In a dimly lit British pub, the surviving Howling Commandos—Falsworth, Dernier, Dugan, Gabe, and Jim—raise their glasses, their faces somber.

“To the Captain,” Falsworth says, his voice steady as they toast to Steve Rogers.

Aboard a Stark Industries vessel in the Arctic Sea, a technician calls out, “Sir?” A robotic submarine arm retrieves the glowing Tesseract from the ocean floor, its blue light pulsing faintly.

Howard Stark, peering over the technician’s shoulder, responds, “Take us to the next grid point.”

“But there’s no trace of wreckage,” the technician says. “And the energy signature stops here.”

Howard’s jaw tightens. “Just keep lookin’.”

Back at the Strategic Scientific Reserve headquarters in London, Colonel Phillips hands Peggy Carter a file labeled with Steve Rogers’ name. She opens it, her fingers brushing over a photo of a short, skinny Steve at Camp Lehigh, his earnest face a stark contrast to the hero he became. Her expression softens, a mix of pride and loss.