Inside the boxing gym, the rhythmic thud of fists on the heavy bag echoed without pause.
A man with a perfect physique threw punch after punch.
Sweat streamed down his face, yet his mind was far away, lost in a vivid memory from his childhood.
It was a night as black as pitch.
A roaring tide of shadow.
A disaster beyond all imagining.
A skinny boy ran for his life, his best friend Bucky right beside him.
They desperately searched for shelter as darkness consumed the city.
Buildings crumbled around them. Debris rained down, hurtling straight toward the two boys.
Just moments before impact, the skinny boy saw something impossible.
High atop a building, a figure with snow-white hair simply waved a hand.
Cars were ripped into the sky. They slammed into the falling debris, creating a shield that deflected the wreckage away from them.
"Run, Steve!" Bucky's voice shouted a desperate plea.
But in the next instant, the figure with white hair was gone.
Little Steve had barely escaped with his life.
He was about to keep running to find safety when he saw a woman.
She was trapped, pinned beneath a heavy chunk of rubble.
The sense of justice, already a burning fire deep within him, made Steve freeze in his tracks.
"Bucky," he yelled, his voice strained, "someone needs help over there!"
That single, terrible disaster had destroyed half of New York.
Time returned to the present.
Steve Rogers, awake after seventy years, vented his emotions on the sandbag.
Each punch landed heavier than the last.
Since waking, he found a memory in his mind that had never been there before.
The black substance.
The overwhelming destruction.
The white-haired man.
War and childhood, hope and fear, all swirled in his thoughts.
Finally, the sandbag's chain snapped under a brutal punch.
The bag burst and flew across the room.
Steve panted, staring at the sand on the ground.
"That memory, and that person..."
He could not understand why he remembered none of it before.
It was as if everything had been erased, with not a trace left behind.
He stood still for a moment, then walked to the rack.
He picked up a new sandbag and slung it up with ease.
The super-soldier serum made the heavy bag feel as light as a pillow.
Since waking, this was how Steve tried to fill in the seventy years he had missed.
He braced the bag and began punching again.
That was when Nick Fury arrived.
"Trouble sleeping?" Fury asked, his voice calm as he walked into the gym.
He glanced at the obliterated punching bag. He was not surprised.
This was, after all, the perfect soldier S.H.I.E.L.D. had spent millions to revive.
"Slept for seventy years, sir," Steve said, his focus still on the ruined bag.
The rhythmic echo of his earlier efforts still hung in the air.
"I think I've had my fill."
"Then you should be out, seeing the world," Fury suggested, his approach casual for now.
He let the silence stretch a moment, allowing Steve to process his presence.
Steve finally stopped, unwrapping the worn bandages from his hands.
"When I went under, the world was at war. I wake up, they say we won. They didn't say what we lost."
Fury walked closer, his tone becoming more direct.
"We've made a lot of mistakes over the years. Some terrible, cruel ones."
"On this land, life can be as fragile as the wind."
His voice grew heavier. "Even now."
Steve looked at him then, meeting his gaze.
"You have a mission for me, sir?"
"I do," Fury confirmed with a nod.
"Trying to get me back in the world?" Steve asked, a hint of weariness in his voice.
Fury held his gaze. "Trying to save it."
Fury handed over a file. Steve opened it and saw something familiar.
The secret weapon of Hydra that had fallen into the glacier with him.
The Tesseract.
After Hydra vanished, Howard Stark found it and studied it, but it was taken from him again.
Seeing the Tesseract, Steve felt a sharp pain in his head. He pressed a hand to his forehead.
Fury watched him. "What is wrong?"
"It is nothing, sir."
A memory of the plane crash flashed through Steve's mind.
There was a man with black hair beside him.
Since waking, Steve sometimes dreamed of that man.
But the memory was like all dreams, both familiar and vague.
Steve muttered, "Who is he?"
"Who?" Fury asked.
"A man with black hair," Steve said, staring at the file, then shook his head. "It is nothing."
Fury began to wonder if John's treatment had gone wrong.
He had spent millions on this. If something was wrong, should he ask John for a refund?
But the Tesseract was the real problem now.
Fury told Steve that an Asgardian named Loki had stolen it.
"If you join us, I will have to give you a crash course," Fury said. "The world is changing faster than you can imagine."
Steve, a veteran of World War II, said nothing could surprise him.
He replied calmly, "I am already used to it."
Fury looked at him. "I bet you ten dollars you are wrong."
Steve left without comment.
Before leaving, he picked up a sandbag to take home. He would keep boxing.
There was always someone around to bother him.
Who would have guessed, after waking up, he would have a Black officer as his boss.
Daytime.
The doorbell rang at the Wick house.
John opened the door.
Phil Coulson stood there, wearing his usual friendly smile.
John closed the door in his face and walked back inside.
"Ding dong."
Coulson had no choice but to ring the bell again.
The door opened.
This time, John held a steaming cup of coffee.
He said flatly, "Give me one reason not to throw this coffee in your face."
You betrayed my father, and now you dare to show up at my house?
If you dare to knock today, you might tear down my house tomorrow and maybe kill someone the day after.
Coulson smiled awkwardly. "It is very urgent. Please take a look first."
He handed over a laptop. John glanced at it, took it, and read the file.
The computer contained records about the theft of the Tesseract.
John finished reading, still expressionless, and handed the computer back to Coulson.
"So?"
"We hope you can help," Coulson said carefully. "Asgardians are involved. Magic is involved."
From S.H.I.E.L.D.'s research on Thor, the Asgardians did not use technology but a kind of energy called magic.
Loki was Thor's brother and a prince of Asgard.
He had single-handedly defeated an entire S.H.I.E.L.D. base and even controlled several agents, including Clint Barton and Professor Selvig.
Perhaps that method of controlling people was magic.
S.H.I.E.L.D. did not want to give up on Barton, so finding a powerful wizard as a safeguard was a good idea.
And John, the mysterious wizard, was their best choice.
After hearing the reason, John closed the door again.
He said to Moss, "If he comes again, electrify the doorbell."
"Okay, sir."
Coulson stood helpless outside.
When he was undercover next to Watson Wick, he was sent to the frontier with no chance to get close.
Now the son hated him too.
"Natasha, it looks like you are the only one who can do this."
He spoke into his earpiece and turned to leave.
Natasha Romanoff had just finished with Dr. Banner, inviting him to help track the Tesseract.
She took a plane straight to the Wick house.
While getting into the elevator, she bumped into Hattie.
Two women: one with red hair, one with platinum blonde hair.
It seemed that people with those two hair colors were born to be rivals.
The moment they met, they sensed the other was not simple.
"Hello, I am John's assistant." Hattie took the initiative, her smile proud.
Natasha raised an eyebrow, not to be outdone.
"Oh? So you are the assistant filling in for me?"
"Natasha Romanoff."
Her words and tone made Hattie's smile disappear.
They reached the Wick home. Hattie rang the doorbell.
"Ringing the bell?" Natasha scoffed.
She took out a hairpin and fiddled with the lock.
Before John could even open the door, the lock clicked open.
John was startled by the familiar efficiency.
When the door opened, two women with very different personalities stood there, the air thick with tension.
John touched his chin. "Do you know each other?"
"No!"
They answered in unison, then glanced at each other again.
John complained inwardly.
He invited them in, then said casually, "Let me introduce you."
"This is my assistant." He gestured to Hattie.
"And this one, well, is also my assistant, but she has been absent for a long time." He glanced at Natasha.
Coulson had just left, and now Natasha had come.
John felt a bit depressed.
Why do the Avengers need a role for him too?
It seemed the Tesseract had been taken.
Which meant the Battle of New York was about to begin.
***********
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