----
Wanda kept her head lowered, unable to meet the eyes burning into her from all sides.
The stares around her were like blades piercing her chest, carving open old wounds she tried so hard to forget.
Whispers of Sokovia resurfaced in her mind.
The memory of King T'Chaka's pointed condemnation still echoed in her ears.
"With great power comes great responsibility... yet unchecked, it becomes destruction."
"Just call him," Steve said quietly beside her.
His voice was steady and confident.
In Steve's heart, he believed he had done nothing wrong. Superhuman abilities belonged in the hands of those willing to fight, not shackled by bureaucrats who would hesitate when hesitation cost lives.
He remembered the war and how instinct and decisive action had saved the Howling Commandos from HYDRA's traps.
He could live with his choices.
Even if Bucky's fall still haunted him.
"I don't have the authority to contact Dr. Nolan directly," the receptionist said stiffly. "Only Norman Osborn."
"That's fine."
Though her eyes glared with obvious disdain, professionalism won out. She picked up the phone and spoke quietly.
Moments later, she hung up.
"Dr. Nolan is currently engaged in an experiment. However, Director Osborn is available. Would you like to meet him?"
"Yes."
Under the scathing glares of the lobby, Steve and Wanda stepped into the elevator.
Just as the doors began to close, someone slipped inside.
"Made it!" the boy panted. "Sorry—almost late."
He turned and his eyes lit up.
"You're—you're Captain America!"
"I am," Steve replied, smiling faintly.
Finally—someone who didn't look at him like a criminal.
The kid was young, enthusiastic, and practically bouncing in place.
"My name's Peter Parker! I'm interning here! I'm a huge fan—you're, like, my hero! Gwen's gonna freak when she hears I met you!"
"Nice to meet you, Peter," Steve said warmly. He found himself raising a brow. Something about this kid felt… different. Sharp.
Peter grinned brightly. "I love the Avengers! Always dreamed of being a superhero."
The elevator dinged on the fourth floor.
Peter waved eagerly as he exited. "Keep fighting the good fight, Cap!"
Once outside, Peter's cheerful expression dropped. He quickly pulled out his phone and typed a message to a secure email address.
> "Mr. Stark. Captain America was spotted at Oscorp. Proceeding with caution."
Satisfied, Peter pocketed the phone and disappeared down the corridor.
He knew full well the Avengers had fractured. And he was firmly on Stark's side.
If Oscorp's leadership flipped to Rogers' faction… it could get ugly.
---
At the top floor of Oscorp Tower, the doors slid open.
Waiting for them was a young man, hand extended in greeting.
"Welcome, Captain America. I'm Harry Osborn."
"Good to meet you, Harry," Steve said, shaking his hand.
He knew who Harry was the heir to Oscorp. Rumors said Maria Hill had once tried to bring him into SHIELD's fold, but evidently, that had failed.
Now even Hill didn't show her face around Oscorp much anymore.
Harry led them into a lavish executive office.
"Good morning," Norman said with a charming smile. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Coffee, water, tea?"
"My boss prefers tea," Norman added casually.
"Tea's fine," Steve said.
As they sat, Steve's eyes narrowed there, mounted proudly on the wall behind Norman's desk—
His shield.
He would recognize it anywhere. The decades-old paint was gone, replaced by a glossy metallic coat emblazoned with a large "S".
Something twisted painfully in Steve's chest.
It felt like seeing an old comrade—hollowed out and stripped of identity.
"I'll have water," Wanda said quietly.
Harry nodded and slipped out to order the drinks.
"You'll have to be patient," Norman said smoothly. "Dr. Harker's experiments can be... intensive."
Norman's demeanor was relaxed, almost too casual—like the whole 'superhero crisis' had never touched him.
But then Harry poked his head back in. "Director, today's the King of Wakanda's address to the UN."
At that, both Steve and Wanda stiffened.
Norman's smile widened. "Why don't we watch together? I'm quite curious about what he has to say."
With a tap, the large TV flickered on.
The feed showed King T'Chaka stepping up to the podium at the Vienna International Centre.
His opening line stunned the room:
"I have a dream..."
Quoting Martin Luther King Jr.
He wasn't here just to talk.
He was here to make a statement.
As T'Chaka spoke, the crowd grew restless—righteous anger simmering under the surface.
He likened superhumans to armed vigilantes—loose cannons with no oversight.
He painted a grim picture: unregulated superheroes as dangers to the world, capable of leveling cities with no accountability.
They wielded destructive power with no consequence, no trial, no justice.
And then—T'Chaka publicly thanked Tony Stark for his support in creating a new international accord.
---
Steve sat in cold silence.
There were no villains here. No masterminds twisting the truth.
Just people… afraid.
He glanced sideways at Wanda.
She sat still—but her hands trembled faintly in her lap.
The final blow came when T'Chaka deliberately singled her out.
"There are those among us with the raw power of nuclear weapons… unregulated, unstable."
The camera cut briefly to her image—her face solemn, her hands glowing faintly in the archived footage.
A weapon.
Not a person.
Steve leaned closer, voice low and urgent. "Wanda, this isn't your fault. If Crossbones had gotten those bioweapons out, millions would have died."
Wanda's crimson eyes flared briefly, then dimmed as she drew a deep, shaky breath.
"I'm fine, Captain," she whispered.
---
At the Vienna International Centre…
T'Challa stood by the window, overlooking the plaza.
He listened silently as his father continued the address.
Then—
Screams.
Panic.
Chaos erupted outside.
Through the glass, T'Challa saw a surge of movement, a ripple of terror.
He spun toward the podium.
"Father, look out!" he roared.
He sprinted forward just as a shadow lunged toward the crowd—
And then the world exploded.
A ball of searing fire tore through the square.
The shockwave blasted the glass into shards, and the concrete blackened under the blast's heat.
Screams filled the air as people were hurled backward like rag dolls.
T'Challa hit the ground, coughing, every breath tasting of smoke and burnt metal.
Through blurred vision, he saw his father's fingers twitch alive, but barely.
Desperation flooded him. He yanked a small aerosol from his belt, ready to stabilize his father.
But as he reached forward, another explosion ripped through the building.
Flames engulfed the upper levels, consuming everything in their path.
"BABAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"
T'Challa screamed, but the fire roared louder.
----
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