Explosions erupt throughout the Hydra factory as countdown clocks in the control room reach 0:00, sending shockwaves through the structure, flames licking at the walls.

Steve Rogers, supporting a weakened Bucky Barnes, navigates the trembling catwalks toward the control room bridge. On the opposite side, Johann Schmidt stands with Dr. Zola behind him, his voice dripping with mockery.

“Captain America! How exciting!” Schmidt steps onto the bridge, closing the distance. “I am a great fan of your films! So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive.”

Steve, unflinching, swings a fist, connecting with Schmidt’s jaw. Schmidt rubs his face, unfazed.

“You’ve got no idea,” says Steve.

“Haven’t I?” Schmidt retorts, throwing a powerful punch. Steve raises his shield, but the blow dents the metal with a fist-shaped imprint.

Steve draws his pistol, but Schmidt swats it from his hand. The gun skitters off the bridge, clattering into the abyss below. Steve stumbles, landing on the grating.

Schmidt advances, his face oddly stretched, a red mark blooming under one eye. Steve, seizing the moment, kicks out, sending Schmidt reeling to the far side of the bridge.

Zola, eyes wide with alarm, grabs a large lever at the bridge’s edge.