Captain America stepped off the elevator for the second time, the heavy metal doors sliding open to reveal a chaotic scene. SHIELD agents swarmed the underground facility, meticulously cataloging evidence, securing classified materials, and sweeping the area for any remaining threats. The dim glow of floodlights illuminated the cavernous space, casting long shadows over the wreckage of the Sentinel that Alamo had destroyed just moments before. The machine's twisted remains lay sprawled across the factory floor, scorched and still smoking from the plasma energy that had torn through it.

Behind Steve Rogers, three men followed him into the room—Nick Fury, Henry Gyrich, and USAgent. Their footfalls echoed through the chamber as they walked in tense silence, Fury’s usual composure unreadable beneath his ever-present eyepatch, while Gyrich's expression was one of controlled calculation. USAgent, John Walker, kept his gaze forward, his presence exuding quiet authority.

Fury was the first to break the silence.

"Captain Rogers, what we have here seems to have been kept very under wraps. If the FBI catches wind of this before we do, they won't be happy."

Steve turned, arms crossed, his stance firm. "You let it fly under our noses, Fury. Now people are dead."

Fury exhaled through his nose, his voice steady but laced with an edge of regret. "I know. And I'm sorry for that. We'll act accordingly, Steve."

Steve’s expression remained unreadable, but his voice was sharp. "You better see this through, Fury. Otherwise, my disposition to work with SHIELD might be affected."

Henry Gyrich, ever the bureaucrat, stepped in. "I’d like to remind you, Captain Rogers, that you are still part of the United States Army."

Steve turned his gaze on him, steel in his eyes. "I’m a reservist. My branch now is the Avengers, Gyrich."

Gyrich remained unfazed. "Yes, which is why I must remind you of your liaison."

Steve’s brow furrowed. "Colonel James Rhodes?"

"Yes, sir."

The group walked further into the facility, past SHIELD operatives combing through documents and data terminals, carefully extracting whatever intelligence they could salvage. Steve’s jaw tightened as he glanced at the scene before turning his attention back to Gyrich.

"How is he involved?"

Gyrich adjusted his glasses. "The Superhuman Activities Subcommittee has determined that the relationship between Tony Stark and Colonel Rhodes is too personal. Due to that conflict of interest, Colonel Rhodes was dismissed from his position as government liaison to the Avengers."

Steve’s fists clenched at his sides, his patience wearing thin. The bureaucratic interference was nothing new, but this decision felt pointed, a move meant to tighten the leash around the Avengers.

As they stepped out of the corridor into the vast factory floor, the sight of the disassembled Sentinel greeted them—a stark reminder of the battle fought only minutes before. SHIELD scientists examined its remains, taking readings and analyzing what was left of its technology.

Steve exhaled sharply. "I assume you are the new liaison, Gyrich?"

"That is correct, Captain."

Gyrich adjusted his stance, his tone measured but firm. "I must say, your work with mutants concerns me. It is not the role of the Avengers to interfere with mutant affairs. We have the Mutant Affairs Committee for that. That’s Val Cooper’s jurisdiction. You should refrain from engaging in their affairs without her knowledge."

Steve remained unmoving, his blue eyes locked onto Gyrich. "All entanglements I’ve had with the X-Men and other mutants have been entirely with shared goals to protect the American public, Gyrich."

Gyrich nodded as if considering the statement. "I understand that, Captain. And I respect that. That’s why I’m just letting you know—if there’s any decision regarding how the Avengers deal with mutants going forward, I’d like to be informed, as the liaison from the Subcommittee."

Steve’s jaw tightened. "You’re not an Avenger. You’re not part of our decision-making."

Gyrich remained calm. "Was Colonel Rhodes?"

Steve stopped walking. The air grew heavier between them. Slowly, he turned his full attention to Gyrich, his stance unwavering, his presence commanding.

"We let Rhodes know of our decisions because we trusted him. Right now, you have not earned my trust—much less the privilege of telling me what to do."

Gyrich held his ground, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—perhaps irritation, perhaps a recognition of the fight he had just picked. "I didn’t mean to antagonize you, Captain. I’m only doing my job."

The room remained silent, the tension thick between them. Fury rubbed his temple, clearly aware that things were going to get worse before they got better. Meanwhile, John Walker watched the exchange without a word, his expression steely but there was something about Rogers that Walker looked up to, something about his unwavering committment to protect people.

Fury, watching the growing hostility between Steve and Gyrich, pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking up. "Walker, Gyrich, take a walk. I need a word with Rogers. Now."

John Walker hesitated for a second, his gaze flickering between Fury and Steve before nodding silently. Gyrich, however, looked less pleased.

"Fury, I should remind you—" Gyrich started, but Fury cut him off with a sharp glare.

"Gyrich, don’t make me remind you who actually runs things in the field. Take the damn walk."

Gyrich clenched his jaw, clearly seething, but he turned on his heel and strode away, Walker following him. Only when they were out of earshot did Fury let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Alright, Steve. Let’s talk, off the record."

Fury walked with Steve to a more secluded spot.

"What's going on, Steve?"

"What do you mean?"

"Steve, you let the mutants here. Rogue and Alamo—why were they here?"

"Rogue was doing an operation for the X-Men. The initial lead on the Trask involvement with the FoH was found by Alamo."

"Steve, I respect your judgment, but these mutants—they can go haywire at any moment. They’re not loyal to the Avengers or SHIELD."

Steve’s eyes sharpened as he turned to Fury, his voice dropping just slightly, but not losing an ounce of its weight. "What about you, Nick? Have you been loyal to the American people? Have they earned your trust? Because I heard a machine beg—not ask, beg—for me to kill it."

Fury's face darkened. "That was an oversight. I didn’t—"

"Nick, people are dying. Humans. Mutants. They’re American citizens. They don’t deserve to be hunted down like rabid animals."

Fury exhaled sharply. "I don’t disagree with you, Steve, but what do we do if Rogue decides it’s time to attack us instead? What if Alamo decides we’re a threat to liberty, huh? What then?"

Steve’s lips pressed into a firm line. "You know it?"

Fury folded his arms. "Of course we know it, Steve. The guy put the X-Cutioner in a wheelchair, he smashed the hand of that woman like it was a cherry… absorbed the energy from multiple Sentinels. What happens if these two absorbers go around thinking the world is their rodeo? Who do we send? Are you calling in Thor? Carol? Or will it be on me to clean up, on Robert?"

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Steve clenched his fists. "Robert is unstable. He’s barely an adult. I told you not to use him."

Fury’s expression hardened. "Yes, I know. He’s under surveillance, due to the Void. But what if? Are you stepping in to cover for the mutant trouble? What if Logan goes on another rampage?"

Steve shook his head. "He served with us, Nick. You know him."

Fury let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "He's a changed man, Steve. Since Weapon X."

"And so are you." Steve’s tone was sharp now. "You're not the same Sergeant Fury anymore."

Fury clenched his jaw, his muscles tensing. His voice came out harsher than he meant. "I’M A DIRECTOR."

The words echoed through the space, and for a moment, all the SHIELD agents nearby turned their heads. Fury breathed in deeply, lowering his voice.

"I'm a director, Steve. I don’t get to fight in the trenches anymore. I don’t get to charge in with a rifle and a cigar. I sit behind desks, I make decisions that you don’t have to. I make the hard calls, and I live with them."

Steve studied him for a long moment. "Is that what you tell yourself? That you don’t have a choice?"

Fury’s eye flickered with something unreadable before he turned away slightly. "Look at us, Steve. We’re both over one hundred years old. How many wars have we fought? How much shit have we seen? Dealt with?"

Steve exhaled through his nose, his own memories surging. Brooklyn. A scrawny kid swinging at bullies with everything he had. The war. World War II. But then, since he’d been thawed, war after war after war. Conflicts, battles, fights that never seemed to end. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the silver streaks more than ever.

"We’re old men now, Fury. You and me. We’re elders. We lead by example. And you’re slipping, my friend."

Fury hesitated. His lips pressed together as he looked at the ground, the weight of Steve’s words settling in. "I—" He stopped himself, sighed, then continued. "The world is ugly, Steve. There are things out there beyond our understanding, things that are out to kill us. I just want to have stability where I can get it."

"We shouldn't control mutants, Nick. They're people, our nation is past these mistakes. Past seeing people as less than they are… They're Americans, and we know our value. We fought for freedom, for equality, and that has to mean something."

"I know that, Cap. But people need protection—from mutants too. You weren't there when Halloway was killed, but I was. You didn't hear his screams, didn't see the way Magneto tore through the security team like paper. It was a thing you can't take away from your mind… Not at all. It scarred our people, made us fear mutants even more, and that fear isn't going away overnight."

"We have new heroes now, Fury. The world has changed. Mutants aren't the enemy anymore. Like the ones in Xavier’s school trying to make a difference. If we keep treating them like ticking time bombs, we’re only going to push them towards people who really are threats."

"You don't remember the Brotherhood? The chaos they caused?"

"Fury, the Brotherhood has gone silent for years now. You think maybe that’s because mutants have found other ways? Maybe they don’t feel the need to fight back like that anymore."

"The Sentinel Program, it... it's not just about them, Steve. The world isn't black and white. We both know that. Some threats don’t wear a uniform, don’t march in front of cameras. Some of them blend in, waiting for the right moment. Do you really think we can just let our guard down?"

"Give them a chance, Fury. They’ve earned it. More than we ever gave them credit for."

Cap looked at the elevator, he remembered Alamo's words to Rogue, about how he was his hero.

"The kid, the Alamo... he’s different."

"What about him? You worried about another loose cannon?"

"He told Rogue he looked up to me, not Xavier or Lehnsherr… Me. Not some revolutionary, not some extremist, not even the professor. He sees something in me that makes him think this fight is worth having without losing himself."

Fury was mildly surprised but not that much.

"That's good. You're a good example, Steve. But what if one day he stops looking up to you? What if he decides the world isn’t what you promised him it would be?"

Steve swallowed dry. "I hope so, Fury. I hope I haven’t let him down already."

"Well, we have to get back to work. Those two, Denti and the woman—the Leper Queen. They were at the heart of this operation. We need to interrogate them."

"That’s how they call her? Sounds fitting enough."

"Yes. You’ll be able to talk to them if you want. But don’t expect them to roll over just because you ask nicely."

"I want the X-Men to be with me. They’ve earned the right to hear what these people have to say."

"Steve, don’t be unreasonable. We barely have control over this situation as it is."

"It is reasonable, Fury. They deserve this more than me. The X-Men have been fighting this war longer than we have, longer than SHIELD, longer than the Avengers. This is their fight, too."

"Fine. I’ll arrange for them to be let in. Just key personnel."

"Just Phoenix, Cyclops, and Logan. They need to be here."

"Phoenix, I can't—Steve, you know what she’s capable of."

"It’s important that she goes. Trust me. She’s not just muscle. She sees things others don’t."

"Alright, fine. Marvel Girl goes. But if this goes sideways, it’s on you."

"Thank you, Fury. For trusting me on this."

"Let’s go before you stir up any more trouble, Rogers. I can already feel the headaches coming."

They stood back now closer to the elevator.

"I'll tell Walker to bring Gyrich to New York, I'm sure you'd rather not have a ride home with him."

Steve remained silent.

"By the way Rogers, you should dye your hair again, you're looking old."

"Like you dye your sides?"

"Oh, you have jokes, Captain America?"

Steve stepped inside the elevator, smiling.

"I'll will be in touch, Fury."

"Yeah, get out of my face, jokester."

Captain America made his way out of the facility, the cold morning air thick with the hum of SHIELD activity. Dozens of SHIELD trucks lined the perimeter, agents moving in practiced formation as they secured the site. Floodlights cut through the dim light of early dawn, casting long shadows against the dense Oregon treeline.

Then he heard it.

A sharp thud of impact, a rush of displaced air. A silhouette against the rising sun.

Captain Marvel had arrived.

Steve exhaled through his nose as she descended, her golden hair catching the morning light, her blue-and-red uniform pristine despite the miles she had likely crossed in an instant.

"Steve!"

He adjusted his gloves, turning to face her. "Carol, why are you here?"

She landed with practiced ease, her expression unreadable. "Just making sure everything goes smoothly, Cap."

Steve nodded, his expression neutral. "Understood. I was just about to leave."

Carol’s arms crossed, her stance shifting slightly. "Wait. Something's bothering you."

Steve paused, sitting down on his bike, his eyes shifting to the horizon. The first hints of light were breaking over the treetops, the sky a canvas of deep blues and warm golds. He tapped his fingers idly against the bike’s handle before finally speaking.

"Rogue and Alamo were here."

At the mention of Rogue, Carol’s expression hardened. Her arms remained crossed, but her fingers clenched slightly, as if gripping something invisible.

"What for?"

Steve met her gaze evenly. "They came to help."

Carol shook her head, her tone edged with skepticism. "They have their own agendas, Steve."

Steve gave a small nod. "And so do we."

Carol sighed, shifting her weight onto one foot, her boots pressing against the gravel beneath them. "Steve, I trust you. But I don’t like it."

Steve tilted his head slightly. "Carol, I want the Avengers to support the X-Men in arresting Trask and bringing him to justice."

Carol’s frown deepened. "That’s hardly our fight, Cap."

His jaw tightened. "Maybe it’s not the fight of the Avengers, but I’m making it my fight."

Carol let out a slow breath, shaking her head. It wasn’t disappointment—it was concern. Floating slightly, she hovered just above the ground before lowering herself completely, leaning against his bike as if trying to ground the conversation.

"I don’t hate them, you know."

Steve turned to look at her, his voice calm. "I know."

Carol’s expression remained conflicted. "But they’re dangerous, Steve. What Rogue did to me—that can’t be ignored."

"No."

Steve’s voice was steady, unwavering. He wasn’t dismissing her concerns, but he wasn’t validating them either.

Carol studied him carefully. "Do you trust the X-Men?"

Steve didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled, glancing toward the treetops. "Not entirely."

Carol pressed on. "Do you trust this Alamo kid?"

Steve hesitated. Then, with quiet certainty, he said, "I’d like to think he trusts me. And that’s enough."

Carol’s lips pressed together, her gaze shifting. "That’s a risk."

Steve straightened, gripping the bike’s handles. "Everything we do is a risk, Carol."

Carol let out a dry laugh, shaking her head slightly. "This would take away from our neutrality. People might start to think the Avengers support the X-Men and mutantkind as a whole."

Steve’s brow furrowed. "Is that so bad?"

Carol’s expression turned more serious. "No. But maybe it might work against them. People might double down on the Sentinels. Humans might dig in, politicians might push harder. You stand with the X-Men, and suddenly it’s a full-blown war of ideals. And that’s not something we can take back."

Steve sat with that thought for a long moment, the weight of the conversation settling into his shoulders. The sun continued its slow rise, the world around them caught in that fragile moment between night and morning.

"I made a promise to Rogue, that I'd try, Carol."

Carol furrowed her eyebrows, clearly considering his words. Then, almost unexpectedly, a faint smile crossed her lips. "You want to help people, Steve. All of us do. Maybe the X-Men aren’t the people who need our help the most, but I understand why you’re doing this. What do you need from me?"

Steve looked at her, his expression softening slightly. "I want you to support me on a vote. I want us to give mutants a better chance, trust them a bit more."

Carol sighed, her arms still crossed. "What about the Sentinel Program? We just scrap that?"

Steve glanced at the wreckage behind them. "We’re here, aren’t we, Carol? It’s not the ‘80s and ‘90s anymore. Maybe we don’t need Sentinels."

Carol considered his words, the internal conflict evident in her face. "Maybe."

She pushed off from his bike, straightening herself. "I’ll have to go now. I’ll see you soon."

As she turned to leave, she glanced back, a smirk playing at her lips. "Don’t you want a ride, Steve?"

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "I don’t appreciate being cradled, Carol."

She laughed, floating a little higher. "I can carry you by the arms, no?"

Steve mounted his bike, adjusting his gloves. "I’d rather just drive there."

Carol shrugged. "Whatever you say, Captain America."

She hesitated a moment, then added, "I’ll think about the vote. You have my ear, Steve. Just… don’t expect everyone to be on board."

Steve nodded, appreciating the small step forward. "That’s all I ask."

With that, Steve revved the engine, the low rumble breaking the quiet morning air. As Carol lifted off into the sky, he steered onto the highway, the road stretching ahead of him, endless and uncertain.