After giving his orders, Charles left the Cloud base and returned to his headquarters.
He had meticulously prepared for the imminent disbandment of S.H.I.E.L.D., and now, all that was left was to let events unfold.
However, Charles was uncertain whether the final outcome would match the events he remembered.
The current S.H.I.E.L.D. had far too many superhuman individuals. Charles had no idea how many were loyal S.H.I.E.L.D. agents versus Hydra infiltrators.
Even someone as formidable as Steve Rogers could fall if faced with an overwhelming number of adversaries.
After all, he was just one man with a single dose of super-soldier serum.
Moreover, some members of Hydra had gained access to Orochimaru's Curse Mark of Fire, significantly increasing their power.
Nevertheless, no matter the unforeseen complications, Charles was determined to ensure S.H.I.E.L.D.'s collapse.
It was a necessary step in his plan, and he intended to exploit the ensuing chaos to its fullest.
…
At the Cloud Base-
After Charles's departure, Killer Bee immediately pulled out his phone to contact Coulson.
Coulson's team was still in Pensacola, Florida, and had not yet begun to relocate.
When Coulson saw Killer Bee's name on the caller ID, he paused for a moment. Was this call about the arrangements for the next concert?
He answered with a lighthearted tone:
"Hey, Killer Bee."
"Hey, Coulson," Killer Bee replied.
Coulson said, "We've been busy with missions lately, so the concert planning might have to wait a bit longer."
Killer Bee laughed, "I'm not calling to nag about the concerts—though I'm happy you remembered."
Hearing that it wasn't about concerts, Coulson suddenly had a hunch: was Killer Bee finally rejoining the team?
If he had been around earlier, some of their tougher missions, like capturing Deathlok, would have gone far smoother.
"Where's the team stationed? I'm ready to rejoin and fulfill my part of the agreement."
Coulson chuckled, "So it is about the concerts, isn't it?"
When Coulson had initially recruited Killer Bee as a consultant, they had struck a unique deal: one concert per mission. Coulson had promised a total of 13 concerts, intending to use these missions to strengthen their bond and eventually integrate Killer Bee into the team fully, much like Thor's role among the Avengers.
Unfortunately, Skye, who had built the strongest relationship with Killer Bee, had since left the team entirely.
Killer Bee admitted with a grin, "Fine, you got me. I'm itching to perform again. Things here have been way too boring."
"Thankfully, two more ninjas arrived to take over my duties, freeing me up to return and chase those concerts."
Hearing about the reinforcements, Coulson finally understood why Killer Bee could leave the Cloud base.
However, he hadn't received any updates about this from the temporary base in Peru, which was supposed to relay such information.
"We're still in Pensacola, Florida, dealing with a situation. It'll be a while before we head back to New York."
Killer Bee said directly, "Got it. Send me the address, and I'll head over."
Coulson replied, "There's no rush. A slight delay won't hurt."
Knowing that Killer Bee was set to return, Coulson felt there was no need to accelerate things. They could retrieve him after escorting Ward back to the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in New York.
But Killer Bee insisted with a chuckle, "It's no problem—I'm fast. Besides, I'd rather not spend another day here handling boring tasks."
Amused, Coulson said, "Alright, I'll send you the address shortly."
"I'm curious, though. How fast can you actually make it here?"
Coulson knew that Killer Bee's current job at the Cloud base was dull: standing guard, greeting visitors, and dealing with disgruntled individuals upset over being unable to obtain body-enhancement serums.
…
Meanwhile-
The sky outside was still dim as Steve Rogers jogged near the National Mall in Washington, D.C. The area, with landmarks like the Lincoln Memorial and its surrounding lake, was an ideal spot for exercise.
As Steve jogged, he noticed someone else running and effortlessly lapped him. While passing, he called out:
"On your left."
Moments later, Steve completed another lap and once again overtook the same person, repeating:
"On your left."
This time, Sam Wilson responded, "Yeah, yeah, I got it. On my left."
Sam watched Steve's retreating figure with a mix of amusement and determination, continuing his own run.
As the sky brightened, Steve approached from behind for a third lap around the massive National Mall—a space approximately 7 kilometers (4.3 miles) per circuit.
Noticing Steve again, Sam called out preemptively, "Don't say it. Just don't say it."
Ignoring the plea, Steve effortlessly passed him once more, grinning and repeating, "On your left."
Sam, frustrated but determined, tried to pick up his pace. However, the sudden burst of speed quickly drained his energy.
After running less than 100 meters, Sam was forced to stop, breathing heavily and clutching his side from a stitch. Resigned, he found a patch of grass to sit on and recover.
When Steve finished another lap, he walked over to Sam with a friendly smile and asked, "Hey, buddy, need me to call a doctor?"
Sam, drenched in sweat and thoroughly exhausted, replied between gasps, "I need a new pair of lungs."
While Sam's shirt was soaked through, Steve seemed completely unfazed, not even breaking a sweat.
"You just ran close to 30 miles in half an hour," Sam remarked incredulously.
Steve chuckled and said, "If you sleep in, you've got to run extra to make up for it."
Sam raised an eyebrow.
"Is that so?"
"You don't even feel bad about showing off, do you?"
He motioned for Steve to go run another lap. When Steve didn't immediately move, Sam smirked and teased:
"What's wrong? Already done?"
"Fine, just count it as another lap for me," Steve replied casually, unfazed by the banter.
As their conversation lightened, Steve turned the topic serious, asking, "What unit were you with?"
Sam responded, "Fifty-Eighth Airborne Rescue."
"But now, I'm working with the VA, helping other vets adjust. Name's Sam Wilson."
Steve nodded and extended a hand, helping Sam to his feet.
"Steve Rogers."