Press Conference.
A large number of media reporters gathered at the scene, their cameras aimed at Captain America, who slowly walked onto the stage.
He wore his S.H.I.E.L.D. combat uniform, the organization's logo printed on both shoulders, and a golden five-pointed star gleaming on his chest.
His face was handsome, his expression calm and resolute. The well-fitted uniform made him appear taller and more commanding, exuding a sense of security and reliability that naturally inspired trust.
The lingering effect of his goodwill aura was still active, so when these reporters met Steve Rogers for the first time, they couldn't help but feel a positive impression toward him.
It wasn't necessarily romantic affection—it was a sense of admiration, a subconscious desire to see things from his perspective.
From the sidelines, Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff watched the event unfold. Even Blade had shown up just to see what would happen.
"I'm very happy to meet you all," Steve began steadily. "Many things have happened recently—rumors, slander, defamation, and smear campaigns.
I fell asleep during the war and only woke up not long ago. The world has changed so fast that I can barely recognize it anymore.
When I learned that we had won the war—that justice had prevailed—I felt my mission was complete."
Steve's voice was calm but firm, every word carrying weight.
But then, someone raised their hand to interrupt him.
"I'm sorry, Captain," the man began. "Do you think criminals deserve to die? Why do you use such harsh force? Many people have been disabled or even killed because of your excessive actions. How do you explain that?"
Hiss!
The once-quiet conference hall erupted in whispers. Everyone turned to Steve, waiting to see how Captain America would respond.
Steve looked directly at the man. What a clown, he thought.
"May I have your name?" he asked evenly.
"Claude, Captain," the man with glasses replied with a smug smile.
"I see. Then I suggest you go to a war-torn region and work as a mercenary," Steve said sharply. "According to your standards, you're not allowed to shoot or kill your enemy. Survive for a year, and if you're still alive, come back and talk to me."
His tone carried a trace of sarcasm. "You don't understand the realities of war. You're lenient with yourself but strict with others. Why demand something from others that you couldn't do yourself?
You're a journalist—you should have a conscience and morals. Don't deliberately slander others just for publicity.
A person can be poor or weak, but he must have a fair and kind heart."
The hall fell silent. Several reporters flushed with embarrassment; Steve's words had exposed their hypocrisy for all to see.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Only two people started clapping—a man and a woman.
The woman was someone Steve had met before: Roxanne.
Her applause broke the tension, and though the rest of the reporters hesitated, they soon joined in.
Everyone understood the message—this man who had slept for seventy years was not someone easily manipulated or controlled.
"We're not fools," one of the journalists muttered. They all knew that pushing further on this topic would only lead to trouble.
Steve continued, "Dr. Abraham Erskine is known to many as the inventor of the Super Soldier Serum.
But to me, he was more than that—he was my mentor, the man who taught me to uphold justice and keep my conscience clear.
That's not easy to do."
His words held a deep conviction.
"In those days, the supremacy of force was the norm. Even parts of the U.S. military acted unjustly, committing atrocities against innocent civilians."
The statement exploded like a bomb.
If anyone else had said it, it would have been dismissed as nonsense. But coming from Captain America, it carried undeniable weight.
The room buzzed as reporters whispered to each other—this was breaking news of the highest order.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Steve slammed the table, his voice booming: "Silence!"
Even without raising his voice much, his commanding aura silenced the entire hall.
"In those chaotic times, I always remembered what Dr. Erskine told me: Compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't.
Even if everyone tells you that what's wrong is right—even if the whole world tells you to step aside—stand firm like a tree, look them in the eye, and say, 'No. You move.'"
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Roxanne once again applauded passionately, her palms turning red. Her gaze toward Steve was filled with admiration—and love.
He had already saved her life once, and now, her feelings for him had only deepened.
But Steve didn't respond flirtatiously—not because he didn't notice, but because he didn't have the time.
The thunderous applause didn't make him proud. He simply bowed slightly in gratitude and then turned to leave.
"Captain, please say a few more words!"
"Captain!"
Roxanne hurried after him. "Captain, may I have a private interview?"
Several other reporters tried to follow, but Brock Rumlow (Crossbones) and his team blocked them.
Only Roxanne managed to slip through.
"How come she gets through?" one of the frustrated reporters demanded, pointing after her.
"Because she's a fan of the Captain," Crossbones replied flatly.
"I can be a fan too! I'm patriotic!" the reporter shouted indignantly.
Crossbones gave him a strange look. "You really want to go head-to-head with Captain America?"
The other journalists snickered. If it's Captain America… maybe it's worth it.
At the Daily Bugle.
Editor-in-Chief J. Jonah Jameson was haggling with Peter Parker.
It was never easy to get good photos of Spider-Man, but Peter's shots were unusually clear—close-up images of the masked hero's face.
"Garbage, garbage, garbage…" Jameson muttered as he flipped through the prints, barely glancing up at Peter, who sat neatly with a polite, nervous expression.
"I'll give you two hundred dollars. That's what these photos are worth."
"The price seems a bit low," Peter said cautiously. "Didn't the paper list three hundred?"
Jameson shrugged. "Then go find another newspaper."
Peter sighed, packed up the photos, and turned to leave.
Just then, Jameson's phone rang.
"Your wife says the tiles you ordered are out of stock!" a voice on the line said.
"Then order a carpet!" he barked back, hanging up.
Peter had nearly reached the door when Jameson suddenly shouted, "Sit down! Let me see those again!"
After a dramatic pause, he sighed. "Fine. I'll give you three hundred. That's the standard price."
He handed the photos to his assistant. "Front page."
"What's the headline?" the assistant asked.
Jameson grinned.
"Spider-Man: Hero or Menace? The Daily Bugle's Exclusive Photos!"
...
📢 Author's Note
The full completed version of Marvel: This Captain America Is Different (Part 1) is now available on Patreon!
🔗 patreon.com/Shadow_demon_007
✅ Part 1 Complete — 117 Chapters
Join the journey of a wildly unpredictable Captain America as absurd system missions, unexpected rewards, and chaotic adventures turn the Marvel Universe upside down.
🔥 I also have additional **18+ fanfics** available for readers who enjoy exclusive mature stories. 😉
1. Dragon Ball: Oolong's Sex Adventure
2. Elements of Lust – ATLA & Korra Mixed Smut
3. Doraemon: Filtering with Nobi Tamako
4. The Naive Me Who Became Someone's Everyday Secret
5. High School DxD: Rias Gremory, the Phenex Bride
6. Versatile Mage: Awakening the Succubus System
🔗 patreon.com/Shadow_demon_007
Thank you all for your continued support and happy reading! 💙
