In the heart of the Brooklyn military facility, Steve Rogers lies on a padded table, dwarfed by the oversized apparatus around him. Dr. Abraham Erskine leans over, his expression a mix of focus and concern.

“Comfortable?” he asks.

Steve, forcing a grin despite his nerves, quips, “It’s a little big.” He glances at the equipment. “You save me any of that schnapps?”

Erskine chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Not as much as I should have. Sorry. Next time.” He turns to a sharply dressed man at a control panel. “Mr. Stark, how are your levels?”

Howard Stark, his voice confident, replies, “Levels at 100%.”

“Good,” Erskine says, nodding.

Stark adds, a touch of dry humor in his tone, “We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready… as we’ll ever be.”

Erskine glances at Peggy Carter, standing close to the action. “Agent Carter? Don’t you think you would be more comfortable in the booth?”

Peggy, caught off guard, nods quickly. “Yes, of course. Sorry.” She steps back toward the observation area.

Erskine adjusts a microphone, his voice steady as it echoes through the lab. “Do you hear me? Is this on? Ladies and gentlemen, today we take not another…”