Once he regained his balance atop the Quinjet, Steve hurled his shield again—this ti smashing the rear engine.
The aircraft instantly lost stability, spiraling out of control.
Steve retrieved the shield and leapt clear, clearing the second barricade just as the Quinjet slamd into the bridge behind him in a fiery wreck.
---
Inside S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Strategic Command Center—
"Attention all personnel. Imdiate Level One alert!"
Sitwell strode in, authority unquestioned.
"Drop all current operations. Switch to Level One readiness. Contact the Departnt of Transportation—turn every traffic light within a one-mile radius red. Shut down all runways at every D.C. airport. Patch every surveillance feed to the Insight main display."
He checked the ti.
"Audit every communication device. Phones, comm units, smartwatches—everything. If anyone receives contact from this individual, report imdiately."
Steve's photo filled the central screen.
This was a manhunt.
Agent Thirteen—Sharon Carter—stepped forward.
"With respect, sir, if we're arresting Captain Arica, we deserve to know why."
Before Sitwell could answer, a deeper voice cut in.
"Because he's deceived us."
Alexander Pierce entered the room.
"Captain Steve Rogers is withholding critical information regarding Director Fury's death. He refuses to cooperate. As of now, he is a fugitive from S.H.I.E.L.D."
The explanation was thin.
Everyone knew it.
But Pierce's presence silenced further objection. Orders were orders.
Only Sharon's expression remained troubled.
---
Hospital
Steve had changed clothes—plain jacket, cap pulled low.
He moved through the hospital corridor unnoticed.
He stopped at a vending machine.
The third row.
Empty.
That slot had held snacks earlier.
And hidden behind them—
Fury's flash drive.
Gone.
Suddenly, Natasha's reflection appeared in the vending machine glass.
Behind her—
Karl, casually opening a bag of chips.
"You dragged all the way to a hospital?" Karl complained, tossing a snack to Steve. "And these are terrible, by the way. Whoever stocks this machine should be sued."
Steve finally exhaled in relief.
Fury had said trust no one.
Natasha… maybe.
Karl?
Different story.
Karl openly despised S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd suggested blowing the place up more than once. If he was here with Natasha, that ant sothing.
"Where's the drive?" Steve asked sharply, pulling Natasha into an empty room.
Karl blinked—then imdiately pressed his face to the window.
A man. A woman. An empty hospital room.
Now this was interesting.
Except—
Steve pinned Natasha against the wall and demanded the flash drive like an interrogation officer.
Karl clicked his tongue in disappointnt and crunched another chip.
Romance was clearly not Steve's superpower.
"Where did you get it?" Natasha asked calmly. "Fury gave it to you?"
"What's on it?"
"How would I know? I haven't opened it. Have you?"
"Stop lying to !" Steve snapped, smashing a nearby table with a single punch.
Wood splintered.
"I know who killed Fury," Natasha said quietly.
Steve froze. "Who?"
"Officially, he doesn't exist. But so agencies believe he does. They call him the Winter Soldier. Over the last several decades, dozens of assassinations. Zero failures."
Steve frowned. "So he's a ghost story?"
"Five years ago, I was on a protection detail," Natasha continued. "He shot my target. I intercepted."
She lifted her shirt slightly.
A coin-sized scar marked her abdon.
"Sa Soviet round. Sa untraceable ballistics."
The room fell silent.
Karl leaned in closer outside the door.
Winter Soldier.
Right.
He'd already killed one before in another tiline.
And if mory served—
This one used to be Steve's best friend.
Bucky.
Natasha handed the flash drive to Steve.
"Can you decrypt it?"
She shook her head.
"But I know soone who can."
Karl rolled his eyes.
Of course.
Skye.
There weren't many hackers Natasha trusted—and definitely none inside S.H.I.E.L.D.
---
anwhile—
At the top floor of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Alexander Pierce was in session with the World Security Council, calmly discussing Nick Fury's "death."
The ga had officially begun.
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