In the cavernous depths of Hydra’s headquarters, Steve Rogers, now a prisoner, is held by two Hydra soldiers as the Red Skull emerges from the shadows of his sprawling office, his crimson face twisted in a sneer. “Arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait, but I must say, you do it better than anyone,” he says, pausing before Steve. “But there are limits to what even you can do, Captain. Or did Erskine tell you otherwise?”

Steve meets his gaze, unflinching. “He told me you were insane.”

The Red Skull sighs, his voice dripping with disdain. “He resented my genius and tried to deny me what was rightfully mine. But he gave you everything. So, what made you so special?”

Steve grins, defiant. “Nothing. I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.”

The Red Skull’s fist lashes out, striking Steve repeatedly. Steve drops to his knees, pain flashing across his face. The Red Skull looms over him, glaring. Steve looks up, his smile returning, blood on his lip.

“I can do this all day,” says Steve.