Fractured Bonds
The knock at the door was hesitant but firm.
Sam Wilson frowned slightly as he wiped his hands on a dish towel, setting down the pan he had been using to cook breakfast. He wasn’t expecting company. The weight in his gut told him exactly who it might be.
When he opened the door, his expression barely had time to shift before three familiar figures stepped inside, looking like they had been through hell.
Steve Rogers, face set in grim determination. Natasha Romanoff, clutching her wounded shoulder but eyes sharp as ever. And a woman Sam didn’t know personally, but whose presence was immediately striking. Celeste Astra Vale. He’d seen her name in reports—another soldier out of time, another ghost in the modern world.
“You guys look like you could use a place to stay,” Sam said after a beat, stepping aside.
Natasha gave him a tired smirk as she moved past him. “You have no idea.”
Celeste followed, scanning the room as if she was assessing every exit point. Steve hesitated only a moment before clapping Sam’s shoulder. “We appreciate this.”
Sam shut the door behind them. “Come on. I’ll get the first-aid kit.”
The apartment was small but homey, and for the first time in what felt like days, they could breathe. Natasha sat on the couch, carefully dabbing antiseptic over the wound in her shoulder. Steve stood near the window, hands on his hips, eyes distant in thought. Celeste paced slowly, gaze flickering between them, as if she was holding something back.
“I can’t believe it,” Natasha muttered under her breath. “S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to be the shield. Instead, it was the knife in our backs the entire time.”
Steve exhaled sharply, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “We have to stop them.”
Celeste finally spoke, her voice quiet but steady. “Then we start with what we know.”
The morning passed in a rare moment of calm. Sam, ever the gracious host, had whipped up eggs and toast, setting the plates down in front of them like it was just another day. Natasha ate quietly, her sharp eyes scanning the room. Steve ate methodically, lost in thought. Celeste picked at her food, still adjusting to the sheer absurdity of sitting down for breakfast while their entire world burned around them.
Sam leaned back in his chair, looking between them. “So. You guys have a plan?”
Steve nodded. “We need to take the fight to HYDRA. But to do that, we need more information.”
Sam studied them for a moment before standing and disappearing into another room. When he returned, he dropped a file onto the table. “You’re gonna need all the help you can get.”
Celeste reached for it first, flipping it open. Inside were service records, mission reports—evidence of Sam’s past that he had never spoken about.
Steve glanced up at him. “You weren’t just a pilot.”
Sam smirked slightly. “No, I wasn’t.”
It wasn’t long before they were back on the move.
They had tracked down Jasper Sitwell, a HYDRA operative hiding in plain sight within S.H.I.E.L.D. The man was smug, confident—until Steve dangled him off the side of a rooftop. After that, he talked fast.
“Project Insight,” Sitwell gasped out, his voice trembling. “It’s not just about eliminating threats—it’s about eliminating them before they even happen.”
Steve’s grip tightened. “Who are the targets?”
Sitwell swallowed hard. “Anyone who could pose a threat to HYDRA’s new world order. Stark, Banner, even you, Rogers.” He flicked his gaze toward Celeste. “And you. A wild card. HYDRA doesn’t like wild cards.”
Celeste’s eyes darkened, but she didn’t react otherwise.
They shoved Sitwell into the backseat of a car. Sam drove, Steve sat in the front, and Natasha sat behind Steve, her arms crossed as she kept an eye on their prisoner. Celeste sat in the middle, her gaze flickering between the road ahead and Sitwell’s nervous shifting.
Sam glanced in the rearview mirror. “So, what now?”
Steve exhaled. “Now, we figure out how to stop Insight before it goes live.”
Celeste, however, felt something stir in her gut. A deep, gnawing sense of unease.
And then it hit her—something wasn’t right.
Before she could say anything, before she could even react—
Hydra made another move