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Fury stared at John for a long moment, then turned to Hill. He asked, "How much vibranium do we have left?"
Hill did not expect Fury to actually compromise, and her surprise was obvious. After a brief pause, she replied, "There are still two thousand grams."
Vibranium was not just rare, it was incredibly expensive. One gram costs ten thousand dollars, making it two hundred times more valuable than gold. Twenty million dollars' worth of vibranium made Fury's eyelids twitch. He glanced at Hill, wishing she could have reported a smaller number. Hill felt helpless, but she could not lie about the inventory, and Fury's unreadable expression gave her no hints about what he was thinking.
"You had better make sure this guy wakes up," Fury said through clenched teeth. "Otherwise, I will make sure you leave America forever."
John considered for a moment, then smiled brightly. "Add a bit more, and it will be effective immediately. I heard there is something called adamantium alloy. Do you have any of that?"
Hill saw her boss's fists clench. Her gaze toward John changed. Usually, only Fury tricked others, but now she was watching him get squeezed. John even wanted adamantium alloy, the ultra-hard metal forged using vibranium as a base. Vibranium absorbed impact, but adamantium was even harder. Vibranium was valuable even as a raw material.
Hill swore that Fury absolutely wanted to strangle John at that moment.
John waved his hand, as if sensing he was pushing too far. "I only need one thousand grams of vibranium. Just give me adamantium alloy for the rest."
Fury turned away, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. John knew not to push too hard, especially since Fury was the future founder of the Avengers.
A deal was struck. John reached into his pocket and took out his wand, then placed it on the old Capsicle's forehead by the hospital bed. Just this action made Agent Hill reach for her gun, but Fury raised his hand to stop her.
***
In a bar filled with warm light and the low hum of conversation, Steve Rogers sat with his team. He wore a military uniform, his handsome face made even more striking by the rugged lines of service. He was the center of attention, surrounded by the bravest warriors and most trustworthy comrades. These were the men who had survived the Hydra base, the men who would go through fire and water for each other.
Steve walked over to his oldest friend, Bucky, whose face showed the weight of hardship and imprisonment. Steve smiled and said, "You ready to do this with me, Buck? Like old times?"
Bucky let out a quiet laugh and raised his beer. "I'm with you till the end of the line, pal. Always."
The team's laughter and singing filled the bar, but suddenly, the music stopped. Steve and Bucky looked up, surprised. A woman in a stunning red dress had entered, stealing the attention of everyone in the room.
Agent Carter, usually seen in a military uniform, now wore a fiery dress that showed off her athletic figure. Her arrival made Steve's sense of déjà vu even stronger.
"It seems your elite unit is ready," Carter said as she approached, her gaze locked on Steve's blue eyes.
Bucky grinned and nudged Steve. "You don't like music?"
Steve smiled, a bit shy. "I like music. Maybe after the war, I'll even try going for a dance."
Bucky caught Steve's hesitation and jumped in to help. "Then what are we waiting for?"
Peggy's lips curved into a small smile. "I'm just waiting for the right dance partner."
Steve's gaze lingered on her, the words striking a chord deep inside him. Everything felt strangely familiar, as if he had heard them before. Peggy's invitation made him reach for his chest, feeling his heart pound.
"It feels real, doesn't it?"
A voice cut through the haze. Steve turned to see a stranger sitting at the bar, swirling a glass of wine. The man smiled. "Hello, Steve Rogers."
With the arrival of this stranger, Steve's world began to twist. He clutched his head as a sharp pain warned him of something wrong. Stumbling, he looked at the man in the vintage suit.
"Who are you?" Steve asked.
"Me?" John said with a gentle smile. "I'm just a stranger, that's all."
John stood and walked toward Steve, raising his left hand to touch Steve's forehead. Steve tried to stop him, but a cool sensation spread from the spot, easing his pain.
***
Suddenly, Steve found himself no longer in the bar but holding a silver shield in his hand. Across from him, Agent Carter stood in a different outfit, her face cold as she raised a pistol.
Startled, Steve quickly lifted his shield. Bullets struck the shield and fell to the ground, flattened.
"Very good, it will be useful," Carter said. She set the gun down and left.
Steve was dazed but quickly realized this was the moment he went to Howard Stark's lab to pick out equipment. The shield was tapped, and Steve looked up to see John, now in a vest suit with a golden pocket watch chain.
John picked up a flattened bullet and clicked his tongue in admiration. "It can absorb impact."
"Who are you?" Steve asked again.
John smiled, picking up Carter's pistol. "The same question again. Do you not have any others?"
Steve was lost for a moment, realizing he had asked this before. "What is going on?"
He looked from the shield to Howard Stark, who had been startled by the gunshot. Everything was too strange.
"I was in the bar just now. How did I suddenly get here?"
John put the pistol in his holster, patted it, and took a piece of paper from Steve's pocket, handing it to Howard. "This is your world, Steve."
Howard took the paper and left, as if nothing was wrong.
"You will find all of this very familiar," John said, snapping his fingers. The shield in Steve's hand gained color, and he was now wearing a new combat suit.
Steve looked down and recognized the suit. It was one he had designed himself, meant for the battlefield.
"Are you telling me this world is my memory?" Steve asked, incredulous. "But I clearly..."
"Think about why everything feels familiar, why you can guess the next sentence," John said, snapping his fingers again.
***
The scene changed. They were back in the bar, but now it was a ruin, the counter covered in debris and glass. Steve sat in a chair, turning to see Carter enter. He knew, without hearing her footsteps, exactly where she would come from.
John wiped a wine glass, his breath fogging the surface. "Does it feel very familiar? Like knowing she is coming and what she will say?"
Steve nodded, watching Carter sit next to John. "Your metabolic rate is four times that of an average person," he said, and Carter repeated the sentence.
He believed John now. This was a memory, or perhaps a dream.
"Am I dead?" Steve asked.
"No, but you are sleeping," John replied, pouring a drink. "You might never wake up. It depends on you."
"Dreams are amazing things," John continued. "Some people can experience a lifetime in a dream, from birth to death, and yet wake up after only an hour."
"Your dream has lasted for many years."
Steve gave a wry smile. "Many years. It seems I have missed some things."
"It is not too bad," John said, pushing the drink toward Steve. "To survive a situation like that, what else could you ask for?"
Steve paused, the memory of falling into the ice rising in his mind. To still be alive after all that was indeed a miracle.
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