Sam Wilson chuckled and said, "I could tell. Waking up after being frozen must've been a shock."
Steve Rogers sighed, replying, "It takes some getting used to."
"Good to meet you, Sam," Steve said with a small smile before turning to leave.
As Steve walked away, Sam called out, "It's the bed, isn't it?"
Steve turned back, puzzled, "What?"
"Your bed—too soft," Sam explained as he walked over to Steve.
"When I was still active, I could sleep on the ground," he continued.
"Use a rock as a pillow, like some caveman."
"Now, when I get home and lie on my bed, it feels like..."
"Like lying on marshmallows," Steve interjected.
"Like you're sinking right through to the floor."
Sam nodded in agreement.
Steve asked, "How long were you out there?"
"Two tours," Sam replied, then added, "You must miss the old days, huh?"
Steve glanced around thoughtfully and said, "Well, now isn't so bad."
"The food's way better; back then, we just boiled everything."
"Polio's been cured. The internet exists. They even sell the Super Soldier Serum publicly now. That's impressive."
"I've been reading up online, trying to catch up with the times."
Sam pondered for a moment, then said, "Marvin Gaye. 1972. The album Trouble Man. Everything you missed is in there."
Steve immediately pulled a small notebook and pen from his pocket, smiling as he wrote it down, "I'll add it to my list."
As Steve finished jotting down the album name, a notification buzzed from his communicator. He pulled it out and read a message from Natasha Romanoff:
Mission. Move out. Meet me on the roadside.
Steve looked at Sam and said, "Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the company on the run."
He extended his hand for a shake, adding with a playful smirk, "If that counts as running for you."
Sam sighed, "Was that really necessary?"
"Absolutely," Steve replied, grinning.
"Alright then," Sam said with a shrug.
As Steve turned to leave, Sam called out, "If you ever want to swing by the VA, let me know ahead of time. Help me boost my rep with the front desk ladies."
Steve turned back with a small smile and said, "Noted."
Sam nodded with a grin. "Good."
At that moment, Natasha pulled up to the roadside in her Corvette C7. Rolling down the window, she leaned out and said to the two men, "Hey, boys, anyone know the way to the Smithsonian Museum?"
"I'm here to pick up a fossil."
Steve walked over to her and replied, "Very funny."
Sam crouched down to look into the car, greeting her, "Hello there."
Natasha responded with a smile, "Hi!"
Steve got into the car, glanced at Sam, and remarked, "You can't run everywhere."
Sam replied, "Yeah, you're right."
The window rolled up, and Natasha drove off with Steve.
…
Indian Ocean-
Onboard a Quinjet-
Brock Rumlow, Natasha, Steve, and several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were gathered for a briefing.
Rumlow began, "The target is a mobile satellite launch platform, the Lemurian Star."
"93 minutes ago, pirates boarded during the final launch sequence of a satellite."
Steve asked, "What are their demands?"
Rumlow replied, "Three billion dollars—or a dose of the Super Soldier Serum."
Steve looked surprised, "That much?"
Rumlow explained, "It's a S.H.I.E.L.D. vessel."
Steve, slightly exasperated, muttered, "So it's not off-course; it's been hijacked."
Natasha, studying the data on the screen, added thoughtfully, "There must be a reason they're asking for that much."
Steve glanced at her and said, "I'm really tired of cleaning up Fury's messes."
Unfazed, Natasha replied, "Relax. It's not that complicated."
Steve turned to Rumlow, "How many pirates are there?"
"About 85," Rumlow replied.
"They're led by Georges Batroc, a top-tier mercenary."
Rumlow displayed Batroc's profile on the screen and continued,
"A former operative of the French DGSE Action Division, he's the number one target on Interpol's Red Notice."
"Before being discharged by France, he carried out 36 assassination missions. Brutal, skilled in mass killings."
"And according to intel, he likely exchanged an unknown 084 item with ninjas for a dose of the Super Soldier Serum."
Hearing this, Steve understood why the mission required himself, Rumlow, and Natasha—a team capable of handling enhanced threats.
"What about the hostages?" Steve asked.
"Mostly technicians," Rumlow replied.
"But there's one S.H.I.E.L.D. official among them: Jasper Sitwell."
"They're all being held in the galley."
Steve frowned, "What's Sitwell doing on a launch ship?"
Rumlow explained that Sitwell had been ordered to the Lemurian Star as part of preparations for a high-priority "Project Insight" operation.
Deciding not to dwell on it, Steve concluded, "Alright, I'll clear the deck and take down Batroc."
"Natasha, shut down the Lemurian Star's engines and wait for further orders."
"Rumlow, you handle the hostiles at the stern, locate the hostages, and get them onto the lifeboats. Rescue them."
"Move out."
Brock Rumlow nodded in agreement to Steve Rogers' orders.
He then called out, "Strike team, you heard the captain. Prepare for action!"
The Quinjet soon arrived above the target. Steve tested the communication channel.
"Channel seven, secure check."
Natasha confirmed, "Secure."
She then quipped, "Got any plans for Saturday night?"
Steve shook his head, "No. The guys I used to team up with are all dead."
"So, no plans."
A voice from the strike team interrupted over the comms, "Captain, we're approaching the drop zone."
Steve punched a button, opening the jet's rear ramp.
Natasha teased, "You should ask Christine from Accounting. She might say yes."
Standing at the ramp, helmet secured, Steve replied, "That's exactly why I won't."
Natasha smirked, "Too shy or too scared?"
"Too busy!"
With that, Steve Rogers leaped from the Quinjet without hesitation—without any parachute.
One of the strike team members exclaimed in shock, "Did he take a parachute?"
Rumlow chuckled, "No, he didn't. None of us will."