve to follow. "We're to rendezvous with Barton and Romanoff at the quinjet."

"There's a lot of open ground between here and there," Steve noted, skeptically checking his shoulder as he followed after Sam. "We need a plan."

"And that's why we'll take to the skies," Sam replied, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his pack flipped open revealing the large, metallic wingspan. "Redwing will scout ahead. Buckle up."

Before Steve could reply or process what Sam's plan actually was, he was hoisted from the ground and lifted into the sky by his arm. The city started to recede below him as they reached the height of the surrounding buildings and skyscrapers. It seemed a little excessive for the short flight toward the open lot where they'd parked the quinjet, but at least they wouldn't have to worry about being shot at.

———

Brock Rumlow stopped beside his men to catch his breath. He wasn't normally one to shy away from a fight, but after the fiasco at the Triskelion, he was still in the recovery process. The burns that marred his body still ached with every step he took. There was no way he'd be able to overpower Romanoff and Barton with such depleted numbers, so retreat had been the only logical conclusion.

His second in command stepped forward and offered him a phone. He hadn't heard the ringtone go off, but it was clear someone had called as the time recording the call continued to increase. He accepted the device and held it close enough to his ear to hear, but far enough away that it didn't irritate his skin.

"Do you have him?" The voice was distorted on the other end of the line as the new head of HYDRA continued to conceal his identity.

"Negative." Rumlow replied and braced for the backlash that usually came with failure. However, the other end remained silent, as if deep in thought.

"Wait for further instruction," the voice finally broke the silence. "Our business partner has provided some reinforcements that should prove useful."

Rumlow nodded his head, accepting the orders, but a small sliver of doubt still presented itself in the back of his mind. "What's the infatuation with Captain America? Wouldn't it be simpler just to take him out—"

"I need him alive!" The voice hissed with a hostility that hadn't been present before. It had been said with such force that the technology encrypting the head's voice had failed and revealed a hint of charismatic charm. The voice cleared its throat and the encrypting tech mistake was corrected. "His blood is the key to unlocking the secrets of the next generation of super-soldiers."

"There have been other successful projects," Rumlow protested, shuddering at the memories that threatened to penetrate his mental shields and remind him of his constant pain.

"You say successful, but I say tainted," the voice spat and Rumlow could almost feet the moisture through the phone. "I will have what I am owed, so says The Red Skull."

Chills shot down Rumlow's spine at the name he'd only heard as legend previously. The title had been reserved for only those deemed worthy and none had proven themselves as capable as the original, which made him question what made this head consider himself so high and mighty.

"I consider myself a patient man, Mr. Rumlow," the voice continued without providing Rumlow the opportunity to say anything, "but my patience is beginning to wear thin. I've never failed to take what I want, and I will not start to make a habit of it now."

"Understood... sir." Rumlow hesitantly added on the title of respect. No one knew what to think of the new head, but it was evident he was already demanding reverence. Everyone would be trying to climb the ranks with the change in leadership, so Rumlow deemed it wise not to start off on the wrong foot.

The call ended and Rumlow tossed the phone back to the second-in-command of his squad. His shoulders tensed at the unfamiliar presence suddenly added to the group. He turned to face the intruder, pulling his handgun from its holster, but he was immediately disarmed.

The soldier now standing before him looked the weapon over and scoffed before offering to return it. "How HYDRA infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. and remained hidden for so long, I'll never know."

Rumlow frowned, taking his gun back and placing it back at his side. "You must be reinforcements."

"Agent Mors," the agent introduced himself without conceding any signs of weakness. The two leaders looked one another over, trying to size the other up before Agent Mors stepped back as if the decision was more effort than it was worth. "I'll be taking over this operation."

"That wasn't per the arrangement," Rumlow protested.

"The arrangement has changed," Agent Mors informed him curtly. He was handed a small handheld device which he briefly glanced at before nodding his head and returning the device right back to its handler. "We have coordinates on the captain."

"Already?" Rumlow asked in confusion. He then paused and glanced around after noticing another small detail. "Is the shield down? I thought our tech wouldn't work when it was operational."

"The shield is functioning fine," Agent Mors waved away his concern while stepping out in front to lead the group. "You're correct in assuming that your technology does not work when we're running electrical interference; however, it is bold of you to also assume that our technology operates on the same frequency."

Rumlow huffed under his breath, losing patience and his self-control not to give in to the urge to throttle the other agent where he stood. "What's our heading?"

Agent Mors didn't provide a clear answer; instead, he briefly turned his head to look over his shoulder. The smug grin plastered to his face was infuriating as Rumlow was forced into a role of submission. "Are you a praying man, Agent Rumlow?"

Rumlow could only hear the sound of his own heartbeat as his vision blurred while memories he'd tried to repress forced their way back in. He could feel the fire licking and eating away at his flesh as the rubble crushing his ribs, suffocating him, embedding itself in his open wounds. He could feel the soreness clawing at his vocal chords and subconsciously raised a hand to his throat as he could remember crying out until his voice was hoarse, praying to any god that might hear him while craving nothing more than the sweet release of death.

< Please... Let me die... >

He shuddered. The movement was controlled though like a dog shaking water from his back. That memory had been unwanted, and was apparent as he shoved past his men and followed after Agent Mors. His eyes hardened as the agent looked at him curiously, as if trying to dissect him where he stood to pry at the secrets hidden in his mind.

Rumlow shook head as he gestured to his scars. "Gods don't listen to creatures from hell." He then removed the gun at his hip and checked his supply of ammunition before ushering the agent to continue forward. It was these 'gods' that had caused him so much pain, so with a fresh sense of direction, he was determined to drag them all back down to hell with him... starting with the Captain. He should've just stayed buried in the ice because now he would know the real meaning of pain.

———

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞| Thanks for reading! This chapter marks the end of act one. How are we feeling so far?