Aboard the silver Beechcraft 18 slicing through the night sky over the Italian Alps, Howard Stark grips the controls, his voice steady. “We should be able to drop you right on the doorstep.”

Steve Rogers, clad in his Captain America gear, adjusts his parachute. “Just get me as close as you can. You two are gonna be in a lot of trouble when you land.”

Peggy Carter raises an eyebrow. “And you won’t?”

“Where I’m going, if anybody yells at me, I can just shoot them,” Steve quips, checking his shield.

“They will undoubtedly shoot back,” Peggy retorts.

“Well, let’s hope it’s good for something,” Steve says, patting his shield.

Howard glances back, a smirk on his face. “Agent Carter? If we’re not in too much of a hurry, I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for a late-night fondue.”

Peggy ignores him, focusing on Steve. “Stark is the best civilian pilot I’ve ever seen. He’s mad enough to brave this airspace. We’re lucky to have him.”

Steve hesitates, glancing between them. “So, are you two… Do you… fondue?”

Peggy, unfazed, hands him a device. “This is your transponder. Activate it when you’re ready, and the signal will lead us straight to you.”

Steve eyes the gadget. “Are you sure this thing works?”

“It’s been tested more than you, pal,” Howard replies, grinning.

Flak bursts outside, rocking the plane. Steve moves to the open rear door, wind whipping past. Peggy shouts, “Get back here! We’re taking you all the way in!” More flak explodes, closer now.

Steve grips the doorframe. “As soon as I’m clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!”

Peggy leans forward, her voice sharp. “You can’t…”