"Skye, Tony and I are heading to Steve. Send me the New Jersey coordinates," Karl said.
She didn't even look up from her screen, merely waving a hand in acknowledgment.
A second later, Karl and Tony shot into the sky, streaking toward New Jersey.
---
Meanwhile, Steve and Natasha drove a stolen pickup toward the same location.
"Just curious," Natasha asked lightly, "where did Captain America learn to steal cars?"
"Nazi Germany," Steve replied dryly. "And we're borrowing it. Also—feet off the seat."
Natasha rolled her eyes but complied.
They drove nonstop from D.C., arriving at dusk.
The location led them to a fenced compound. Rusted wire mesh. A crumbling guard post. A broken sign barely readable:
Camp Lehigh.
"This is where I started," Steve said quietly, gripping his shield.
The place where he trained.
Where Project Rebirth turned him into Captain America.
They slipped inside cautiously, unsure if anyone still guarded it.
The barracks stood abandoned but familiar. Steve could have navigated the grounds blindfolded.
"I trained here," he said. "This is where I volunteered."
"Does it look different?" Natasha asked.
"Not much."
For a moment, he could almost see his younger self—small, stubborn, always the last in formation, never giving up.
Natasha's voice broke the memory.
"No signal. No thermal signatures. No radio frequencies. Nothing."
She sat atop an old obstacle structure, phone raised in frustration.
Steve scanned the area—and spotted a reinforced concrete bunker marked in faded paint:
Quartermaster Supplies
He frowned and moved toward it.
"See something?" Natasha asked.
"Regulations forbid storing munitions within five hundred meters of barracks," Steve said. "This bunker's in the wrong place."
He smashed the lock with his shield.
Inside, Natasha found the lights.
An empty warehouse.
Dusty tables. Broken chairs.
On the far wall—an old eagle insignia.
"This S.H.I.E.L.D.?" she asked.
"Looks like the original," Steve replied.
Around the emblem were the words:
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s beginning.
They searched further and entered what appeared to be a conference room. Photographs lined the wall.
A thin man with a pencil mustache.
Howard Stark.
Beside him—a beautiful young woman.
"And that's Tony's father," Steve said.
Natasha studied the woman's photo. "Who's she?"
Steve didn't answer.
It was Peggy Carter.
He turned away.
---
A sudden roar echoed outside.
The bunker door opened.
Two very familiar voices.
"So this is the coordinate?" Tony called out. Two hovering drone cannons illuminated the room like searchlights. "Looks like a museum."
"More like S.H.I.E.L.D.'s birthplace," Karl said casually. "Your dad helped build this place."
Steve and Natasha stepped out. No need for caution—those voices were unmistakable.
"Tony," Natasha said, pointing to the office, "you might want to see this."
Tony entered—and froze when he saw Howard's photograph.
"Well, I'll be damned."
He stepped forward, studying it.
"Young, handsome… so that's where I get it."
He removed the photo carefully and stored it inside a concealed armor compartment.
"And who's the gorgeous one?" he asked, pointing at Peggy's photo. "Dad's side project?"
"Tony!" Steve snapped sharply.
Tony blinked. "Whoa—what?"
Karl sighed.
"That's Peggy Carter. Co-founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. And Steve's girlfriend."
Tony and Natasha both stared.
Natasha had met Peggy—elderly and frail.
Tony, meanwhile, looked between the photograph and Steve with open disbelief.
"You?" he said. "No offense, Cap, but… impressive."
Realization dawned.
"Sorry," Tony added sincerely. "Didn't know."
Steve waved it off, though the emotion in his eyes hadn't faded.
Peggy didn't have much time left.
And he still didn't know how to face that.
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