Book 9: Chapter 18: Avengers Alliance

“Snap!” After a film reel of only about ten minutes finished playing, the fluorescent lights came back on in the dark room.

The screening room was not very big, at most about thirty square meters. At this moment, more than ten people were sitting inside; it looked like a middle school classroom playing an educational film.

However, somewhat strangely, except for a few individuals, most of the people seemed not to care much about the film’s content. They were softly talking among themselves or playing with the latest smartphones, sending messages to acquaintances. There was even a young man wearing a mask and casual clothes skateboarding around the screening room.

Of course, this could not be entirely blamed on them. This short film was not only old, with blurry black-and-white footage, but the fights depicted in it were not that intense or exciting to these powerful individuals.

The projection on the wall screen remained on the last frame. It showed a young man wearing a British lieutenant’s uniform, smiling, holding a blood-dripping bag. Behind him was a dark passageway; the surroundings looked like the corridor of an underground bunker.

The young man seemed to have just suffered severe injuries. The bandage wrapped around his waist was stained with blood on both sides—it must have been a penetrating wound to his abdomen. If Qin Lun had been there, he would have recognized the person on the screen as himself, or “Joey.” This was the scene after his battle with the female professor Kathleen from Grimm Academy.

“Gentlemen, please stop what you are doing!” Watching his casual subordinates, the “teacher” on the podium covered his face and looked helplessly at the “class monitor” sitting in the front row.

This “teacher” certainly did not look the part. He was a stern-looking, large black man wearing a black leather coat and a black eyepatch. His cold face seemed to have “keep away” written all over it.

Of course, these people were not real teachers and students. That “class monitor” was a tall, athletic young man with blond hair. Though muscular and well-built, he had a handsome face and always wore a gentle smile, quite different from the typical brutish strongman.

The young man appeared to be in his late twenties. His blond hair was cut into a simple crew cut, and his movements carried a soldier’s heroic bearing.

Normally, seeing that kind of pleading look from the “teacher,” the blond young man often could not help but laugh, never mind teasing his superior and good friend on stage.

However, after watching that old footage, he found himself in no mood for amusement. Memories he thought long forgotten resurfaced like a reopened scar, bleeding all over again. A faint sadness unconsciously wrapped around his heart.

“Everyone, please keep quiet!” The young man did not even lift his head, his hands clasped and supporting his chin, his voice somewhat low.

Though his words were not very loud, the dozen or so companions in the room involuntarily stiffened and stopped what they were doing. A few who were playing with their phones glanced at him in surprise, then put them down. Even the masked youth who had been skateboarding and occasionally joking with others paused slightly, flipped his skateboard up, tucked it under his arm, and quietly returned to his seat.

“Stephen, what’s wrong?” A charming-looking red-haired woman with a cold, tough demeanor sitting next to the young man frowned slightly and placed a concerned hand on his shoulder.

Everyone gathered in this room was a powerful individual, each with a unique and proud personality. They were not under any hierarchy but respected each other; in a way, they shared similar ideals and had mutual admiration.

However, whether they were older veterans or young newcomers, each had accomplishments that could be called legends. They had experienced more joys and sorrows than ordinary people, and their shoulders bore responsibilities and ideals beyond normal endurance.

Thus, they had developed very sensitive nerves. The young man’s words had no binding power over them, but they could sense the profound heaviness from the depths of his soul, reminding everyone of their own most painful memories.

“It’s nothing!” The handsome young man called Stephen by the red-haired woman took a deep breath and raised his head again. He looked at the stern, one-eyed black man on the podium and said gravely, “Nick, I’m in a very bad mood right now! If you don’t explain clearly why you showed us this footage from over fifty years ago, even if you lock me up for a week, I will beat you up badly!”

The black man, whose expression was usually as hard as granite, showed a hint of surprise in his one eye. He and Stephen were not only colleagues but also very good friends, with a bond through life and death. Given Stephen’s usually warm, loyal, and gentle nature, this was the harshest thing he could say.

“It seems what happened back in Casablanca really hit him hard!” A thought flashed through Nick’s mind, but he quickly dismissed it—now was not the time for such thoughts.

“I gathered you all here because of the recent terrorist attack in Washington!” Nick quickly organized his thoughts and spoke with a serious expression. “Maybe you saw similar news on your way here. But due to how suddenly it happened, and except for the S.H.I.E.L.D. members who fought, most of you don’t know the real situation because the government has controlled the related news reports.”

“Tch!” Hearing Nick’s words, a few members in the room who were not fond of the government secretly curled their lips. But seeing Nick’s and several other S.H.I.E.L.D. members’ grave expressions, they swallowed their sarcastic remarks.

“In Washington D.C., including the White House and the Pentagon, hundreds of buildings were burned down. The loss of public property is countless. The casualty count is still rising; though there’s no exact number yet, because of the dense population, initial estimates are between four hundred thousand to six hundred thousand. That’s close to the direct casualties from the two atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II.”

Nick’s face turned grim as he spoke. For S.H.I.E.L.D., which claimed to be the shield of world peace, this terrorist attack was a huge insult. The most ironic part was that the main cause of the massive casualties was the flying aircraft carriers designed and built by S.H.I.E.L.D., which were stolen by Hydra agents hidden within the organization.

Although the mastermind behind this attack was ultimately eliminated by Captain America leading S.H.I.E.L.D. superhumans like Black Widow, the severe casualties and property damage reports stung everyone and caused irreparable harm to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s reputation.

“I’ve said it all along: a double-edged sword like S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t necessary at all!” Learning the consequences of the attack, the room fell into silence. One middle-aged scholar adjusted his glasses and said coldly.

“Dr. Bruce, now is not the time for complaints!” Nick sighed. As the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., this soldier-turned-tough man, though he still appeared strong, was full of self-blame inside.

“Nick, as one of the main participants in this attack, I know more details than you!” Stephen Rogers, also known as Captain America, had a dim look in his eyes but quickly recovered, saying with dissatisfaction, “But about this footage, you still haven’t given me an explanation!”

“Stephen, you were a main fighter this time, but you weren’t involved in the later ‘cleanup’ work. Actually, after the battle, we captured some Hydra agents alive and obtained important intel.”

Nick was silent for a moment, then suddenly said something cryptic: “He came back!”

“That’s impossible; he died long ago!” Stephen obviously understood immediately. His face changed sharply; he stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair unconsciously, and angrily turned to leave without waiting for Nick’s explanation. “I don’t want to listen to your stories here anymore; it’s just a waste of time!”

Captain America’s furious departure left his familiar companions in the room stunned. They had never seen Stephen, with his gentle nature, act so violently.

“Nick, what’s going on?” A middle-aged gentleman with a small mustache in the room looked up seriously at the one-eyed black man.

This middle-aged gentleman had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, dozing off. Even when everyone else quieted down earlier, he hadn’t sat up properly, seeming rather eccentric. His companions nearby didn’t find it strange, knowing this genius playboy’s temperament well, and hadn’t bothered to remind him.

Only after Stephen Rogers slammed the door and left did he fully grasp his friend’s explosive anger and have to take things seriously.

“Tony… we all know that given Stephen’s real age, he’s actually the oldest among us.” Nick’s rigid face showed a trace of a bitter smile for the first time. “Although we are all Stephen’s friends, it’s only in this era. We can’t share his memories and feelings from before.

Actually, the government’s portrayal of the unbeatable Captain America hides the fact that half a century ago, he and the Allied Forces superhumans of that time suffered a heartbreaking defeat. Next, I will show you a top-secret file never before seen in history, about a battle at the end of World War II in 1945—the Casablanca battle!”

…

Half an hour later, the war room door opened again, and more than a dozen powerful individuals filed out with serious expressions.

But as soon as they reached the door, they found Stephen leaning against the wall, looking up blankly. Clearly, Captain America had calmed down from his earlier rage and hadn’t really left. Instead, he had stayed by the door and listened to Nick’s briefing.

Everyone looked at this unusually distraught steadfast warrior, exchanging glances, unsure how to comfort their companion. Quite a few among them had experienced losing loved ones or comrades to dark forces and knew such pain could only be overcome by oneself.

“…Stephen, this isn’t like you. Cheer up; you’re our captain!” Tony Stark, the middle-aged gentleman from before, walked over to the young man with a stern face. His serious expression seemed oddly comical to those who knew him.

But this genius playboy clearly wasn’t good at comforting people. Seeing that Stephen ignored him, he curled his lips in boredom. “We’ll avenge you this time. We’ll show that outdated Nazi geezer that this is no longer an era where he can keep committing atrocities!”

Hearing Tony’s words, Stephen slowly lowered his head and looked expressionlessly at the middle-aged gentleman.

If you don’t know how to comfort someone, then don’t! Everyone’s faces twitched, cursing Tony Stark inwardly. Captain America was also an old guy from the World War II era, wasn’t he?

“Ahem, Stephen, I meant that Nazi fossil, not you, old…” Iron Man quickly realized his slip of the tongue and stammered awkwardly in explanation.

“Tony… shut up!” The superhumans gathered at the door shouted in unison.