Mount Hood, Oregon – 4:00 AM

The night air was crisp and biting, rolling down from the slopes of Mount Hood like a whisper of ice against the landscape. The modified olive Harley, adorned with a single white star on its body, cut through the empty highways with effortless precision, its deep, steady rumble the only disturbance in the slumbering wilderness. Behind the handlebars, Steve Rogers remained focused, his sharp blue eyes locked onto the winding road ahead. His uniform, a deep navy blue with white stripes behind the white star on his chest and a single red stripe adorning each shoulder, rippled slightly in the wind. His golden hair—now fading into a soft silver under the moon’s glow—flowed freely, untouched by the confines of a helmet.

A crackle from his earpiece broke the quiet solitude of his ride.

"I'm almost at the AO, Tony. Do you copy? Over."

A pause. Then, Stark’s voice came through, layered with his usual sarcasm.

"Cap, I’m not a soldier, also do you know that driving without a helmet is very dangerous?"

Steve smirked slightly, shaking his head. "It is a personal risk I'm taking, Tony. But thank you for your concern, I'll use one next time."

"Pinky promise?"

Steve sighed, shaking his head once more as he turned off onto a more rugged trail leading deeper into the Oregonian wilderness.

"You have my word, Tony."

The road grew rougher, his Harley barely making a sound over the damp forest floor as he approached his destination. As soon as he reached a clearing with a good vantage point, he shut off the bike, secured his gear, and pulled out a pair of military-grade binoculars from his tan backpack.

"I'm monitoring the target right now."

As he spoke, he pulled out a small device, and from his bag, a compact drone whirred to life, lifting smoothly into the air, its silent propulsion barely audible against the rustling leaves. Tony had taken control before Steve even fully opened his palm, his voice carrying an unmistakable smugness.

"Very nifty technology."

"I’m a very nifty man, Cap."

Through his binoculars, Steve scanned the target: a heavily secured research facility nestled among the towering pines. The building was white, clinical, more of a laboratory than a weapons depot. He could see security cameras perched at strategic corners, the glint of infrared sensors barely visible under the moonlight.

"What can you see?"

The drone’s optics fed directly into Stark’s systems, granting him a detailed infrared and night vision scan of the facility’s perimeter.

"Well, couple of guards, y’know. Armed, possibly some rifles."

Steve adjusted the focus of his binoculars. "Tangos? How many? Rifles, you say—ARs, AKs, energy-based? Work with me here, Tony."

"Alright, six." A brief pause as Stark analyzed the feed. "They’ve got Colt M4A1s, standard issue, black rifle slings. Looks like they’re wearing… 5.11 vests, nothing too heavy."

Steve processed the information quickly. Standard security detail, not elite but trained. The facility wasn’t designed to hold off an army, but it wasn’t defenseless either.

"Got it. Entry points?"

"Well, there’s a road leading up to the front, and the place itself is looking more lab than storage facility. Lotta windows. White paint. Looks sterile, real high-security science-y stuff." Tony’s tone grew wistful. "Honestly, this spot? Prime real estate. Woods give great cover. Secluded. Perfect for a Stark Resort. You get a deck bar on that lake, maybe a fine dining restaurant with a mountain view—"

"Tony. Focus."

"Fine, fine. Main entrance is through the front, like a proper welcoming door for all those scientists. Then there’s a back entrance, service personnel only, real discrete."

Steve nodded, already deciding his approach. "Understood. I’m on the move."

With that, he adjusted his gloves, took one last look at the facility, and melted into the shadows of the trees. The mission had begun.

Captain America parked the bike deep within the woods, taking extra precautions to ensure it remained hidden beneath the thick brush. He checked the pistol in his holster, securing it tightly before running a final check on the gas grenades and fragmentation grenades clipped onto his harness. Every tool accounted for. Every weapon in its place.

"Cap, you sure you want to do this alone? We could be there in a second."

"You needed time to relax. Every team needs relaxation."

"And you, Cap?"

"They call me super-soldier for a reason, Tony. Now, can you kill the lights?"

"Yes, sir."

In an instant, the entire facility plunged into darkness. Inside, alarms chirped as guards scrambled, moving urgently to secure their posts. More armed personnel funneled outside, scanning the perimeter with mounted flashlights. Steve reached for his cowl-helmet from his backpack, the green lenses flickering as the night vision activated.

From the darkness, he listened.

"Check the perimeter, cameras, everything. Move, move, move!" One of the guards barked as three soldiers maneuvered beneath the glow of their rifle-mounted lights.

Steve calculated his next move, lining up the perfect trajectory for his shield. A snap echoed in the dense brush—deliberate, controlled. The guards turned, their lights darting toward the disturbance.

And then the shield struck. A blur of vibranium, bouncing off a wall before colliding into all three. They crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Three tangos down."

"Nice one, Cap."

Steve retrieved his shield, pressing forward toward the gates. More movement—a duo making their way down the main path. Steve lurked behind the outer wall, waiting for the opportune moment. The first never saw him coming. A swift, calculated strike rendered him unconscious. The second barely had time to react before Steve caught him in a headlock.

"Is this a Carraro or Trask facility?"

A wheeze. "Carraro."

Steve tightened his grip. "Are you lying to me?"

The guard coughed. "I'm not saying. You're just going to hit me anyway."

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Steve smirked. "You’re smarter than most." The soldier slumped unconscious in his arms.

"Just don’t kill anyone, Cap."

"I won’t. And remember, Tony, I was doing this before you were even conceived."

"Yeah, Cap. I know. You’re old."

Another guard approached. Steve barely looked before his shield flew, knocking the man out cold.

"Old, but never obsolete."

"Alright, T-800, we got it."

More personnel emerged, only for Steve to take them down in complete silence, one punch each, precise and effortless. He jumped and swung at the first, then taking his rifle from his hand, then with the butt of his stock he hit the second in the chin, down. The third was down with a simple left hook. Thuds, almost silent as each of them fell down the concrete road.

"Remind me why we have Natasha again?"

"Because if she were here, she’d already be inside."

"Oh yeah, of course."

Then Cap heard a car approaching.

Steve had already spotted the vehicle before it even neared the facility. From his vantage point, he saw armed men inside. Before he could move, something—or rather, someone—moved first.

In an instant, the top of the car was ripped open like a tin can, and the guards inside were knocked out before they even had the chance to react. One by one, their unconscious bodies were pulled from the vehicle and stacked neatly beneath a tree. The car itself? Lifted effortlessly and shoved into a more secluded spot. As one of the guards began to stir, a shield flew through the air, striking him square in the back. He collapsed instantly, out cold again.

Steve exhaled, stepping forward.

"Rogue."

She dusted off her chestnut hair, the signature white streaks gleaming faintly in the dim light. A smirk played at her lips as she adjusted her brown leather jacket, the green uniform now visible under the artificial light.

"Well, if it ain't America's Top Cop. All by his lonesome."

"I didn’t expect to see you here. At least not alone."

"Y’know, the crowd was busy today, but Ah reckon Ah’m just the gal fer the job." She casually picked up Steve’s shield from the ground, tossing it once in her hand.

"You're here for the facility too. The Trask parts."

"Oh yeah, Cap. But also to get that ol’ mean sonuvabitch what he deserves. Now, why are ya here?"

"Same." Steve hesitated for a moment. "The technology we found with... AIM came from Trask."

Rogue’s smirk faded slightly. "And that has anythin’ ta do with mutants?"

"Unsure now, but so far, none."

Captain America extended his hand for his shield. Rogue gripped the strap tightly before slowly handing it over. As Steve went to grab it, she held on for just a second longer.

"We need yer help, Cap. If there’s any chance this thing ever gets to the court, we need Avengers support."

Steve’s jaw tightened. "Rogue, it's not so simple. The Avengers represent America—not just mutants."

Her emerald eyes narrowed. "So ya’d rather see more people die, or at least these people who died be in vain, than compromise the mighty ‘Avengers’?"

"No, what I am saying is… I'm the leader of the Avengers, not their dictator. We vote on these decisions."

"Not everyone would be on board. Especially Captain Marvel."

"She has bad blood with you, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t understand your plea."

Rogue scoffed. "Ah don’t think she would. Ya’d have to promise me—promise us—you’d see this through, Cap."

Steve sighed. "I can’t promise anything. It doesn’t depend on me alone, Rogue. It depends on the team, on the circumstances… my hands are tied."

Rogue’s eyes flashed with something unreadable. "Well, if yer hands are tied, ya won’t need this."

With that, she spun on her heel and, without hesitation, hurled his shield toward Mount Hood.

Captain America narrowed his eyes, clearly upset.

Then they heard it.

A loud clank, followed by a sharp curse.

"Goddamnit!"

Rogue’s head snapped around instantly, her sharp instincts recognizing the voice before her eyes could confirm it. She inhaled sharply, her stomach tightening.

"DUNCAN!"

She shot forward in a blur, wind rushing past as she flew low to the ground, closing the distance in a heartbeat. There he was—Alamo—hovering just above the dirt path, his body relaxed, but his hand firmly clutching something.

Steve’s shield.

Her eyes widened as she took in the details—his chrome mask now bore a fresh scratch, thin but unmistakable, running diagonally across the reflective surface. Her heart leapt, a momentary fear gripping her.

"Duncan, are ya alright, sugah?"

He let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders before shifting his gaze to meet hers.

"Hell of a welcomin’ gift, Anna Marie. No, I ain't hurt."

Still unconvinced, she reached for his arm, fingers pressing against his bicep, checking for any sign of injury.

"Ya sure?"

"I'm sure." His voice was steady, reassuring.

Rogue exhaled, relief washing over her, but guilt creeping in right behind it.

"Ah’m so sorry, Duncan. Please forgive me. Ah wouldn’t forgive mahself if Ah killed Buc-ee’s poster child."

Alamo sighed, adjusting the shield in his grip. "Ain’t a laugh riot, Rogue."

"Gotta have a lil’ charm." She offered a small smirk, though her eyes betrayed her guilt.

"Terrific charm. Throwin’ shit at people" He chuckled a bit "Talkin’ ‘bout throwin’ shit at people, why in hell did ya do that?"

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Ah got a little carried away. Explain it later."

He squinted at her before shaking his head. "Fine. Where’s yer people?"

"Busier than a cat on a tin roof."

"With what?"

"X-Men stuff. Ya know how it goes…"

"No, but I reckon it’ll be long ‘fore I’m interested in that…"

She smirked at his usual dry wit. "Ah didn’t expect ta see ya here."

"Expect the unexpected. We oughta skin our own buffaloes, so I’m here fer that."

Rogue shook her head, a small laugh escaping her lips. "Come, let’s talk."

But Alamo lifted a hand, stopping her. "Now hold yer horses, Rogue. Listen to me—are you mad at Cap?"

She hesitated, her expression darkening slightly. "Kinda, ain't gonna lie."

He exhaled. "Why?"

Rogue folded her arms, looking off into the distance for a moment before turning back to him. "He said if we want their backin’, the Avengers gotta vote first. This is important to us, ta me and ta ya too, Duncan. If we can’t put Trask behind bars, what does it mean fer us? Fer the mutants who died because of his machines? How can they ever trust Xavier’s dream if the trial fails? They’ll—"

"Radicalize." Alamo finished for her. "It’d make ‘em certain the justice system don’t work. That humans don’t work. It’d make livin’ free among ‘em seem like an utopian dream—one they can’t reach without violence… without folks like Magneto."

She nodded solemnly. "That’s what Ah was fixin’ to say, but yeah, that works too."

Alamo rubbed his chin. "But ya know, Cap ain’t a dictator. He ain’t their owner. He can’t just order ‘em to do somethin’."

"He said that. But we have ta try. The Avengers have ta try."

Alamo sighed, shifting his grip on the shield. "Alright, I’ll talk to him. But no more throwin’ his shield ‘round… do ya hear?"

Rogue grinned, teasing. "Ah’ll think ‘bout that."

Alamo’s tone grew firmer. "No. I wanna hear a promise, Rogue"

She rolled her eyes but relented. "Fine. Ah won’t throw his shield ‘round no more."

He nodded, satisfied, patting the shield with pride. "This is a national treasure, y’know. This puppy’s seen more service than the M2 Browning."

She blinked. "That what, a plane?"

He stared at her. "It’s a machine gun."

She smirked. "Oh, how Texan of ya."

He laughed dryly. "Alright, ‘nuff of this. Let’s go meet the man in blue. And unfortunately hand his shield back to him." He chuckled, still patting the Shield like it was prized possession as he descended.

"Alamo." Captain America said, crossing his arms in a small smirk.

Steve Rogers stood tall, his piercing blue eyes locked onto the young mutant. Alamo held out the vibranium shield strapped on his right forearm, his grip firm but respectful. The air between them was thick, but not with hostility—more like an unspoken understanding between a man and his childhood hero.

"Cap, sir. Here's yer shield."

Steve reached out, taking the shield back with a nod. "Thank you."

Alamo hesitated for a second before speaking again. "Now my…" He paused, considering his words carefully. "Colleague."

Beside him, Rogue raised an eyebrow before delivering a sharp elbow to his ribs.

"Ahem—my friend."

She nodded, satisfied.

"Well, my friend here is very sorry. Ain’t ya sorry, Rogue?"

Rogue let out a huff, crossing her arms but eventually sighing. "Ah'm sorry, Cap, Ah overstepped mah boundaries."

Steve nodded, but Alamo leaned in, whispering something into Rogue’s ear. She gave him a sharp look in response.

"No way Ah'm sayin’ that."

"Ya will, ya promised."

She groaned, rubbing her temples before finally muttering, "Ah’m sorry Ah violated yer property rights and disrespected such an important piece of American history."

Alamo grinned, giving her a thumbs up. "That’s more like it."

She shot him a glare. "Ya happy now, Duncan?"

He smirked. "Happiest man in the world, Anna Marie."

Steve watched the exchange with mild amusement before returning to the matter at hand. "Thanks for the thought, both of you. I believe Rogue has updated you on the situation?"

"In a way, yes. We’ll patiently wait fer the Avengers’ vote. But ya could put out the good word for mutants, sir."

Steve nodded solemnly. "This can be done. Carol understands that this goes beyond a species issue—it is a broader fight for liberty, justice, and a better tomorrow."

Alamo scoffed playfully. "How can ya do this to this sweet sweet ol' man, Rogue?"

Rogue rolled her eyes, but smirked anyway. "Alamo, can ya not?"

Steve cleared his throat. "As I said, I’ll do my best to ensure the Avengers remain committed to protecting the people of Earth. Mutants included."

Rogue gave him a firm nod. "That's all Ah ask, Cap."

Steve extended his hand. "For that, you have my word, Rogue."

Alamo raised his thumbs up. "Pretty as a peach. Can we move on to the investigation now, y'all?"

Steve smirked slightly. "Yes."

Rogue cracked her knuckles. "Yup, sugah. Let's roll."

Alamo motioned forward. "Ya lead, Cap."

Steve adjusted his grip on the shield and took the first step forward. "Thank you, Alamo."

And with that, they moved deeper into the mission, opening the door that leads to facility.