In the Hydra laboratory, the first Wehrmacht officer jabs a finger at the map on the table, his voice rising in outrage. “Berlin is on this map!”

Johann Schmidt smiles. “So it is.”

The officer’s face reddens with fury. “You will be punished for your insolence! You will be brought before the Führer himself!”

Before he can move, Schmidt’s weapon hums to life, locking onto him. A blast of blue light engulfs the officer, dissolving him in an instant. The Waffen-SS officer, eyes wide with horror, meets the same fate, disintegrating in a flash of bright blue energy. The second Wehrmacht officer bolts for the door, but as he turns, a scream tears from his throat—cut short as the weapon’s beam reduces him to vapor.

Schmidt turns to Dr. Zola, his voice calm but commanding. “My apologies, Doctor, but we both knew Hydra could grow no further in Hitler’s shadow. Hail Hydra.”

The Hydra guards in their sleek black uniforms shout in unison, “Hail Hydra!”

Zola, his face pale but resigned, hesitates before joining in. “Hail Hydra!”

The scene shifts to a medical room in New York, where a nurse carefully draws a vial of blood from Steve Rogers’ muscular arm. Steve, watching the needle, manages a tired smile. “Think you got enough?”