Chapter 30: Rogers Worry

Chapter 30: Rogers Worry

Compared to Gotham, New York didn't experience rain very often, and the weather here was generally clear. However, there were a few exceptions throughout the year.

On this particular day, the rain began to fall lightly over New York's skyline even before dawn.

For the residents of Hell's Kitchen, this wasn't good news. Being Manhattan's largest slum, they didn't enjoy many civic amenities. Without diligent street sweepers, the rain would only turn the streets muddier. If you didn't want your sneakers ruined, you had to wear heavy rain boots.

The odors of trash and dust became more pronounced in such weather. Schiller closed the windows on the ground floor since a few drunkards often vomited on his back street, and the smell was unbearable.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang crisply. Schiller glanced at his watch; it was 6:30 in the morning, an unusually early hour even for the fast-paced New York.

Schiller descended the stairs and found a tall, blond, blue-eyed man staring at the calendar on his counter.

Schiller said, "It looks like Natasha has indeed arranged for someone extraordinary to meet me. It's quite rare these days to find someone up and about before 7 am."

The man replied, "So I'm lucky to have found a fellow early riser here."

Schiller produced the dossier Natasha had sent him the previous night. He looked at the photo on the dossier and then scrutinized the man before him. He said, "Steve Rogers, S.H.I.E.L.D. has scheduled an unlimited appointment for you. They must have been quite generous, indicating that your problem is quite serious."

Steve shrugged and said, "They seem to think everything is serious, including me running out without breakfast."

Schiller tapped the table, inviting him to sit down, and said, "Well, your decision was correct. Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't tell you that if you happen to come at mealtime, I don't mind treating you to a meal."

Steve smiled. His handsome face exuded charm and cheerfulness.

Schiller prepared an American breakfast: toast, fried bacon, two sausages, two large hash browns, and two cups of coffee.

Steve wasn't actually hungry, but the aroma of breakfast was simply irresistible. He picked up a piece of toast and asked, "Do you have any butter?"

Schiller looked at him somewhat surprised and said, "Oh, I only have strawberry jam."

Then he assessed Steve once more and remarked, "You seem to be a bit old-fashioned; not many people these days put butter on their bread."

Steve replied, "No relationship, I'm just not used to eating such sweet jam for breakfast."

"In that case, let me get you some homemade sauce."

Schiller fetched a jar and handed it to Steve.

Steve glanced at the coffee cup, which was barely larger than a bottle cap, and the strong espresso inside. He asked, "I'm sorry, but could I have a cup of American coffee instead?"

"American coffee? You could've just asked for a cup of tap water," Schiller quipped.

On the other side, Natasha, who was listening in, spoke into her intercom, "The surveillance subject refers to American coffee as dirty water. Suspects possible Italian heritage..."

Steve wasn't offended; he simply waved his hand and said, "Hey, don't say that. I just think espresso isn't great for the heart."

"Perhaps you haven't considered that your era has passed, and with it, your responsibility for the people. You don't need to be a war machine anymore."

Steve asked, "Then what should I do? I should still do something, right?"

Schiller replied, "Captain America, you are so compassionate that even if I suggested pursuing your hobbies, like drawing comics or engaging in sports, you wouldn't abandon these people's suffering to solely enjoy yourself. You're not that kind of person, and I won't offer you such useless advice."

"I believe S.H.I.E.L.D.'s psychologists have told you the same, haven't they? Is there anyone in this world who doesn't know how to enjoy life? They genuinely think that if they were in your shoes, they'd fly off to Hawaii for a vacation, with S.H.I.E.L.D. picking up the tab."

"Ordinary people can't understand your excess of sympathy and sense of responsibility. You certainly don't need to worry about their lack of understanding."

Steve nodded in agreement. He felt like someone finally understood him and said with a hint of complaint, "They think I have plenty to do, like working out, watching movies, or playing video games, but that's not what I'm supposed to do. When I show resistance, they think I'm just outdated and incapable of enjoying these things."

"But maybe you can change your perspective and stop seeking understanding from ordinary people. The world is vast, and you may not be the hero of this era, but there are heroes in every era. You can seek out those who have, like you, once saved the world or are currently doing so. They will understand you."

Schiller continued, "Moreover, the heroes of this era also face challenges. They don't have your longevity or experience. They may possess power but lack the skills, or they may be scattered and lack unity."

"You can find these people; your era has passed, but Earth keeps turning, and there are still those fighting to save the world, isn't there?"

Steve sighed, saying, "I'm just an outdated soldier who refuses to retire. You're right, Doctor; it's time for the new recruits to take the field."

"But I have some doubts. Can I really be of help? It seems like the rules governing this world are completely different from wartime."

"I do have someone I must recommend to you, though. He's a lucky kid with a story much like yours. Originally, he was just a nerdy schoolboy who got bullied. Then, one day, he gained tremendous power and started leaping around the city, not doing anything productive."

"You know how dangerous it can be when someone suddenly gains immense power. To put it bluntly, his power is still growing, and he might outmatch dozens of well-trained special forces soldiers."

Steve became restless and asked, "Indeed, I've just completed my transformation, and I can't control my strength yet. I even accidentally injured two medical personnel. Where is he now? Which hospital is he in?"

"He's still in school, actually. He's about to take his final exams, currently studying."

"My goodness, why is he still in school?"

Steve banged his fist on the table in frustration, then addressed the listening device on the table, saying, "Hey, Nick, what's going on? How can you let a modified soldier stay in school? What if he can't control his power and hurts people?"

Steve stood up, and Schiller gestured for him to calm down, saying, "I told you, he's a lucky kid. Unlike you, he's not a product of pharmaceutical modifications but rather a unique mutation. His power will gradually increase, not suddenly become uncontrollable."

"What I mean is, these teenagers, you know, full of themselves and sensitive, impulsive yet timid. They need someone to guide them, preferably someone who can show them the harsh realities of society."

Steve clenched his fist and said, "Indeed, I've seen plenty of young recruits like that. They charge into the battlefield fueled by nothing but hot blood, but when they see bombings and grenades, they scream in fear. They have a long way to go."

Schiller added, "I expect he'll finish his exams tomorrow night and likely start roaming around. You can intercept him and give him a good lesson. Don't worry; his mutation ability is quite robust. A little beating won't hurt him."

Steve even looked eager; it reminded him of his days on the battlefield when he would discipline young recruits, and seeing them struggle was one of the few moments in his military career that brought him ease and joy.