In a medical office at the Strategic Scientific Reserve in Brooklyn, Steve Rogers sits, his arm extended as a nurse draws another vial of blood. Peggy Carter stands nearby, her expression solemn. “Any hope of reproducing the program is locked in your genetic code,” she says. “But without Dr. Erskine, it would take years.”

Steve’s gaze drops, his voice heavy. “He deserved more than this.”

Peggy meets his eyes, her tone soft but certain. “If it could work only once, he’d be proud it was you.”

In a nearby room, Howard Stark crouches beside the sleek Hydra submarine, his tools glinting under the harsh lights. Senator Brandt, impatient, confronts Colonel Phillips. “Colonel Phillips, my committee is demanding answers.”

Phillips’ eyes narrow. “Great. Why don’t we start with how a German spy got a ride to my secret installation in your car?” He turns to Stark. “What have we got here?”

Stark straightens, wiping his hands. “Speaking modestly, I’m the best mechanical engineer in this country. But I don’t know what’s inside this thing or how it works. We’re not even close to this technology.”

Brandt frowns. “Then who is?”

“Hydra,” Phillips says, his voice grim. “I’m sure you’ve been reading our briefings.”

Brandt bristles. “I’m on a number of committees, Colonel.”

Peggy steps forward. “Hydra is the Nazi deep-science division. It’s led by Johann Schmidt. But he has much bigger ambitions.”

Phillips nods. “Hydra is practically a cult. They worship Schmidt. They think he’s invincible.”

Brandt presses, “So, what are you going to do about it?”

Phillips’ jaw tightens. “I spoke to the President this morning. As of today, the SSR is being retasked.”

Peggy’s brow furrows, her voice sharp. “Colonel?”