Rogue Replacement: A Marvel Story

Chapter 84 - Part 4

Arc 7 - Ch 1: Opening Morning

Date: Monday, August 29, 2011.

Location: SHIELD Facility, Times Square, Manhattan, New York

Steve Rogers awoke slowly, consciousness returning in increments as he stirred. His eyelids fluttered, then opened, revealing an unfamiliar room bathed in the late morning light. The first thing to greet his ears was the familiar play-by-play of a Brooklyn Dodgers game emitting softly from a radio perched on the windowsill. He blinked, orienting himself as the announcers' nostalgic voices washed over him like a comforting tide. He was in a modest bedroom with worn wooden floors and white curtains that billowed gently in the breeze drifting through the open window, carrying with it the sounds of a city.

With a quiet groan, Steve sat up in the narrow bed. His mind struggled to grasp his circumstances as the last vestiges of sleep faded away. How did he come to be in this place? The details hovered just out of reach, obscured by the fog still clinging to his thoughts. He cast his gaze about the room, searching its contents for clues to jog his memory. As the last remnants of sleep faded, he struggled to grasp his circumstances. Movement drew his eye to a tall, muscular man with dark skin standing across the room, who looked at Steve with a friendly smile.

"Captain Rogers, good morning," the man said. "It's really great to see you awake. My name is Tyson Smith. I'm a civilian consultant."

Steve eyed him warily, his mind still struggling to catch up. "Where am I?" he asked, his voice rough from disuse.

"New York City, Midtown Manhattan," Tyson replied, moving toward the radio and turning it off. Don't mind that. It's a recording. Someone thought it would make you feel more comfortable, but they got the dates wrong."

Steve frowned, trying to piece together the fragments in his mind. The last thing he remembered was the plane, the icy water rushing in, the cold seeping into his bones as the world faded away.

"How long have I been out?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Tyson hesitated, considering his words carefully before replying, "A while." He paused, letting the information sink in. "Do you mind if I invite in someone you might know from the war?"

Steve's heart leapt at the thought of seeing a familiar face amidst the confusion. "Peggy?" he asked, hope rising in his chest.

Tyson shook his head, a hint of apology in his eyes. He turned towards the door and called out, "Logan."

A burly, wild-haired man entered the room. "Jimmy? Jimmy Howlett?" Steve asked hesitantly, rising to his feet.

"Name's Logan," he replied in a gruff baritone. His tone was brusque but not unkind as he added, "Good to meet you, Cap."

"Meet me? We fought together, liberated Auschwitz side-by-side... how do you not remember?"

Before Logan could respond, Tyson stepped forward. "Let's have a seat," he suggested gently, motioning to a pair of empty chairs. "I'll explain everything."

Steve sank into the proffered chair. His mind reeled as he struggled to process this bizarre situation.

Tyson sat across from him, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His voice was gentle as he said, "Captain Rogers, what I'm about to tell you may be difficult to believe. You've been asleep for a long time," Tyson continued, his eyes locked on Steve's. "Longer than you can possibly imagine."

Steve tried to make sense of the words. "How long?"

"It's been almost seventy years, Cap."

Steve felt as though he had been punched in the gut. Seventy years. It was impossible, unthinkable. He had been fighting for his country and the people he loved. And now...

"I don't understand," he said, "How is this possible?"

Tyson clasped his hands together, choosing his next words carefully. "When you crashed that plane into the Arctic, you should have died. By all accounts, there was no way you could have survived. We don't fully understand how, but it seems you went into some kind of suspended animation," Tyson continued gently. "Dr. Erskine's super soldier formula, the extreme cold... it worked like cryogenic freezing. I can't explain it on a cellular level, but you haven't aged a single day since that plane went down almost seventy years ago. As far as we can tell, you are biologically the exact same man who crashed in the Arctic in 1945."

Steve felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs. He stared blankly as his mind reeled, unable to comprehend the enormity of what Tyson was telling him. Seventy years. Frozen in time while the world spun on without him. It was impossible. Unthinkable. But somehow, deep in his soul, he knew it was true.

Steve turned his gaze to the gruff man who had introduced himself as Logan. "And you... Logan. You look just like Jimmy Howlett. But how can that be if it's been seventy years? You're his son or grandson?" He studied Logan's rugged features, searching for any sign of age or differences from the man he remembered, but found none.

"Nah. No kids as far as I know. If we did fight together, I'm sure you saw me heal a time or two," Logan said. Steve nodded slowly as memories surfaced of Jimmy taking bullets and blades during the war, only to continue, seemingly unscathed, moments later. Logan continued, "I've got a healing factor that keeps me young, keeps me alive."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Steve struggled to comprehend the impossible situation.

"I know it's a lot to take in," said Tyson. Steve lifted his gaze to search Tyson's expression for any hint of deception but found only earnest sympathy. "But we're here to help guide you through this transition in any way we can."

Steve stared at him for a long moment. He looked between Logan and Tyson, his expression still awash with confusion and uncertainty. "What about the war?" he asked hesitantly, as if afraid to hear the answer. "Did we win?"

Logan's face split into a fierce grin of satisfaction. "Hell yes," he confirmed, "It was an unconditional surrender. The Allies marched right into Berlin and took the whole damn country."

Tyson chimed in, "And taking down HYDRA was a big part of that victory," he added. "You're still celebrated as a hero even today for your role in defeating them. The world would be a much darker place if it wasn't for you, Captain."

Steve's brows furrowed as he processed their words, absorbing this information. The confirmation that HYDRA had been defeated and the war won brought a small measure of comfort, but it was clear his mind still swirled with unanswered questions. He studied the two men before him. They radiated confidence and honesty in their words, yet the situation still felt hazy and uncertain. Could he trust them? Steve searched their eyes, looking for any hint of deception, but found only earnestness. Their reassurances gave him hope, but he knew he would need time to process the enormity of everything. For now, he simply gave a small nod, indicating he had heard and understood their words, even if he did not fully accept them yet. The knot of tension in his chest eased slightly.

Staring at Tyson, Steve asked, "What happens now?"

"Now, we help you adjust to this new world. It's a lot different than the one you left behind in the 1940s, but I promise you, there is still good in it. Still people worth fighting for."

Steve nodded slowly, a flicker of determination sparking in his blue eyes. He had always been a man who stood up for what he believed in, even when the odds were stacked against him. And if this strange future was to be his new reality, then he would face it with the same courage and conviction that had carried him through the war. "Okay," he said, turning to Logan. He asked, "Why don't you remember me, James? We were comrades, friends..."

Logan sighed heavily, a weary look in his eyes. "I had a rough time in the 70s and 80s, bub. Lost my memory completely. I wouldn't know much of anything if it wasn't for the kid here." He jerked his thumb towards Tyson.

Tyson gave a modest shrug. "It's a really long story, both Logan's and mine. But I've got time for the short version if you want to hear it."

Steve crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest. "Unless you've got somewhere urgent to be, it seems like all I've got now is time. The war is over, or so you say. So let's hear it."

"Actually, I do have to get to class soon. It's my first day of college," Tyson replied apologetically. "But we should have time for the abridged version. If you remember Logan as James Howlett from back in the day, then you probably also remember Victor Creed."

Steve's expression darkened, his lips turned down ever so slightly into a frown. "I do remember Victor."

"Well," Tyson continued, "through some… circumstances, I ended up with all of Victor's memories and abilities. In brief, I have a connection to yours and Logan's past even if he doesn't remember it himself."

"Alright, then. Complicated or not, why don't you start from the beginning? I want to hear it all."

An hour later, the three men emerged from the room into the hallway. Tyson made an attempt at casual conversation, remarking, "The Yankees had a really good run back in the nineties." Steve nodded, glad for the distraction. Baseball was comfortable, familiar ground for the man displaced in time. "Back in the late fifties," Tyson continued thoughtfully, "the Giants and the Dodgers moved out west to Los Angeles. But New York still had the Yankees." He paused, "We didn't get a second team until the Mets in the sixties."

At this, Steve shook his head in bewilderment, mumbling under his breath, "The Giants and the Dodgers? Gone?" The scale of how much had changed was slowly dawning on him.

"Welcome to the future, Cap," Logan said with a grin, clapping Steve on the shoulder companionably.

Steve couldn't help but smile slightly in return, a flicker of excitement mingled with the uncertainty churning in his chest. As he emerged from the SHIELD building into the bustling streets of modern-day New York City, he was instantly assaulted by the overwhelming sights and sounds of the unfamiliar world around him. Towering skyscrapers stretched up towards the heavens, their smooth glass and steel facades contrasting the old brick and stone buildings he remembered from his own time. The air rang with the cacophony of horns blaring, engines rumbling, and tires screeching on the pavement. All around him, throngs of people crowded the sidewalks, their voices rising and falling in an endless current of chatter.

Steve felt profoundly lost and disoriented, like the man out of time he was. Everything familiar had been erased, replaced by this chaotic urban landscape that now surrounded him. He glanced around warily, his enhanced senses straining to track each stimulus bombarding him.

Amidst the sensory overload, one imposing figure stood waiting patiently. Nick Fury, director of SHIELD. Dressed in his signature black leather coat and eye patch, Fury cut an authoritative silhouette as he approached Steve with a purposeful, confident stride.

"I know it's a hell of a lot to swallow all at once," Fury rumbled with understanding. "But the world's not as different as it looks on the surface. There's still work to be done..." He paused, his single eye locked onto Steve. "A soldier's work." Fury signaled to one of the uniformed agents nearby, who promptly stepped forward carrying a metal case. He opened it, revealing the iconic sight of Steve's shield. "The world could still use a man like you, Cap."

Steve reached out hesitantly, his fingers tracing the grooves that marked the shield's surface. To him, the shield was more than just a weapon. It was a physical embodiment of his commitment to justice and protecting the innocent.

Tyson, unable to contain his enthusiasm at seeing the shield, blurted out, "If you're not interested, I'd apply for the position." Fury silenced him with a stern, warning glare.

Clearing his throat, Fury continued, his gravelly tone softening slightly in a rare moment of empathy. "Take all the time you need to adjust, Captain. God knows if anybody's earned a chance to catch their breath, it's you." He extended his hand, palm open in a simple yet meaningful invitation. "But when you're ready... we could really use a man of your caliber once again."

Steve hesitated, his mind a whirlwind of bittersweet memories and conflicting emotions. He had sacrificed everything for his country and the people he loved. Now, he was being offered a chance to continue that fight, to carry on the legacy of heroism he had forged so long ago.

With a resolute nod, Steve clasped Fury's hand firmly.

"There's always place for you on the team," Fury said with the barest hint of a smile.

Steve rubbed his forehead wearily, the tremendous weight of his past and the uncertainty of his future converging in a single, overwhelming moment. Flashes of memory danced before his eyes. The roar of battle, the camaraderie of his Howling Commandos, the friends he had lost along the way, and the ones who had survived but were certainly gone now.

"You sure you're all right, Cap?" Logan asked.

Steve's expression was filled with wistful remembrance. "Yeah," he replied softly. "It's just..." He trailed off for a moment.

"I had a date."