The hallway reeked of antiseptic and something darker—decay masked under a thin veil of bleach. Steve Rogers’ boots echoed softly on the linoleum floor as he walked deeper into Vought International’s underground facility. He adjusted the shield strapped across his back, the faint clink of vibranium grounding him.
“This is where you keep your dirty little secrets, huh?” Steve muttered, his voice low but edged with disdain.
Beside him, Natasha Romanoff smirked, pulling a data tablet from her tactical belt. Her fingers danced across the screen as she accessed Vought’s mainframe. “The files Stark decrypted suggest we’re close. Whatever they’re hiding, it’s not just another weapon or experimental super serum. It’s... worse.”
Steve frowned. “Worse than Hydra?”
Natasha arched an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised what corporations can get away with these days.”
The lights above flickered, and Steve tensed. His instincts had kept him alive through a hundred battles, and right now, they were screaming danger. “Nat—”
“I see it,” she cut him off, tucking the tablet away and drawing her pistols. Her sharp green eyes scanned the shadows ahead.
A low, metallic groan echoed through the corridor. Then, a voice: deep, rough, and dripping with contempt.
“Goddamn. Never thought I’d see the day Captain America would come sniffing around this shithole.”
Steve’s blood ran cold. The voice was familiar. Impossible, yet unmistakable.
From the darkness stepped a figure clad in a star-spangled uniform—not unlike Steve’s, but with an air of arrogance. A weathered shield rested casually on his arm, and the smell of cigar smoke clung to him like a second skin.
“Soldier Boy,” Natasha whispered.
Steve squared his shoulders. “I thought you were dead.”
Soldier Boy chuckled, his smirk widening. “So did I. Guess we’ve got that in common, don’t we, Captain?” He spat the title like a curse.
*Flashback*
Weeks earlier, Vought had decided to thaw out their most infamous creation. The world was changing, and they needed a new weapon—a deterrent against the likes of Homelander, who had grown increasingly unstable.
Soldier Boy had been revived in a sterile chamber, his first sight a team of nervous scientists and Stan Edgar himself. “Welcome back, Ben,” Edgar had said smoothly. “The world still needs a hero.”
But Soldier Boy had seen the truth in their eyes. They didn’t need a hero. They needed a killer. And if there was one thing Soldier Boy excelled at, it was killing.
*end of flashback*
The air between Steve and Soldier Boy crackled with tension.
“You’re not a hero,” Steve said firmly, stepping forward. “You’re a relic. A symbol of everything I fought against.”
Soldier Boy’s jaw tightened, his cocky demeanor slipping. “And what are you, huh? Mr. Perfect? America’s golden boy? You don’t know the first thing about what it took to keep this country safe.”
“I know what it cost,” Steve countered. “I’ve seen the price of blind patriotism, of following orders without question. You’re nothing but a thug wrapped in a flag.”
Soldier Boy’s laugh was bitter, harsh. “Big talk coming from a guy who spent seventy years napping while the rest of us did the dirty work.”
Natasha’s voice cut through the tension. “As much as I enjoy watching testosterone-fueled therapy sessions, we have a mission to complete. Soldier Boy’s not our target.”
Steve didn’t look away from Soldier Boy. “He’s a threat.”
“Damn right I am,” Soldier Boy growled.
The clash was inevitable. Soldier Boy’s shield met Steve’s with a thunderous clang, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the corridor. Natasha darted aside, firing at the automated turrets that sprang to life around them.
“You’ve got heart, I’ll give you that,” Soldier Boy grunted, swinging his shield in a wide arc. Steve ducked, countering with a precise jab to the ribs.
“You’re strong, but you’re reckless,” Steve retorted, his movements fluid and calculated.
Soldier Boy sneered, activating the energy burst in his chest. The golden glow lit up the hallway, and Steve barely had time to raise his shield before the blast hit. The force hurled him backward, slamming him into the wall.
Natasha was at his side in an instant, dragging him to cover. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Steve panted, shaking off the impact.
“You can’t take him head-on,” she warned.
Steve’s eyes hardened. “I’ve faced worse.”
As the fight raged, it became clear that neither man could gain the upper hand. Soldier Boy’s raw power was matched by Steve’s unyielding determination.
“You think you’re better than me?” Soldier Boy shouted, breathing heavily.
Steve’s response was calm, measured. “No. I think we’re both broken in our own ways. But I chose to be better. You can too.”
The words struck a nerve. Soldier Boy faltered, his shield lowering slightly.
“Better?” he scoffed, but his voice lacked its usual venom. “I don’t even know what that looks like anymore.”
Steve stepped closer, extending a hand. “It starts with a choice.”
The fight ended not with a victor, but with an uneasy truce. Soldier Boy, battered and conflicted, agreed to let the Avengers take custody of the facility. Natasha secured the data they needed, exposing Vought’s experiments to the world.
As Soldier Boy turned to leave, Steve called after him. “Ben.”
He paused, glancing over his shoulder.
“You’re not beyond saving.”
Soldier Boy didn’t reply, but something in his expression shifted—a flicker of doubt, or perhaps hope.
Back at Avengers Tower, Steve stood on the balcony, staring out at the city skyline. Natasha joined him, a glass of whiskey in hand.
“Do you really think he can change?” she asked.
Steve’s grip tightened on the railing. “I don’t know. But I have to believe it’s possible. Because if someone like him can find redemption... maybe anyone can.”
Natasha nodded, her gaze distant. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
Far away, in a rundown motel, Soldier Boy lit a cigar and stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror. For the first time in decades, he wondered if there was more to life than being a weapon.