Steve Rogers's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Steve and Logan cut through the enemy line for a week. Word spread. Scattered soldiers found them and stayed. By the end they were a squad, hard men who took the fights nobody else would. They called themselves the Howling Commandos. A young rifleman with a steady hand fought at Steve's shoulder in every raid. Steve trusted him more than anyone but Logan. They learned the enemy's leader had a name. The men called him Baron Zemo. He ran a fortress full of weapons that should not exist. Steve chose to hit it. The raid went wrong at the gate. A shape dropped from the wall and landed among them. It wore a shredded American uniform. Its teeth were long and yellow. Its nails were claws. Logan went still. "I know him," he said. "Creed." Victor Creed grinned at the blood on his own hands. He moved like Logan moved, fast and impossible to kill. He tore into the squad. Steve caught two claw strikes on the shield and could not stop him. Logan met him blade to nail. They rolled through the dirt, two animals who had done this before. "Go!" Logan shouted. "He's mine. Get inside." Steve ran for the fortress with his squad behind him. He found the Baron Zemo in a stone hall lined with machines. HeHe reached for a lever that would flood the room with fire. Steve threw the shield. It struck the Zemo’s arm and knocked him back. Then Steve was on him. He hit him twice and drove him to the floor. Zemo clawed for a hidden pistol. The young rifleman shot it from his hand. Together they wrestled the Skull into an iron cell built for his own prisoners. Steve slammed the door. The bolt dropped. The Baron Zemo screamed behind steel and could not reach the machines. "Sir," the rifleman said. "His fire switch." A timer had started when the Zemo grabbed the lever. Red numbers fell. The whole hall would burn. The heavy door out had begun to seal. The rifleman shoved Steve toward the closing gap. "You get out. I'll jam it open." "No." Steve grabbed his arm. "You're the only one of you there is." The young man pulled free and jammed his rifle into the door track. The gears ground on the steel. The gap held. Steve dove through. He turned back. The rifleman braced the door with both hands, holding it for him, not himself. The hall went white. The blast threw Steve into the dirt. When the smoke cleared, the fortress had a hole where the hall had been. The young man was gone. Logan limped out of the ruins, alone. Creed had fled. Steve knelt in the ash and could not speak. Baron Zemo was locked away. The squad had its win. Steve had led the raid. He had also led one of his own men to die for it. That was the cost of the front he had wanted.