Atop a massive Hydra tank, Steve Rogers, as Captain America, reaches through the open hatch and yanks the driver out, hoisting him into the air. Falsworth tosses a satchel charge, which Steve drops down the hatch. He slams it shut and leaps off as the tank erupts in a thunderous explosion, flames roaring behind him.

At the smoldering ruins of another Hydra factory, the Red Skull looms over Dr. Arnim Zola, his voice seething. “You are failing! We are close to an offensive that will shake the planet, yet we are continually delayed because you cannot outwit a simpleton with a shield!”

Zola, defensive, adjusts his glasses. “This is hardly my area of expertise. I merely developed the weapons. I cannot fire them.”

“Finish your mission, Doctor,” the Red Skull snaps, “before the American finishes his.”

Two Hydra guards drag a disheveled man in a suit forward. The man pleads, “Sir! I’m sorry, Herr Schmidt. We fought to the last man.”

The Red Skull draws a futuristic pistol, his eyes cold. “Evidently not.” He fires, and the man is exterminated.

The scene shifts to a snowy mountain pass, where Steve and his Howling Commandos stand on a rocky ledge, gazing at a rail line far below. A long cable stretches from their perch to the tracks, taut against the wind.