[Mission "Guard Captain America" , Completed!]
[Reward: +1000 EXP, +20 S.H.I.E.L.D. Reputation, Item "Never-Fading Spray Paint," Item "Painkillers"]
[Item: Never-Fading Spray Paint (Choose any pattern to spray on any surface. Once applied, it becomes permanent , not even divine intervention can erase it.)]
[Item: Painkillers (Temporarily nullifies all sense of pain. Side effects include an inflated sense of invincibility.)]
The moment Steve Rogers opened his eyes, Darren's mission came to a close.
But things didn't end smoothly.
After learning the truth about everything , the decades gone, the war long over, his friends either dead or elderly , Steve couldn't bring himself to stay in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters.
Something about the place felt wrong. Too clean. Too… watched.
Fury, knowing better than to cage a man like that, made a compromise. He ordered Darren to accompany Steve out into the world , to "help him adjust to modern life."
Translation: babysit him.
[New Mission: "The Soldier Out of Time"]
[Objective: Accompany Steve Rogers as he adapts to the 21st century. Monitor his movements.]
[Reward: +1000 EXP, +20 S.H.I.E.L.D. Reputation, +20 Steve Rogers Favorability, 1 Random Equipment]
Darren smirked at the briefing. Easy XP, rich rewards, and low risk. Compared to his past grindfests , wrestling robots, chasing gods, babysitting Stark , this was practically a vacation.
Steve, however, wasn't enjoying his "vacation" at all.
He'd just been told that Peggy Carter , the woman he'd promised a dance to before his plane went down , had married decades ago, had children, and now… was celebrating her ninetieth birthday.
With dentures.
(Okay, that last part was Darren's addition.)
Still, the news hit Steve like a brick to the chest.
From his perspective, he'd merely blinked , taken a nap, maybe. But when he opened his eyes, his girlfriend had become someone's grandmother.
The cruelest thing wasn't time; it was the way time moved for everyone else.
Steve clenched his fists and forced a sad smile. "Well… I suppose she thought I was dead. She had every right to move on."
Darren nodded sympathetically. "Cheer up, Steve. I know it hurts. But hey, I've got something even more depressing to tell you."
Steve frowned. "…What now?"
Darren flipped open his phone. "So, I looked into your old address. Turns out your house was bought by the government a few decades ago. They turned it into the Captain America Memorial Museum. Congratulations , you now need to buy a ticket to visit your own home."
Steve blinked. Once. Twice.
His expression slowly went from stunned to utterly destroyed.
The great symbol of American resilience, reduced to a tourist attraction with a $25 entry fee.
"…So," he muttered bitterly, "I've really lost everything, haven't I?"
For a moment, even Darren , the lifelong Hydra infiltrator , felt a pang of pity.
"Look, man," he said, patting Steve's shoulder. "You can't change the past. Might as well learn to enjoy the future."
"I'll try," Steve said quietly, though the slump in his shoulders told another story.
"Good. Then hop in , I'll give you the grand tour of the 'Land of Freedom.' You'll love it."
Darren strode toward a parked S.H.I.E.L.D. government car, produced his "universal key," and , to Steve's horror , jammed it straight into the door lock.
A twist, a spark, and the car chirped awake.
Steve froze. "…Is this… standard procedure?"
Darren leaned out the window. "Yeah, freedom and all that. Get in!"
Steve hesitated, then sighed and slid into the passenger seat. Maybe this is what liberty looks like now, he thought numbly.
What followed was the strangest crash course in modern America a man could receive.
Darren, grinning from ear to ear, drove them through the city and started explaining everything that had changed in seventy years , and everything that had gone horribly, hilariously wrong.
He told him that modern society had over ninety official gender identities.
That certain crimes below a set value weren't even prosecuted anymore.
That "woke" now meant something very different from "alert."
By the time Darren was done, Steve looked like he'd been hit by a truck full of existential dread.
"I… I fought Hydra for this?" he whispered.
"Welcome to the future, Captain," Darren said with a wink. "Don't think too hard. It'll just make you sadder."
...
Eventually, their wandering took them to a quiet moment by the Hudson. For the first time, Steve opened up.
He spoke of his past , his frail beginnings in Brooklyn, his transformation, and most of all, his best friend, Bucky Barnes.
Bucky's name came up so often Darren lost count. More than Peggy's, even.
Every time Steve said it, there was a flicker of warmth in his eyes, followed by guilt.
"He fell," Steve murmured. "Off a Hydra train. I couldn't save him."
Darren tilted his head. "Couldn't you have jumped out before your own plane crashed?"
Steve went silent.
And stayed silent.
Finally, he muttered, "…I hate that I didn't think of that."
Darren snorted. "Yeah, hindsight's brutal."
...
Their last stop was, of course, the Captain America Memorial Museum.
Steve didn't say a word when they bought the tickets. He just stared at the cashier, handed over his money, and sighed.
"Charging me to see my own house. America really doesn't miss a beat."
Inside, the exhibits were immaculate. Every photograph, every artifact , from his shield to the torn flag he once wore on his chest , glimmered behind glass.
Even his old apartment had been recreated down to the smallest detail. The bed, the table, the framed photographs... and, unfortunately, one very specific magazine on the nightstand.
The cover was a pin-up girl from 1943.
And the magazine was... stained.
A card next to it read:
"Captain America's favorite reading material. Preserved with authentic, possibly personal traces."
Steve's entire face turned crimson.
"W-what!? That's not, that's not what it looks like! That magazine belonged to Bucky! I spilled milk on it, I swear!"
Darren stepped back, holding up his hands. "Of course. I believe you."
He didn't. His body language screamed nope.
Steve shot him a glare that could melt steel.
Before the argument could escalate, a familiar young voice called out behind them.
"Mr. Darren? Is that you?"
They turned.
It was Peter Parker , camera slung around his neck, eyes bright with excitement.
"Peter? What are you doing here?" Darren asked.
Peter grinned sheepishly. "Well, since our school's still under repair, our teacher told us to pick a famous figure and write a report. I chose Captain America , he's been my hero since I was a kid! So I came to gather material."
Steve blinked, surprised. "You… you look up to me?"
Peter nodded eagerly. "Of course! You're the original superhero!"
The warmth in Steve's chest returned for a brief, fleeting second , until Peter's next words shattered it completely.
"Oh my god!" Peter gasped, pointing at the nightstand. "Is that your magazine? Wow! Even Captain America liked this kind of stuff!"
Click! Click! Click!
The sound of rapid camera shutters filled the air.
Steve's soul visibly left his body.
"Kid…" he said, voice trembling. "Stop. Taking. Pictures."
Peter didn't even look up. "This is historic evidence! I can't believe the great Captain America was into vintage pin-ups!"
Darren turned away, shoulders shaking from laughter he couldn't hold in.
Steve Rogers, American icon, symbol of virtue , now forever immortalized as the man who fought Nazis by day and ogled bombshells by night.
...
Steve buried his face in his hands. "I hate this century."
Darren patted him on the back. "Welcome to the future, pal."