Their Own America

Once STRIKE returned from Latveria, successful in their mission to cancel Lucia von Bardas, Director Trent explained to them the secondary reason for her death. The primary reason was, of course, to cease the selling of highly dangerous and advanced weaponry to superhuman terrorists. However, as many who knew of the mission pointed out, that could have been accomplished by her just being arrested and thrown in a cell at the Raft. That, Trent agreed with, and that was where the secondary reason came in.

As Agent Barron briefly explained to STRIKE, von Bardas was to be canceled, then replaced by a SHIELD controlled life model decoy, or LMD. That LMD would then attract more superhuman terrorists who were seeking to purchase weapons from Latveria. A SHIELD task force would then apprehend them, and send them either to the Fridge or the Raft, depending on their danger level. Octavius was a level six prisoner and was sent to the Fridge, for instance.

What was to become of the confiscated weapons and technology? Well, that was Level Ten classified. To clarify, where the technology was going was no secret. To the Sandbox, where all unknown tech went. What SHIELD planned on doing with it, if anything, was what was classified at Level Ten.

For many agents, that was just fine, and par for the course. Under Fury, they had long grown accustomed to being kept slightly in the dark about certain things. Compartmentalization – no one could spill the secrets because they didn't know them all. Agents knew exactly what they needed to know – no more, no less. It was a system that Fury, and Carter before him, believed in. It worked, even if certain agents didn't like being left out in the dark.

"Director Trent?" Trent looked up from his paper work to find the redhead who had been accompanying him pretty much to all of his meetings standing in the doorway of his office. "Mr. Walker is waiting for you in the lobby."

"Ah, perfect." He smiled and stood, straightening and buttoning his coat before stepping out from behind the desk and toward the door. "Thanks, Ashley."

Today was going to be a good day. And one that he didn't even see coming, if he was honest. He had received a call that morning from John Walker, the hero more commonly known as US Agent, stating that he wished to join the ranks of SHIELD. His reasoning was that, after the defeat of the Masters, SHIELD was going to need as much help as they could get. Also, they needed a Captain America to vouch for them, and he was as close to Steve Rogers as anyone was going to get.

Trent agreed.

Barnes was floundering on whether he wanted to keep the shield or not, and honestly, Trent wasn't sure if he needed to. Barnes, frankly, wasn't noble enough to be Captain America. He would have been the first to tell anyone that. Walker, while not Rogers, was close, and wasn't tainted by a dripping red ledger like Barnes was.

In short, they needed a new Captain America, and, in his mind, John Walker was that man.

When he entered the lobby and got a good look at Walker, his thoughts were confirmed. He was large, standing at six foot four, and weighing around 265 to 280 at most. Blonde hair, striking blue eyes, a square chin and an Adonis like physique – physically speaking, he was perfect. But, if speaking with Steve Rogers taught him anything, the physical aspect was the least important of being the Captain. "Mr. Walker. I'm Director Trent. It's a pleasure to meet you," he greeted as he approached him and extended his hand.

John took it and shook it firmly. "Director Trent. The honor is mine, sir."

Trent smiled broadly and gestured for him to follow him to his office. "Mr. Walker, when you called me this morning, I was surprised, to be frank. I didn't expect any heroes to join SHIELD after seeing what happened to the Avengers."

John nodded solemnly, his lips pressed into a thin line. "That was an unexpected tragedy. We grew used to them being the mightiest on the planet," he stated, harking back to a familiar tagline associated with the Avengers. "But, that's no reason to shy away. After all, the Army receives new recruits every day, despite the fact that there is a very real chance that they'll die in the line of duty. Me, I want to be a hero. I always have ever since my brother died in Iraq. I want to help people, and joining SHIELD seems to be the best way to accomplish that."

Trent nodded appreciatively. The man had a good head on his shoulders, and better intentions. He wanted to be a hero; who was he to try and stop him? "Well, I'm sold. Of course, you'll have to undergo a SHIELD physical, psych evaluation and the like. Just basic routine stuff that we have to get through before you can officially join."

John nodded sharply. "Yes sir. I trust I'll pass, but being safe is best."

"Absolutely."

They entered Trent's office, and immediately, he noticed that John stopped short and held his gaze on the encased object hanging on the wall behind his desk. "Is that –"

"Rogers' shield? Yes, yes it is." He walked behind his desk and opened the case to remove it. It was lighter than he would have thought. Barnes' was much, much heavier. "Here, give it a try."

John took it with reverence and just looked at it. He swallowed. "Shouldn't this be at the Smithsonian, with the other pieces of Captain America memorabilia, sir?"

A valid question. But considering that, if they wanted to, any thief worth their weight - ie, a certain Cajun thief associated with the X-Men and a particular white haired thief who was like every bad luck superstition squeezed into a leather catsuit - could have easily passed the security of the Smithsonian and taken it, he was disinclined to trust it to anyone but himself. "It should. But security isn't as tight at the Smithsonian as I'd like it to be. However, if it would make you feel more comfortable, we can either have one made for you or just give you the one already being used."

At that, John raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Sir?"

He smiled. "Well, yes. My intention was to name you as our Captain America." Before he could object, he continued. "Because the world, not just America, needs a Captain that can instill inspiration and hope in their lives, like Rogers did. And, if there's anything that this world needs right now, it's hope." And Barnes couldn't instill hope; not like Rogers could.

He doubted anyone could be like Rogers, but then, they didn't have to. They just had to be somewhere close.

John was silent for a long time. In the meantime, his eyes never left the shield. Once they did, they cut into Trent with a burning resolve he hadn't seen in a long time. "Sir, I'll do my best," he said with firmness.

Trent smiled. "That's all we ask."