Aboard the airborne Valkyrie, Steve Rogers clambers over the massive tires of the landing gear, emerging onto a catwalk. He freezes, spotting rows of sleek flying bombs, each with a cockpit and labeled with city names: “Chicago,” “Boston.” His eyes lock on the nearest one, marked “New York,” his face tightening with horror at the scale of the Red Skull’s planned attack.

A group of Hydra pilots advances down the catwalk. Steve leaps, kicking one off the edge, the man plummeting with a scream. The others spin at the noise. The closest pilot yanks a knife from his boot and lunges. Steve blocks the attack, then kicks the next pilot in line. Seizing the knife, he hurls it, striking a third pilot between the shoulders. The man collapses against the railing.

Steve grapples with the knife-wielding pilot, noticing another climbing into the “Chicago” bomb. He darts to a control panel and hits a release switch. The bomb drops, the pilot—still outside the cockpit—falling to his death with it. Steve wrestles the first pilot, finally hoisting him up and tossing him through the open bomb bay, the man’s scream fading into the distance.

Meanwhile, another pilot slips into the “New York” bomb, sealing the canopy as the craft hums to life.