Brooklyn, 1924.
Three days after the Black Sun attack, the city pretended nothing unusual had happened.
Again.
The damaged bookstore had been blamed on illegal alcohol storage exploding in the basement. Police reports vanished mysteriously. Witness statements contradicted each other. One officer reportedly resigned after claiming seawater had been "breathing" inside the shop.
New York moved on.
New York always moved on.
But beneath the surface, things had started shifting.
Hydra was searching openly now.
The Black Sun Society had confirmed Steve's existence.
And somewhere beneath the Atlantic Ocean, an ancient Sleeper had begun knocking harder against its prison.
Elias stood inside the bookstore late at night repairing shelves while Steve sat nearby sketching silently.
Or pretending to sketch.
The boy had become quieter since the attack.
Not frightened exactly.
Focused.
That worried Elias more.
Steve glanced toward him suddenly.
"You're bleeding again."
Elias looked down.
Blood dripped slowly from his nose onto an old history book.
Wonderful.
Too many divinations.
Too much spiritual strain.
Too little sleep.
He wiped it away casually. "Occupational hazard."
Steve frowned.
"You keep saying that like it explains anything."
"It explains enough."
"No it doesn't."
Fair.
The bookstore bell suddenly rang.
Elias' spirituality reacted instantly.
Not danger.
Authority.
Human authority.
Military.
A tall man stepped inside wearing a dark trench coat dampened by rain. Clean posture. Sharp eyes. Mid-forties perhaps. His hair already carried threads of gray despite the discipline in his bearing.
And behind him—
Another man entered.
Shorter.
Thin.
Round glasses.
German accent.
Gentle eyes carrying exhaustion and intelligence in equal measure.
Elias froze internally.
Abraham Erskine.
And the first man could only be—
Chester Phillips.
Marvel had officially arrived at his doorstep.
Steve looked up from his sketchbook curiously.
The older military officer scanned the bookstore once before settling his gaze on Elias.
"Mr. Rogers?"
Elias remained calm.
"That depends who's asking."
The man reached inside his coat slowly.
Steve tensed immediately.
Elias noticed.
Good instincts.
The officer pulled out a badge instead.
"Colonel Phillips. Strategic Scientific Reserve."
SSR.
Years before SHIELD.
Years before Captain America.
Too early.
This was happening too early.
Elias' thoughts accelerated rapidly.
Why were they here now?
Hydra?
The Black Sun?
The storm?
Or—
His gaze shifted toward Erskine.
The scientist stared at Steve for one brief moment before politely looking away.
Ah.
That.
Wonderful.
Phillips spoke bluntly.
"We need to talk privately."
Elias crossed his arms.
"I dislike private conversations with government men."
"Most sensible people do."
At least he was honest.
Elias considered briefly before nodding toward the back room.
"Steve, lock the front door."
Steve immediately noticed the tension.
"Uncle Eli—"
"Now."
The boy obeyed reluctantly.
Once everyone entered the back room, Phillips remained standing while Erskine quietly observed the shelves filled with old books.
The scientist looked genuinely fascinated.
"You organize philosophy beside mythology," Erskine noted softly.
"Both contain people trying to explain things larger than themselves."
Erskine smiled faintly.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Phillips got directly to the point.
"Something happened in Brooklyn three nights ago."
Elias kept his expression neutral.
"Brooklyn's a busy place."
Phillips ignored that.
"We've received reports of unusual atmospheric disturbances, electrical failures, and armed men connected to European extremist groups."
Hydra.
Or Black Sun.
Possibly both.
The colonel's gaze sharpened.
"And every trail somehow circles back to this bookstore."
Steve went still near the doorway.
Elias sighed internally.
Of course it did.
Amon leaned lazily against a bookshelf nearby, entirely visible, somehow unnoticed by both SSR agents.
That was infinitely more disturbing than invisibility.
The monocled man smiled when Elias glanced at him.
Helpful as always.
Erskine finally spoke.
"You are not surprised we came."
Not a question.
Sharp man.
Elias answered carefully.
"I'm surprised government agents arrived before cultists this time."
Phillips' eyes narrowed instantly.
"…Cultists."
Ah.
Too much honesty.
Steve muttered quietly, "That's usually how he talks."
Phillips slowly turned toward him.
"You involved in this too, kid?"
Before Steve could answer—
Elias cut in sharply.
"No."
A lie.
A necessary one.
Erskine noticed immediately.
The scientist studied Elias silently for several long seconds.
Then:
"You are protecting him."
The room became quieter.
Steve looked between them.
Phillips folded his arms.
"Protecting him from what exactly?"
Elias considered several answers.
None sounded sane.
Amon whispered helpfully:
"Try 'oceanic nightmare prison gods.'"
Elias ignored him.
Thankfully.
Instead he said:
"There are groups operating beyond ordinary politics. Hydra is one of them."
That got their attention immediately.
Phillips' posture hardened.
"How do you know that name?"
Careful now.
Very careful.
Hydra technically existed already, but not publicly.
Elias chose his next words carefully.
"Because one of their people visited me last year."
Not entirely false.
Johann Schmidt.
Erskine's expression changed subtly at that name alone.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The scientist asked quietly:
"Dirty-blond hair? Intense eyes? Speaks as though humanity disappoints him?"
Elias stared.
Johann Schmidt and Abraham Erskine had already crossed paths.
Earlier than canon.
Phillips noticed Elias' reaction.
"You know him."
Not a question this time.
Elias leaned back slowly.
"I know enough."
Phillips' patience visibly thinned.
"Then start talking."
Before Elias could answer—
Steve suddenly flinched violently.
Everyone turned instantly.
The boy grabbed the edge of the table, breathing unevenly.
"…Water," he whispered.
Elias moved immediately.
"Steve."
The silver-blue glow flickered beneath Steve's skin again.
Erskine froze.
The scientist stared at Steve with absolute focus now.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Oh no.
No no no.
Steve whispered again:
"It's closer."
A distant sound echoed faintly through the room.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Phillips looked around sharply.
"What the hell was that?"
Only Elias, Steve, Celeste, and Amon reacted fully.
Erskine, however—
His face slowly paled.
Because he heard it too.
Not clearly.
But enough.
The scientist stepped backward slightly.
"…Impossible."
Elias' eyes narrowed.
"You know that sound."
Erskine looked toward him slowly.
Then, very quietly:
"I heard it once before in Norway."
The room became still.
Hydra's excavation.
The fragment.
The doors beneath the sea.
Erskine removed his glasses with trembling hands.
"There was a temple buried beneath the ice." His voice had grown distant. "Older than Vikings. Older than recorded Europe. Hydra found symbols there no human language could properly translate."
Steve's glow intensified briefly.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Phillips looked ready to punch reality itself.
"Can someone explain what's happening?"
Erskine ignored him completely.
His eyes remained locked on Steve now.
"…The boy resonates."
Elias' expression darkened.
"I noticed."
Erskine swallowed slowly.
"In the temple murals… there were guardians."
Steve whispered:
"Chains."
Erskine froze.
Absolute silence filled the room.
The scientist looked genuinely shaken now.
"How do you know that?"
Steve looked terrified.
"I keep seeing it."
Erskine slowly sat down like his legs suddenly weakened.
"The murals spoke of jailers chosen across generations." His eyes drifted unfocused. "A bloodline tasked with maintaining the prison beneath the sea."
Sarah Rogers suddenly entered from upstairs carrying tea.
Perfect timing.
"…Why does everyone keep talking about prisons?"
Then she noticed the military officers.
And Steve glowing faintly blue.
And Elias' expression.
Sarah sighed deeply.
"I would like one normal week."
Amon quietly nodded.
"Reasonable request."
Still nobody except Elias and Celeste acknowledged his existence.
Probably for the best.
Phillips pointed toward Steve immediately.
"Why is the kid glowing?"
Nobody answered.
The colonel looked at Elias.
Elias looked at Erskine.
Erskine looked at Steve.
Steve looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.
Then the bookstore windows suddenly rattled violently.
Everyone froze.
A shadow passed overhead.
Large.
Mechanical.
The distant roar of engines echoed through Brooklyn skies.
Phillips moved instantly toward the window.
"…Aircraft?"
Elias' spirituality screamed danger.
Not mystical danger.
Marvel danger.
Outside, people began shouting in the streets.
Searchlights swept across rooftops.
Then came the sound.
A loudspeaker echoing through Brooklyn:
"Attention citizens. Remain indoors. This area is under federal investigation."
Phillips' face hardened immediately.
"That's not ours."
Elias moved toward the window carefully.
Above Brooklyn hovered three dark aircraft unlike anything publicly available in 1924.
Too advanced.
Too sleek.
Hydra.
On the side of one aircraft—
A black octopus symbol gleamed beneath lightning flashes.
Hydra had come personally.
And judging by the growing oceanic knocking inside Steve's mind—
They brought something with them.