In the heart of the compound, the mission room was a hive of quiet tension. Maps and holographic projections flickered across the central table, casting blue light over a handful of assembled agents. The air smelled of stale coffee and burnt wiring.

At the head of the table, Director Fury stood with his arms crossed, eyeing the team with that unreadable, one-eyed stare that made everyone feel like they were being measured and found wanting.

Steve Rogers wasn't in the room. Not yet. But his shield sat propped against the doorframe, as if he'd stepped out for a moment and might return any second.

The mission brief was already up on the screen. A Hydra facility. Deep in the Austrian Alps. Coordinates circled in red, with a single word scrawled beneath them in Fury's hand.

Rescue.