The Man Out of Time

by Ultimate10

After a 150 years in ice, Izuku Midoriya finds himself in a new world where meta-abilities or "Quirks" are the norm. His journey to becoming a modern Pro Hero will have its challenges keeping his old identity a secret, facing old and new foes, and learning to let go of the past. Does the world even need Captain America anymore? Or is he just too old-fashioned? Marvel/MHA AU World.

33. Chapter 31: Tsurugi Peak

Previously on "The Man Out of Time"

"Hydra, a new radical metahuman organization, are capitalizing on the growing discontent among metahumans by inciting chaos and rebellion, undermining the efforts to restore peace and stability in the region…

"Incarceration of offenders under this act has been on the rise, with various prison facilities across the nation reaching capacity…"

…

"Captain! How're you, my boy?"

"...I've been better, sir."

'...Listen, I've got something important to discuss with you. It's a new opportunity for Captain America, one that could reshape the narrative that's been building in the media."

"What kind of opportunity, sir?"

"It's about the war effort in Japan…but we'll need to discuss it in person. Can you get to LA?"

---

The Man Out of Time

Chapter 31

---

"In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity."

—Sun Tzu, The Art of War

---

Tsurugi Peak Detention Center, Japan - September 2043

Outside Kyoto, Japan, nestled in the secluded terrain near Mount Hiei, stood the formidable Tsurugi Peak Detention Center. Established as one of Japan's premier facilities for incarcerating metahuman criminals, it melded brutalist architectural styles with cutting-edge security measures. The sprawling complex was fortified with high electrified fences, strategically placed surveillance cameras that cover every conceivable angle, and guard towers that offer sweeping views of the surrounding dense woodlands—ensuring no unauthorized entry goes undetected.

The facility was meticulously segmented into distinct areas: a central building for administrative operations and the warden's quarters, surrounded by various cell blocks categorized by security level, and a vast adjacent recycling center where prisoners were closely monitored during labor.

In the austere office at the heart of Tsurugi Peak, the environment mirrored the facility's rigidity and order. Behind a sleek, dark desk sat the warden himself, Tagara Ishiro, a figure as imposing as the walls of the high-security prison he managed. Before him were the chief of security and assistant wardens, all aligned in a row, each having just presented their updates.

The last to present was the recycling manager, a middle-aged man named Katsuro. Adjusting his glasses nervously, he cleared his throat and began, "This past month we've seen a five percent increase in overall operations' profit," his voice was steady, albeit cautious. "The improvement aligns closely with the integration of the latest batch of prisoners. Their labor has significantly boosted our output."

He paused, looking for any sign of approval from the warden, but Tagara's expression remained unreadable.

He possessed a lean, fit build, and his short salt-and-pepper hair was meticulously styled. A stern, angular face framed by a neatly trimmed grey beard and piercing dark-brown eyes accentuated his authoritative presence. Dressed in a tailored dark-gray suit over a black shirt, his appearance embodied the disciplined essence of Tsurugi Peak.

After a moment, Katsuro continued, "If this trend continues, we are on track to exceed our projected quotas for the next quarter."

"We need to push harder," Warden Tagara responded flatly, breaking his silence. "I expect to see a 10% increase in profit margins next month."

Katsuro, visibly unnerved by the warden's stern gaze, shifted uncomfortably in his seat before responding. "S-Sir, with all due respect, I'm not sure if pushing them harder is... ethical. They're already at their limits."

The room fell into a heavy silence as Tagara's expression hardened. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a silver pocket watch, its surface engraved with the Hydra emblem. He opened it slowly, the soft ticking filling the tense air.

"Katsuro," Tagara began, his voice smooth and hypnotic, almost a whisper. "Our goal here isn't to provide comfort. This is a prison, not a sanctuary. We are tasked with rehabilitation through hard labor. Increasing productivity is essential for meeting our objectives." He held the watch before Katsuro's eyes, which seemed to follow the swinging motion hypnotically. "Understood?"

Katsuro's initial hesitation seemed to melt away under the rhythmic ticking of the watch. "Yes, sir," he replied, his voice steadier, infused with a newfound resolve. "I'll make sure we increase the workload. I'll also need to contact Asashi Waste Solutions to arrange for additional trucks to handle the increased output."

"See that you do," Tagara commanded crisply, snapping the watch closed with a firm click and slipped it back into his pocket.

Tagara's stern gaze swept across the other staff members gathered in the room. "Ensure everything operates smoothly. We have a very important guest arriving tonight, and I want no complications."

The staff responded in unison, "Yes, sir!"

Tagara then turned his attention back to Katsuro. "Katsuro, I'd like a walk-through of the recycling facilities. I want to personally ensure that everything is in order," he stated, his voice carrying an air of finality that brooked no argument.

Katsuro nodded again, slightly more composed. "Of course, Warden."

---

Within Tsurugi Peak's sprawling complex, the recycling facility buzzed with activity. The large warehouse bays and open yards were abuzz as garbage trucks arrived, dumping their loads onto vast tarps. Prisoners, clad in orange jumpsuits emblazoned with numbers, sifted through the debris, separating metals, electronics, plastics, and unstained cardboard under the watchful eyes of numerous guards.

These prisoners were equipped according to their risk level. Those with meta-abilities wore advanced collars around their necks, which indicated their status with a simple color code: green for deactivated abilities, red for activated—though the latter was rare and strictly controlled. Guards held remote controls to activate the collars instantly should any prisoner show signs of rebellion.

Warden Tagara walked through the facility alongside Katsuro. As they moved between the rows of working prisoners, Katsuro detailed the operations. "We've allowed some prisoners to use their abilities to help streamline our operations, under careful watch, of course. It's helped us increase efficiency and lowered costs compared to other plants that rely solely on machinery."

As the warden and the recycling manager passed by, two prisoners sorting materials paused to cast subtle glances at them. Exchanging knowing looks, the prisoners quickly resumed their work, striving to appear inconspicuous.

Their path took them past a particular prisoner who caught Tagara's eye. With the number 999 imprinted over his left pectoral, he was engaged in heavy lifting, effortlessly tossing compacted cubes of non-recyclable materials onto a transport truck. He was one of the few whose power-dampener collar light was red.

"That one seems particularly industrious," Tagara remarked.

"Ah, yes, that's Prisoner #999," Katsuro responded, watching the prisoner work. "One of the few Americans that actually has a Meta-Ability. He's exceptional, always completing tasks ahead of schedule. We continually assign him new ones to keep him occupied."

"Does he have super-strength?" Tagara inquired, his interest piqued as he observed #999's effortless handling of the heavy cubes.

"Indeed, but it's fascinating," Katsuro explained. "Whenever we think he's reached his limit, he surpasses it. His resilience is remarkable."

Tagara hummed thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on #999. Changing the subject, he then asked, "And what of Ole Reliable? How is he faring today?"

Katsuro's expression shifted slightly. "Prisoner #505 had a minor incident this morning—he accidentally scalded a guard. It might have been just an accident, but there are suspicions..."

"Not pleasing to hear," Tagara said sharply. "Take me to him."

They exited the bustling main sorting area and made their way to an adjacent building dedicated to specialized recycling processes. Inside, Prisoner #505, dubbed "Ole Reliable," was a tall, robust man with an imposing presence. His features were sharp and angular, with high cheekbones and intense, dark eyes. His hair was jet black, styled back from his face to keep it from obstructing his view, adding to his stern appearance.

Around his neck was a power-dampener collar with the lights turned red, allowing him to actively use his Meta-Ability. He directed scalding hot steam from his palms onto the surfaces of large machinery, effectively sterilizing them in a cloud of vapor.

"Mr. Todoroki," Tagara greeted as they approached the working man.

Todoroki Junnosuke paused, turning to face the warden with a cautious expression.

"Staying out of trouble, I hope?" Tagara asked in a tone that bordered on cordial but carried an undercurrent of authority.

"Yes, sir," Junnosuke replied, wiping his hands on his jumpsuit.

Warden Tagara frowned slightly. "I heard about this morning's incident. Care to explain?"

"...It was an accident, sir. I assure you," Junnosuke maintained, his voice steady yet respectful.

"I would hate to believe you're becoming complacent, Todoroki," Warden Tagara said, pulling out his pocket watch and flipping it open. "You've set an exceptional standard for the others in Cellblock 1, and it would be most unfortunate to see you lose that distinction."

The soft ticking of the watch permeated the space, capturing Junnosuke's attention as his eyes followed the hypnotic sweep of the second hand. "I…I understand, sir. It won't happen again," he replied, his voice unusually monotonous.

"Wonderful," Warden Tagara replied, snapping the watch shut and returning it to his pocket. "Continue the excellent work, Mr. Todoroki."

As Warden Tagara and Katsuro departed, leaving Junnosuke to his task, the warden allowed himself a subtle sneer.

---

Camp Kyoko, Japan

Just outside the historical city of Kyoto, the air buzzed with the restless energy of NATO troops gathered for a USO show. Bathed in the soft glow of the mid-evening sun, a makeshift stage was set up in an open field within the military base. Rows of uniformed soldiers filled the space, their faces reflecting a blend of fatigue and eager anticipation.

Izuku Midoriya, dressed in his Captain America costume, stepped onto the stage to the sound of a moderate applause, his triangular shield gleaming under the stage lights with its new star-spangled paint job.

He approached the microphone with a confident smile. "Good evening! I want to start off by congratulating all of you on your hard work and dedication in pushing the opposition back to the western coasts," Izuku began, his voice carrying over the crowd. He paused, hoping to lighten the mood, "Just think, pretty soon they'll have to swim home because you've taken all their boats."

The joke fell flat, met with a few scattered chuckles but mostly indifferent stares.

Undeterred, Izuku continued, his tone growing more earnest. "Seriously though, I want to express my deepest respect and gratitude for all the sacrifices you've made. Super or not, you are the true heroes in this fight."

A moment of silence followed, then a voice from the crowd shouted back, harsh and loud enough to cut through the growing murmurs. "Get off the damn stage, you dork! Bring on the real entertainment!"

Others joined in, a chorus of agreement and booing that grew louder. Cans and other small debris began flying towards the stage, prompting Izuku to raise his shield defensively, blocking the incoming objects.

Izuku quickly retreated, his exit covered by the hurried steps of the announcer rushing back to the microphone.

"W-With that out of the way, let's get to the main act!" the announcer stammered, eager to regain control of the situation. "Everyone, please welcome—from Tokyo—Porno Graffitti!"

As the Japanese rock band took the stage, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The crowd erupted into cheers, the soldiers' energy reigniting with the appearance of the beloved musicians.

"Hello, Camp Kyoto!" The lead singer greeted in accented English, the crowd responding with enthusiastic applause. "Thank you for your hard work and sacrifices!" He repeated the message in Japanese, adding, "Tonight, let us serve you!"

With that, the opening chords of "THE DAY" filled the air, and the show truly began.

"~You see the surprise! A new day's upon you! You bite your nails and your knees start to tremble! The time is upon you to show them what you can do! And soon they will know that THE DAY HAS COME!~"

The crowd erupted into applause as the rock music played through the speakers.

Backstage, Izuku leaned against a support post, his shield resting beside him as he let out a heavy sigh. 'Yeah… That went about how I thought it would go.' He dryly mused.

"Don't take it personally, Cap," the main announcer said, approaching him with a sympathetic pat on the back. "I'm sure they'll warm up to you…in time."

"Sure..." Izuku replied evenly.

He then walked off to a quieter part of the base, away from the noise of the USO show.

---

Izuku sat under the canopy of his modest trailer, set a distance away from the barracks. Still dressed in his Captain America costume, minus the winged helmet, he had removed his blue contact lenses, revealing his natural green eye color. He doodled absently in his notebook—a whimsical self-portrait of him as a monkey decked out in a star-spangled outfit, balancing on a unicycle.

The distant rumble of thunder echoed as dark clouds rolled across the sky. His concentration on the drawing was broken by the approaching footsteps of someone.

"It's good to see you again, kid." The man was Howard Shield. He wore brown loafers, grey dress pants, a white buttoned shirt under a grey vest, and a black raincoat draped over his shoulders to ward off the chill in the air. An unopened umbrella was tucked smartly under his arm.

Howard's eyes scanned Izuku's frame with a hint of surprise. "You've really bulked up. Been working out?" He joked.

Izuku managed a slight smirk, responding with a touch of dry humor, "Almost every day… for over a year."

Howard chuckled as he took a seat beside Izuku, not bothering to open his umbrella just yet. "How have you been, Midoriya?" he inquired, settling into the conversation with ease.

"Well," Izuku began, his fingers pausing over the sketch in his notebook, "I trained for over nine months with special forces groups. And instead of being deployed, I put on this costume to talk about the evils of meta-discrimination across America. People either love or hate me, mostly the latter since they think I'm some propaganda tool… and they're not wrong to feel that way."

"And now, I'm here, doing the same thing in front of battle-weary troops. So… all to say… I'm doing peachy," Izuku concluded with evident sarcasm.

Howard looked at Izuku with a blend of sympathy and regret. He sighed heavily, "I'm sorry. I don't understand what Senator Brandt is thinking with all of this."

Izuku, though he agreed, offered a defense, "Well, at least he's got me doing this. Phillips would have me stuck in a lab."

Howard glanced down at the notebook, noticing the drawing of the monkey. "So… These are your options, huh? A lab rat… or dancing monkey." He shook his head, his frown deepening. "You're meant for more than this, kid. I'm… I'm sorry I can't do more. If only Doctor Hatsume were here. She'd have put a stop to all of this."

Izuku's expression darkened with sorrow at the mention of Teruko. It was hard to believe that more than a year had passed since her death; the pain still felt fresh and raw in his mind.

He then looked out at the distant mountains beyond the base, becoming introspective. "I've spent my whole life needing to depend on others to live. I wanted to join the military so I could give back. And now that I have the ability to do so…" he paused, his gaze falling to his costume. "…I'm wearing tights."

As they sat in silence, the first drops of rain began to fall, softly pattering against the canopy overhead, marking the onset of a stormy evening. The somber atmosphere around the small trailer was interrupted by the distant applause from the USO show.

"Sounds like they're having fun," Izuku commented.

Howard's expression turned sympathetic as he recalled the earlier incident. "Sorry about that icy reception those boys gave you."

"It's okay, I get it. They've been through hell," Izuku murmured. "Last thing they want to see is someone like me trying to cheer them up."

He then looked back at Howard with a mix of curiosity and concern. "By the way, do you know where the SSR troops are? I thought they were stationed here."

Howard's demeanor shifted, his voice hesitant as he divulged, "I… actually came to tell you about that." He paused, measuring his words carefully, the gravity of the news weighing heavily on him.

Izuku's face tightened with concern, sensing the seriousness in Howard's tone.

"Three weeks ago, the 9th Infantry was engaging Hydra forces hiding out at Mount Hiei," Howard began, his voice low. "We lost the whole infantry. Those who weren't killed were captured. I'm sorry, Midoriya."

'No…' Izuku's heart sank with each word. Dropping his notebook, he immediately sprang up and began running.

---

Inside a modest metal building that served as the base's headquarters, Colonel Phillips sat in his office, burdened with the grim task of signing condolence letters for the families of soldiers lost in recent battles. His focus on the somber duty was interrupted when Izuku Midoriya burst through the doorway, urgency etched across his features.

"Colonel Phillips!" Izuku called out, drawing the officer's attention away from the papers.

Phillips looked up, his expression sardonic. "Well, if it isn't the 'Star-Spangled Man with a Plan'. Tell me, what grand plan do you have today?"

Izuku's expression remained serious, betraying no reaction to Phillips' tone. "I need the casualty list from the battle at Mount Hiei, sir."

"You don't get to give me orders, 'Captain'," Phillips retorted, emphasizing the title with a hint of disdain.

"I just want to know if my former A.M.P recruits made it out or not," Izuku persisted, his voice tinged with desperation.

At that moment, Howard Shield entered the room, his raincoat dripping from a recent downpour. He caught the tail end of the conversation, prompting a sharp look from Phillips. "Shield, sharing sensitive information to lower ranks without authorization is not permitted."

"What're you talking about, sir? He's a captain," Howard interjected, defending Izuku's right to inquire.

"In name only!" Phillips shot back, unyielding.

"Please, sir," Izuku interjected, his voice thick with emotion. "I just need to know what happened to them. Corporal Peggy Yamamoto, Private James Barnes, Private James Howlett, and—"

"I know their names, son," Phillips interrupted, his tone softening slightly under the weight of the young man's concern. He sighed and stood, walking over to a map of the area pinned to the wall. "A Hydra platoon had set up a camp on the south side of Mount Hiei. Our 9th Infantry thought they had them cornered, but it was a trap. They were quickly overwhelmed; some wielded powers that decimated our forces like they were nothing."

Izuku's concern deepened. "How many casualties?"

Phillips shook his head, his expression grim. "Too many. We couldn't identify all the bodies. So, it's possible your friends are either dead beyond recognition or captured."

A heavy silence followed, the gravity of the situation settling over Izuku. After a moment, he gathered himself, his voice tinged with a mix of hope and urgency. "Then, do we know where the survivors might be held? Are there any plans for a rescue mission?"

Phillips was quick to respond, pointing to a spot on the map. "Our best intelligence suggests they may be held at Tsurugi Peak Detention Center. It's heavily fortified, filled with the most dangerous metahumans in Japan. A rescue operation there would likely cost more lives than it would save. Of course I don't expect you to understand that since you're some metahuman motivational speaker."

Silence hung in the air, thick with tension as Izuku processed the Colonel's words. Izuku's jaw set firmly, his resolve hardening as he broke the silence. "...I think I understand just fine, sir."

"Then understand it somewhere else," Phillips replied, dismissing him with a wave of his hand as he sat back down to continue his letters. "If I read those posters correctly, you've got somewhere to be in 30 minutes."

Glancing once more at the map, Izuku noted the map coordinates of Tsurugi Peak Detention Center. "Yes, sir," he acknowledged quietly, "I do." He turned and left the office quickly.

Howard, having observed the entire exchange, noted the determined look in Izuku's eyes and the precise way he had studied the map. 'Is that kid seriously planning to do what I think he is?'

Phillips, meanwhile, seemed oblivious as he focused on his task. "If you got something to say, Mr. Shield, now's a good time to keep it to yourself," he remarked without looking up.

Howard gave a curt nod, then quickly followed Izuku out.

---

Izuku paced back and forth in his small trailer, his movements swift and decisive. He'd thrown his casual brown leather jacket over his stage costume, giving him a somewhat incongruous look as he stuffed a small bag with various essentials.

As he zipped up the bag, the door creaked open, and Howard stepped inside, his expression a mix of concern and disbelief. "You're actually planning to infiltrate Tsurugi Peak, aren't you?"

"I am," Izuku replied simply, strapping the bag on his waist with his utility belt.

Howard sighed, running a hand through his slicked-back hair. "Kid, I want to be optimistic too, but chances are your friends are already dead."

"You don't know that," Izuku retorted, his voice firm. "Until I see their bodies myself, I refuse to believe it." With a leather strap, he slung his prop shield over his back.

Howard stepped in front of him, blocking the doorway. "You're planning to go no matter what I say, aren't you?"

Izuku met his gaze squarely. "Mr. Shield, did you mean it when you said I was meant for more than this?"

Seeing the resolve in the young man's eyes, Howard nodded slowly. "I did."

"Then you have to let me go," Izuku insisted, his voice carrying a quiet intensity.

Howard held up a hand, pausing for a moment. "Wait, if you're serious about this, then you're going to need a serious game plan." He lowered his hand and gestured towards the door. "Come with me."

Curiosity piqued, Izuku followed Howard out into the rain, heading towards another part of the base.

---

Inside the dimly lit motor pool office, the glow of Howard's laptop cast stark shadows, revealing plans and aerial footage of Tsurugi Peak Detention Center. Rain pattered rhythmically on the metal roof as Howard briefed Izuku.

"I've been conducting recon on Tsurugi Peak using drones. Along with gathering crucial intelligence on the terrain and the prison's security protocols," he explained, cycling through images, "I've confirmed that the prison also operates as a recycling center. Prisoners are used to sort through garbage and extract valuable materials. However, I haven't directly confirmed the presence of the 9th Infantry survivors. The prisoners' jumpsuits and masks prevent identification from aerial views."

"Then how can we be certain they're there?" Izuku inquired, his voice tinged with concern.

Howard brought up several aerial images on his laptop, his finger gliding across the screen as he zoomed in on a particular section within the recycling sector of the facility. "Recognize this, soldier?" he prompted.

Izuku leaned closer, his gaze intensifying as he studied the screen. Scattered materials were arranged in a distinct pattern: ··· — — — ···.

"Morse code. SOS," Izuku recognized immediately.

"Exactly," Howard affirmed. "It's cleverly disguised and has been repeated in various parts of the recycling sector consistently over the past three weeks since Mount Hiei." He switched to another image displaying a different pattern. "And look at this one," he pointed.

··– – –

"2," Izuku translated quickly.

"Likely referring to Cellblock 2," Howard explained, pulling up the prison's blueprints. "Tsurugi Peak is segmented into three major cell blocks: High-Security for those with dangerous abilities, General Population for regular surveillance, and a smaller Isolation Ward." His gaze met Izuku's, heavy with implication. "General Population is Cellblock 2. Hardly a coincidence."

'They could still be alive then…' Izuku absorbed the gravity of the situation, feeling a mix of hope and dread. He then raised a critical question, "If Hydra is operating Tsurugi Peak, why hasn't the Japan Defense Force intervened or sought help to retake it?"

Howard zoomed in on another image showing guards performing routine checks. "Because everything appears normal on the surface. There's no release of metahumans, no visible Hydra insignias. Without concrete evidence, the Japanese government hasn't prioritized an investigation. To be fair, they're likely overwhelmed with the ongoing war and other internal crises."

Understanding the complexities, yet frustrated by the apparent inaction, Izuku nodded slowly. As thunder echoed outside, he pondered their next move. "This storm might mask my approach, but we need to move quickly before it clears. What's the security setup like?"

Howard showed images of watchtowers encircling the facility, all providing clear views of the main access road. "Security is tight around the perimeter, especially along the main road. Watchtowers on all sides give clear coverage."

Izuku nodded thoughtfully. "So, it's airtight. I'll need a can opener to get inside..."

Howard smirked slightly. "I might not have a can opener on me, but I might have something better. There's a catch, though. Can you drive stick?"

Izuku raised an eyebrow, curious. "Yes, I learned during training. Why?"

---

Outside the bustling city limits of Kyoto, a garbage truck with a white cab and blue hopper with white lettering that read in Japanese: Asahi Waste Solutions, pulled up to an empty alley. It groaned and hissed as it lifted a large dumpster and emptied its contents into the hopper.

The driver was a middle-aged rotund man with a large blue worker jacket and a highlight green vest over it. On his head was a blue hard hat with a white 'A' imprinted on the front.

The driver sighed with relief. "Finally. Last one." As he prepared to drive off, a tapping on the window startled him. He rolled it down, confronting Izuku who stood outside. "What? What do you—"

Before he could finish, Izuku pressed a rag doused with chloroform against his face. "Sorry, sir." Izuku murmured apologetically in Japanese as the driver slumped over unconscious.

"Tsurugi Peak has a regular schedule for garbage trucks, and the security at the west side gate is relatively lax compared to the main entrance," Howard had explained, his tone serious but encouraging. "And fortunately, this truck is scheduled to pick up a load here, outside Kyoto city limits, at 19:00." He pointed to a specific street address on his laptop screen. "After that, it's scheduled to head to the prison and arrive at 20:00."

"So I need to commandeer the truck. What about when I get to the prison? Won't they want to verify I'm an actual employee of the garbage company?"

Howard smirked confidently. "I got you covered there, kid."

Izuku carefully lowered the unconscious driver into the dumpster, protecting him from the rain, before slipping into the driver's blue jacket and vest over his own costume for added disguise; thankfully the driver's clothes were big enough to do so. He then adjusted the blue hard hat on his head.

'What are the chances his helmet would have an A on it?' He inwardly mused.

Checking the forged ID badge hanging from a lanyard around his neck, he mused, "Mr. Shield really is a technical wizard."

Before heading to the truck, Izuku felt guilty for the innocent driver and quickly placed all of his yen from his wallet atop the unconscious man. "For your troubles, sir."

Izuku then ran back to the truck. Before entering the cab, he turned his attention to the fuel tanks. Grabbing his duffle bag off to the side, he strategically placed two block-shaped devices to the undercarriage near the fuel tanks, muttering, "Let's hope this works…"

With that done, he climbed into the cab and shifted the truck into gear. He gripped the steering wheel as he navigated the garbage truck out of the alley and through the slick, rain-soaked streets. Merging onto the road that led to Tsurugi Peak, a digital jingle chimed from inside his jacket. Reaching into it, Izuku retrieved a yellow-and-black satellite phone and answered.

"Izuku, you in the truck?" Howard's voice crackled with static over the line.

"Affirmative."

"Good work, kid. Now listen, once you've freed our boys, call me ASAP. I'll have reinforcements sent for extraction." His voice grew stern. "Phillips is going to have a fit when he finds out we went behind his back."

"I'll deal with it," Izuku assured him, easing the truck around a corner carefully due to the rain. "Right now, there are people in there counting on us."

"Godspeed, Midoriya. I have faith in you." With that, the line went dead.

Setting the phone back in his jacket's inner pocket, Izuku focused on the road ahead and couldn't help but humorously reflect, "Some heroes ride in on a white horse... while I drive a garbage truck?" He shook his head, smiling slightly. "Not exactly the heroic entrance I always envisioned."

---

Tsurugi Peak Detention Center, Japan

In Warden Tagara Ishiro's office, the persistent tick of an ornate clock echoed against the walls. Seated at his desk, Tagara held the phone to his ear, his tone crisp and authoritative.

"Ensure the tea is exactly as specified—Imperial Golden Tips, nothing less," Tagara instructed, his voice leaving no room for error. "And the accompaniments—Senbei, Wagashi, and Mochi—must be fresh, understood?"

As he listened to the affirmative responses from the kitchen staff, Tagara's eyes scanned a tablet on his desk. "See that you have it all ready soon. And remember, everything must be perfect. Our guest is not one to be kept waiting or disappointed."

Hanging up the phone with a definitive click, Tagara stood and straightened his dark-gray suit. He walked over to a small, ornate mirror hanging on the wall, adjusting his tie and smoothing back his hair, ensuring every detail of his appearance was impeccable.

From his pocket, he retrieved a small silver pin, the Hydra emblem gleaming under the office's subdued lighting. With precise movements, he affixed it to the lapel of his suit. As he adjusted the pin, his reflection stared back at him, the weight of the evening's importance reflected in his dark eyes.

The rumble of thunder from outside drew his attention away from the mirror. He glanced at his watch, noting the time with a nod. 'Almost time,' he thought, grabbing a black trench coat from a coat stand near the door.

Slipping on his coat, Warden Tagara exited his office and made his way down a hallway and up a flight of stairs. When he emerged onto the helipad, the chill of the rain and the buffeting wind caused his trench coat to flutter around him. He didn't have to wait long before the distant sound of helicopter blades slicing through the air grew louder.

Glancing at his pocket watch, Tagara confirmed the time with a nod. 'On time, as expected of him,' he thought, snapping the watch shut and stowing it away. Standing resolute against the wind, he fixed his gaze on the approaching lights that pierced the gloomy evening sky.

Moments later, the helicopter made a skillful descent onto the helipad despite the adverse weather, its landing lights casting stark, elongated shadows on the ground. As the rotors wound down, Tagara buttoned his coat and braced himself for the arrival.

The helicopter door slid open, and two figures emerged—one a pilot, who immediately opened an umbrella to shield his companion from the rain. The second figure was a tall, muscular man dressed in a pristine black suit, with sharp facial features and short white hair.

As the man approached, Tagara bowed deeply, a gesture of respect and submission. "Welcome, Hydra Supreme. It is a pleasure to see you."

The man, known as Hydra Supreme, offered a slight nod in acknowledgment. "Evening, Warden."

"Please, let us proceed to my office," Tagara suggested, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness. "We can discuss our matters more comfortably there." With that, the warden turned, leading the way back into the building, escaping the persistent drizzle.

Later, in the warden's office, a spread of hot tea and fresh Japanese confections awaited. Hydra Supreme had settled into an ornate chair opposite Tagara's desk, the soft strains of classical music playing in the background complementing the rhythm of rain tapping against the windows.

Hydra Supreme quietly sampled the tea and delicacies, including wagashi and mochi. The room was filled with a respectful silence as he did so.

"I trust the refreshments are to your satisfaction?" Tagara ventured cautiously after a moment.

Setting his cup down with a soft clink, the man responded succinctly, "They are adequate." He dabbed his mouth with a white napkin before continuing. "Now, tell me, is the facility running smoothly?"

"Absolutely, Supreme One," Tagara replied, nodding earnestly. "Your gift has ensured unwavering loyalty from the guards. We remain undetected by external authorities, and the metahuman recycling operations have proven increasingly profitable for our cause. In fact, we've achieved a five percent increase in profit margins over the past month."

Hydra Supreme gave only a perfunctory nod. "What of the latest batch of prisoners? Have we identified any notable abilities?"

Warden Tagara picked up a tablet from his desk and handed it to him. "We've cataloged the abilities of all recent arrivals. There's one prisoner in particular who I thought might catch your interest," he hinted.

Hydra Supreme examined the tablet, his expression unreadable yet intent. His interest visibly piqued as he reviewed one particular profile. "Indeed, Prisoner #999's ability does sound exceptional."

Tagara hesitated slightly. "Actually, Supreme One, I was referring to Prisoner #505. His meta-ability seemed especially aligned with your objectives."

"#505…" Hydra Supreme navigated to the mentioned profile and skimmed it. "Intriguing, yet it falls short of my needs."

"I see…" Tagara's voice trailed off.

Selecting several profiles on the tablet, Hydra Supreme handed it back to the warden. "Bring these individuals to the isolation ward. I will assess their abilities myself."

"Immediately," Tagara affirmed, taking the tablet back.

Hydra Supreme stood, a slight frown creasing his brow. "I must note my disappointment at the limited range of compelling Meta-Abilities this time around, Tagara." He moved towards the door.

Tagara bowed, his tone apologetic. "M-My apologies, Supreme One. The recent captures mostly include American troops, of which only a few have Meta-Abilities. The remainder are effectively redundant, serving no purpose beyond manual labor."

Pausing at the doorway, Hydra Supreme's silhouette cast a long shadow back into the room. "Then streamline operations. Consider it administrative cleanup."

Catching onto the meaning, Tagara's expression morphed into a sinister smile as he bowed deeper. "As you command."

---

Prisoners trudged back to their cells, the grimy orange of their jumpsuits contrasting sharply with the sterile prison corridors. Many meta-humans among them were shackled with power-dampening collars, which dug into their skin. Among the last to be herded into the crowded cells was Bucky Barnes.

Stepping into the cell, Bucky turned to face the guard with a defiant smirk. "You know, tough guy, one day I'll have a stick of my own," Bucky attempted in Japanese, but his words were jumbled in translation, "I'll stick you one day."

Quirking a brow in confusion, the guard simply shut the cell door and locked it with a metallic thud before walking away.

Bucky frowned, muttering, "Yeah…just keep walking," his words a low growl in English.

In the corner of the cell, a young attractive Japanese woman of average height in her early twenties tried to stifle a giggle at the scene. Her disheveled black hair hung loosely around her shoulders and her chocolate brown eyes caught the minimal light, casting shadows across her dirty yet pretty face.

She spoke up, her voice mixing amusement with a stern undercurrent, "Easy there, cowboy. Don't wanna be taken to the isolation ward, do you?"

This was Shoudo Haruka, one of the many metahuman prisoners at Tsurugi Peak Detention Center, and one of Bucky's cellmates since his arrival. Despite the dire circumstances and the lack of hygiene that left a tangible griminess in the air, Bucky found himself reluctantly charmed by her.

Bucky slumped beside Haruka against the cool, grimy wall of the cell. "Well, as much as I'm enjoying my newfound recycling career, a little isolation from it all doesn't sound too bad," he commented with a wry grin.

Haruka gave a small, knowing smile, "Don't take that chance, Barnes-san. We're hardly indispensable here."

He smirked back at her with a mixture of resignation and humor. "Yeah… Better not give them an excuse to open me up or somethin'."

"You'd be isolated from me too, you know." Haruka feigned a pout. "Wouldn't you miss me?"

Bucky smirked back at her. "Maybe a little. Aside from my comrades, you're the only other person here I can hold a conversation with."

He then reached into his jacket and pulled out a battered notebook labeled 'BUCKY'S GUIDE TO LEARNING JAPANESE', its pages dog-eared and worn. It was the only item that hadn't been confiscated from him when Hydra captured them three weeks ago.

Going through the pages, Bucky's grin faded slightly as he found the phrase he had botched earlier. "So, I guess by your giggling, I didn't say that sentence right?"

"No, but you were better than last time," Haruka replied, her tone encouraging yet amused.

"Progress, though," Bucky shrugged.

He then thumbed back to the first few pages that were filled with Izuku's neat handwriting. He looked at the words Izuku had assigned him as homework over a year ago.

こんにちは – Hello

さようなら — Goodbye

バッキー・バーンズ — Bucky Barnes

(Bonus!) さらに先へ。 – Go further.

His gaze lingering on the last phrase Izuku had emphasized in the notebook: Go further. The memory of Izuku giving him the notebook at Camp Erskine flashed through his mind.

"Here! You should be able to translate these with the notes in here. It'll take effort on your part, but you can do it," Izuku had encouraged.

"Ugh, homework. But seriously, thanks. This means a lot."

"Anything for a friend." Izuku had smiled.

A small smile crossed Bucky's face from the memory.

"Want more help with your Japanese?" Haruka's voice pulled him back from his thoughts.

Bucky nodded, appreciative of the diversion and her presence, which was the only relief in the relentless dreariness of prison life. "Must be nice to have an ability like yours," he commented. "Being able to speak and understand any language instantly is freakin' incredible."

Haruka's face clouded over slightly, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Maybe... but it's also why I'm here."

Bucky surveyed the other inmates, observing their tired and desolate faces. When he was first brought to Tsurugi Peak, he had braced himself to be locked up with violent, dangerous meta-terrorists eager for any chance to cause harm. Instead, the reality was quite different. Most of the so-called "meta-terrorists" were ordinary people, penalized for circumstances beyond their control.

Bucky's gaze dropped to the floor. 'These people don't belong here.'

Haruka then shook her head, her tone lightening. "But hey, let's not get hung in stuff we can't control. Let's focus on improving your Japanese so you don't sound like a toddler."

"Touche," Bucky conceded with a wry smile.

---

Further down the corridor, James Howlett, Namor McKenzie, and Nick Fury, along with metahuman prisoners, sat in tense silence within the confines of their dreary cell. The oppressive weight of their circumstances was almost palpable, interrupted only by the soft shuffle of their guards' footsteps as they patrolled the corridor outside.

James leaned in close to Namor and Nick, his voice barely above a whisper. "Did you get the message out today?"

Both Namor and Nick nodded, their expressions grim.

"Three weeks and still nothing though," Nick added with a heavy sigh. "What's taking HQ so long? Surely they know we're here by now, right?"

Namor's gaze was distant, thoughtful. "Perhaps there are other factors at play preventing any action?"

James's frustration boiled over as he growled, "If they don't get us out soon, I'm gonna start making exits my way—claws first."

Namor quirked a brow, glancing at his power-dampening collar. "And how do you propose we do that with these on?" he asked skeptically.

James smirked. "Just because the claws are locked up doesn't mean the animal is," he retorted, a hint of menace in his voice.

Namor merely rolled his eyes in response.

Nick let out a heavy sigh, the weight of their situation sinking in. "My girl's gonna kill me when she finds out I died over here, man."

Namor looked puzzled, his brow furrowing. "But...you'll be dead already? So how would she–"

"We ain't dying here," James asserted firmly, his resolve clear. "We'll get out."

"Any plans then?" Nick inquired.

James scratched the back of his head. "... Still working that out."

Namor shook his head, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Perhaps leave the planning to those more qualified, 'Claws First'."

His comment earned a quick punch in the rib from James. "Keep it up, and I'll show you just how qualified I am, bub."

The metallic clang of a baton rapping sharply against the bars interrupted their exchange. A guard glared at them, his face set in a stern frown. "Shuujin 977 to 978, shizuka ni shi te i nai to, ryouhou tomo kakuri shitsu ikiba da zo!" he barked in Japanese, his voice echoing down the dreary corridor.

Recognizing the word "kakuri" as "isolation", James and Namor exchanged a glance, then settled back against the cold wall of their cell. The guard nodded in satisfaction and stalked away, baton swinging at his side.

As the footsteps faded, James muttered under his breath, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Right, because isolation sounds so much worse than digging through trash everyday."

"No one's ever come back from the isolation ward, Howlett." Nick pointed out. "Best not to push your luck there."

---

Meanwhile, a few cells down the corridor, Peggy and Sharon were seated close together,
the oppressive atmosphere of the prison weighing on them. Their hair hung freely past their shoulders, growing since their last cut weeks prior.

Peggy, maintaining her authoritative sergeant demeanor, eyed Sharon with concern. "How're you holding up, Carter?"

Sharon offered a tired smile, shrugging slightly. "Hanging in there. Just wish we could have a shower. We must reek by now."

Peggy responded with a dry chuckle, her eyebrow arched in amusement. "Sure, but would you really want to risk the communal showers with the guys around?"

Sharon considered this for a moment, her smile playful and eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know, after a while, you really do get used to the smell of garbage." Her blue eyes sparkled mischievously. "Though, based on how you described Izuku's new physique, I might not mind the communal showers if he were there."

Peggy shot her a stern look, not entirely amused. "Sharon..."

Sharon chuckled lightly, giving Peggy a gentle nudge. "C'mon, Sergeant, you know I'm just teasing."

"Sure..." Peggy responded, her tone dry.

Sharon's expression softened, turning more reflective. "Though being in here really puts things into perspective, doesn't it? Makes you appreciate things you took for granted—good food, clean clothes, showers…" Her gaze shifted towards Peggy. "...or a certain someone special in our lives."

Peggy drew her knees up to her chest, grateful for the dim lighting that concealed her blush. Memories of her last conversation with Izuku played in her mind, his determined voice still clear as day.

"I know you're just looking out for me," he had said, his fist clenched and held to his chest, "but I promise you, Peg-chan... the next time you see me, I'll be able to defend myself! You and the others won't have to worry about me anymore."

That moment was over a year ago, yet the warmth from his words lingered in Peggy's heart, his resolve igniting something deep within her. Then she remembered the kiss she had impulsively planted on his cheek and the sincere hug they shared before parting—a farewell charged with unspoken emotions.

Teruko's teasing remark echoed in her thoughts, "You know, you and Izuku both are way too serious. If you're not careful, you'll overthink your way out of a golden opportunity."

A despondent frown creased Peggy's brow. 'Did I miss my chance? Is it already too late?'

Sensing her friend's deepening gloom, Sharon placed a comforting hand on Peggy's shoulder, pulling her gently back to the present. "We're gonna get out of here, somehow. And then, you'll be able to tell Cinnamon Roll exactly how you feel."

Peggy's reaction was a squeak, more girlish than she intended, as she turned away to hide her deepening blush. "R-Right…"

From across the cell, a few of the other female inmates watched with a mix of curiosity and amusement. They sensed the undercurrents of a deep connection between Peggy and Sharon, even if the specifics of their conversation eluded them.

The exchange, however, was interrupted as the cell door clanged open.

Zak Powers was ushered inside, his appearance conspicuous among the inmates due to his freshly laundered prison clothes, which starkly contrasted with the worn and dirty outfits of the others. A green light glowed from the chrome collar around his neck, signaling that his Meta-Ability was actively being suppressed.

As the guard slammed the door shut, leaving Zak standing near the entrance, Peggy called out to him, "Where have you been, Powers?"

Zak slumped against the cold wall, his metahuman neighbors subtly shifting away from him. "Extracurricular work, Sergeant," he replied simply, his voice carrying a hint of exhaustion.

Sharon eyed his unusually clean jumpsuit. "Then why are you so clean?"

"Got to use the showers after finishing up my tasks."

Sharon's temper flared. "That's so unfair!"

Zak shot back, irritation lacing his tone, "I don't make the rules, blondie. It's not my fault these Japs won't let you wash your filthy bodies."

Before Sharon could retort, Peggy placed a hand on her shoulder. "Settle down," she said, her voice both calm and authoritative. "Powers is forced to do more work than any of us, and has been covered in more garbage because of it. If anyone needed that shower, it's him."

Sharon looked incredulous. "Seriously? You're defending him?"

Peggy's gaze was steady, unyielding. "He's under my command, just like you, Carter. I defend my subordinates when it's warranted."

Zak gave a dry chuckle. "Aren't you a true leader…"

Peggy ignored his sarcasm, turning to address him directly. "How are you holding up, Powers?"

Zak responded with a terse, "Fine," but the weariness in his eyes betrayed his stoic facade.

Seeing through the facade, she pressed on. "Are you really? From where I'm standing, it looks like you're wearing yourself thin."

Zak averted his gaze briefly before meeting Peggy's eyes with a defiant spark. "I can keep going."

Peggy gave him a look tinged with concern. "Even metahumans have their limits."

Zak scoffed, his expression turning bitter. "Don't pretend you care, Yamamoto. I know deep down you're enjoying seeing me like this. Losing my baseball career, me being your subordinate, working like a mule every day in a Japanese prison... This is my karma for being a sh*tty person to Izuku, right?"

"Sounds right," Sharon murmured under her breath.

"…That's all in the past." Peggy countered.

"You still haven't let go of it, though," Zak shot back. "Have you?"

Peggy narrowed her eyes, a new determination in her voice. "Why did you join the military, Powers? Why the SSR?"

Zak held her gaze momentarily before releasing a sigh, his demeanor softening. "You heard about what happened at the World Series last year?"

"Only that you were attacked by some metahuman thugs after the game," Peggy replied.

"Well, those guys wanted to kill me…and they nearly did." Zak continued, a distant look in his eyes. "But a soldier saved me. Wore some red, white, and blue getup that looked thrown together. Media called him the 'Star-Spangled Man'."

Sharon's eyes widened. "You mean Captain America?"

"Is that what he's called now? How is that somehow worse?" Zak remarked. "Anyway, he visited me in the hospital, offered me a second chance. I... didn't have any other options."

Peggy's brow furrowed, her thoughts whirling with the implications of Zak's story. If Captain America had recruited Zak into the SSR, that hinted at deeper connections within the program. A possibility dawned on her, her eyes widening with sudden insight. 'Could he be—'

Her train of thought was abruptly interrupted as Zak turned away, slumping against the cold concrete wall. "Anyway, that's my story, ladies. Now keep it down. Some of us have real work to do tomorrow."

Sharon shot him a disdainful look, muttering under her breath, "Prick."

Peggy, meanwhile, turned her gaze away, her thoughts drifting back to Izuku. 'If Izu-kun really is Captain America, then maybe that means he'll stay home and continue to hold metahuman rallies.' She inwardly sighed in relief. 'I hope that's the case. Izu-kun, please stay safe.'

---

Izuku's heart pounded as the tires of the garbage truck crunched on the wet gravel of Tsurugi Peak Detention Center's west side entry, where a large and thick steel gate loomed ahead. Pulling up to the security checkpoint, he took a deep breath, trying to quell his nerves. 'Peg-chan would definitely not like that I'm doing this…' he thought, preparing himself for the interaction ahead.

As he brought the truck to a halt, a guard in a raincoat emerged from the small booth, approaching the driver's side with an umbrella shielding him from the relentless downpour. Izuku rolled down the window, attempting to project calmness.

"You're five minutes late," the guard noted briskly.

Izuku didn't catch the full sentence but recognized the word "late." He quickly bowed his head slightly, replying in his best Japanese,"S-sorry, late from rain."

The guard's expression remained impassive. "ID?" he demanded.

Pulling the lanyard from around his neck, Izuku handed over the badge, explaining as casually as he could muster,"New driver."

The guard took the badge with a nod, retreating to the booth to check the credentials. Izuku gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles whitening as he watched the guard disappear into the booth. 'Hopefully Mr. Shield's magic works,' he thought anxiously.

After what felt like an eternity but was only a few moments, the guard reappeared, handing back the ID badge. "Clear. Head to Bay 9," he instructed.

"Arigatou," Izuku responded with a nod, relief flooding through him as the large metal gate slid open. He drove through, following the signs to Bay 9, a massive warehouse building marked with a large '9' on the side.

There, another guard directed him into an open doorway. As he backed the truck up under the shelter of the warehouse, the rain's patter muted by the vast, echoing space, a man signaled him to stop and indicated for him to dump the hopper. Izuku scanned the truck's control panel, his eyes quickly identifying the correct button. With a deep breath, he pressed it, and the back of the truck lifted, pouring its contents onto a large tarp spread out on the warehouse floor.

'Okay, phase two,' Izuku thought as he discreetly pulled a clicker with a red button from his jacket, keeping it concealed in his hand.

He stepped out of the truck and quickly surveyed his surroundings. To one side, small bins filled with assorted plastics and metals stood alongside giant ones filled with compost. His gaze then shifted to the far corner, where the small red light of a security camera blinked ominously. He knew he needed to keep his movements discreet.

As he was assessing the area, the bay worker approached him. The man's name tag read "KATSURO."

"Driver, why are you out of the truck?" He asked, suspicion tinting his voice. "We still need to load you up with compost."

Izuku bowed slightly in apology. "Sorry! Toilet?"

"Ah," Katsuro replied, nodding in understanding. "It's in the back, but I'll need to accompany you. Security and all," he explained, motioning for Izuku to follow. Understanding enough, Izuku trailed behind Katsuro toward the rear of the warehouse.

As they reached the bathroom, Izuku's fingers tensed around the concealed clicker. With a subtle press, a muffled click sounded—barely audible over the ambient noise of the warehouse.

KA-BOOM!

Almost immediately, a violent explosion ripped through the warehouse, the shockwaves vibrating underfoot and tearing a gaping hole in the roof. Flames erupted, sweeping through the truck's undercarriage beneath the fuel tanks.

"WHAT WAS–AWK!" Katsuro's voice halted abruptly as Izuku delivered a swift, precise chop to his neck, sending him tumbling to the ground, unconscious.

Izuku's eyes were glued to the prison blueprints on Howard's computer. "So we have a plan to get into the complex, now we just need a way for me to get from the recycling sector to the cellblock area without being caught," he said, pondering their next move.

Howard gestured towards the corner of the room where a duffle bag lay. "I have an idea for that too. Check in that bag over there."

Curious, Izuku walked over and unzipped the bag, his eyes widening in surprise at the contents. He turned to Howard, alarmed. "Is this C4?!"

"Nope, it's a new prototype I've been developing—H-8," Howard explained, a hint of pride in his voice. "Twice as potent as C4. And before you ask, it's disarmed; totally harmless...unless re-armed."

"It would catch their attention and keep personnel preoccupied, but…" Izuku stared at the experimental explosives, weighing his options.

Howard caught the hesitation in Izuku's eyes and chuckled lightly, waving off the concern with a flick of his hand. "Don't look so grim, kid. In the right hands, it's as safe as a kitten. Just think of it as... an extremely loud wake-up call for our friends at Tsurugi."

Izuku stepped through a backdoor of the warehouse, just as sirens blared and watchtowers directed their spotlights towards the burgeoning fire. Inside, flames had ignited nearby piles of recyclable materials, creating a chaotic inferno that cast flickering shadows all around.

Using those shadows, Izuku ran to the adjacent warehouse and sat Katsuro gently against the wall. He swiftly took the man's keycard and black trenchcoat. Glancing back at the fire he had caused, alarms echoed throughout the prison's PA system, signaling the emergency. Guards scrambled towards the blaze.

"Safe as a kitten, huh?" Izuku murmured under his breath.

With the prison distracted and in disarray, Izuku knew he had to act quickly. Shedding the truck driver's jacket, he donned Katsuro's trench coat over his costume and pulled up the hood, hoping it would help him blend in with the frantic prison staff.

Then, merging with the shadows, he made his way towards his next objective.

---

Moments earlier…

The monotonous drone of the prison's daily routine was abruptly shattered in Cellblock 2 as a group of guards marched in, their boots echoing ominously along the concrete floor. Bucky and Haruka's language lesson came to an abrupt end when the cell door slid open, and two guards stepped inside.

"Prisoner 350, step forward," one guard barked, his voice cold and authoritative.

Confused yet compliant, Haruka stood up slowly and walked towards the guards. They quickly clamped her wrists in regular handcuffs, securing them with a metallic click that resonated in the cramped cell.

Bucky, protective and agitated, took a step forward, "Hey, what's this about?"

Without warning, another guard thrust an electric prod into Bucky's abdomen, causing him to cry out in pain. The sudden jolt of electricity sent him crashing to the ground, his body convulsing from the shock.

"Bucky!" Haruka cried out, her voice filled with alarm. As the guards pulled her away, she turned back, her eyes meeting Bucky's in a fleeting, solemn exchange. "Goodbye, Barnes-san…"

Pained and struggling to regain his breath, Bucky managed to grunt painfully, "Haruka..."

Further down the corridor, the disruption continued. The cell containing Peggy, Sharon, and Zak swung open abruptly. "Prisoner 999, up!" a guard ordered in heavily accented English.

Zak, disoriented from being roused from sleep, groaned, "Is it morning already, fellas?" His attempt at humor fell flat as he was roughly yanked to his feet and handcuffs were placed on him.

Peggy immediately stood, her voice firm with authority and concern, "Where are you taking him?" Her command of Japanese sharp and clear.

One guard, impatient and stern, brandished an electric prod, its end sparking ominously. "Sit down!" he commanded.

Reluctantly, Peggy complied, her eyes locked on Zak as he was led away. Over his shoulder, Zak shouted back, his voice tinged with a mix of humor and seriousness, "Yamamoto, if you see that nerd again... Tell him... He deserved more than 3 percent."

Peggy's brow furrowed in confusion at Zak's cryptic message.

"What's going on?" Sharon asked urgently, her voice laced with concern. "Where are they taking him?"

Peggy pressed her ear against the cold metal bars, straining to catch any snippets of conversation floating down the hallway. Amid the disjointed fragments of Japanese, one word stood out with chilling clarity: 'kakuri.'

"They're taking him to isolation," Peggy concluded gravely.

Sharon's face filled with alarm. "Why? Did he cross someone?"

Peggy shook her head, her brows knitting together in confusion. "I don't know... He hasn't had any trouble with the guards that I've seen. So why isolation..."

A shadow of dread passed over Sharon's features. "I've never heard of anyone coming back from there," she whispered fearfully.

Peggy's expression softened into a somber frown, her voice barely audible over the echoing footsteps of the retreating guards.

---

In Warden Tagara's sternly decorated office, the tense atmosphere was almost palpable as he addressed his senior staff.

The Chief of Security, a tall man distinguished by a clipped mustache, stood at attention. "The prisoners from your list are currently being transferred to the isolation ward, sir," he reported with military precision.

Beside him, an assistant warden, a young woman with keen eyes and a sharp posture, interjected with a hint of confusion. "Warden, if I may, why are we isolating these prisoners? They haven't shown any problematic behavior."

Warden Tagara's gaze sharpened, his voice cold and authoritative as he responded. "The reasoning is none of your concern. Your duty is to follow orders. Now, do we have an account of all the American detainees?"

"Yes, sir. All except for #999, who is en route to isolation, are in the general population," the Chief of Security confirmed.

Tagara nodded firmly, then opened the silver pocket watch in his hand. "Listen carefully," he began, his tone urgent yet controlled. "I know this may seem drastic, but it is necessary. Before dawn tomorrow, I want all American detainees taken to the east side forest for execu—"

His instructions were abruptly cut off by the distant sound of an explosion, the force of which caused the room to tremble slightly. Instantly, alarms blared through the intercoms, and a voice urgently announced, "Alert! Fire in recycling sector's Bay 9."

Tagara closed his watch and put it away, furrowing his brows.

The Chief of Security moved toward the phone, his expression taut. "I'll call the fire department immediately, sir."

Tagara raised a hand to stop him. "No, we'll handle this internally. Our guards are trained for situations like this. Direct personnel outside to focus on containing the fire using the hydrants. The storm should assist in quenching the flames."

"Sir!" As the staff scrambled to carry out his orders, Tagara's phone vibrated. He glanced at the caller ID, his complexion paling slightly as he recognized the number. With a steadying breath, he answered. "Y-yes, Supreme One. May I help you…?"

"What was that explosion? Is everything under control?" The voice on the other end was calm but carried an unmistakable edge.

"Everything is under control. The situation is contained, and the prisoners of interest are secure and are currently being escorted to you," Tagara assured smoothly, though his hand trembled slightly as he held the phone.

"I expect a full investigation into the cause of this incident, Tagara. Explosions in a high-security facility do not inspire confidence." Hydra Supreme instructed sternly.

"Understood, Supreme One. I will personally oversee the investigation and ensure order is maintained," Tagara responded, his voice firm.

"You had better. Remember, very few heads in our cause are irreplaceable."

As the call ended, Tagara wiped sweat from his brow but quickly composed himself. With determined steps, he immediately headed towards the control room.

---

With the prison's focus shifted towards the chaos at Bay 9, Izuku used this distraction to slip into the cellblock building undetected, using Katsuro's keycard for entry. He moved with precision, sticking to less-traveled hallways and mostly dodging the gaze of security cameras.

Arriving at one of the entrances to Cellblock 2, Izuku felt a surge of relief mixed with urgency. He swiped the keycard, only to be met with a disapproving beep and a flash of red from the reader.

'No clearance.' Izuku eyed the door's solid construction and the reinforced glass window. He knew that using brute force would be risky and could draw unwanted attention.

'Time for plan B.' Keeping out of sight from the window, Izuku tapped lightly on the door.

Inside, a guard making his rounds paused, his face marked with the routine boredom of his job. 'Why did I even choose to be a prison guard?' he thought morosely. His grumbling was interrupted by the unexpected tapping.

Staying hidden, Izuku held up his keycard, pointed to the keypad, and mimed a malfunction. The guard sighed heavily. "Not this again... I keep telling them this keypad's glitchy. But does anyone listen? No…" He muttered as he moved to open the door.

As the door swung open, Izuku acted swiftly, using the door's edge to deliver a controlled strike to the guard's head, knocking him out instantly.

Catching the guard before he could slump to the floor, Izuku dragged him into a shadowed corner of the corridor. "Sorry, sir," he whispered as he relieved the guard of his keycard and a set of keys on his belt. Taking off his black trench coat, he folded it up and placed it under the man's head as a makeshift pillow.

He then took a second glance at the guard. 'Might as well.' He took his baton and stun prod too, clipping them to his utility belt.

With the proper keycard, Izuku re-entered the cellblock, his movements silent and cautious. The cellblock was dimly lit and quiet, spanning three levels of cells stacked upon each other. He paused, considering his next move.

'I need to find them quickly before I'm noticed. Where could they–' His thought was cut off by a gruff voice echoing down the hallway. "Hey, did ya hear something?"

A sleepy, annoyed voice responded from a nearby cell, "No. You must be imagining things."

Izuku's heart skipped. Not only were those two voices spoken in fluent English, but he recognized them!

---

James edged closer to the cell bars, straining to peer down the dimly lit corridor. "I know I heard something... Sounded like the door slamming against something."

Nearby, Namor, with his eyes closed and clearly annoyed, grumbled, "Let it go, Howlett. Others are trying to sleep."

"My ears don't lie, McKenzie," Howlett shot back. "Even with my ability suppressed."

"It's likely another guard," Namor muttered dismissively.

Before James could respond, a guard down the hallway shouted, "NE! Anata wa dare desu ka?! AWK!" What followed was the unmistakable sound of a punch followed by a thud.

Namor's eyes snapped open as he turned towards the door. Peering through the bars, he and James spotted an unconscious guard sprawled on the floor.

"Or…maybe not." Namor admitted.

The disturbance roused several other inmates, including Nick, from their sleep.

"Ugh," Nick stretched uncomfortably, "What's happening?"

The answer came as another figure stepped over the guard and relieved him of his keycard and keys. He then approached their cell, the jingle of keys echoing through the corridor. This was no guard, though; the man was dressed in a red, white, and blue spandex suit, covered by a brown leather jacket, and topped with a blue helmet adorned with a white 'A'.

The cell's occupants exchanged bewildered glances.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be, bub?" James growled, eyeing the newcomer with suspicion.

The man methodically tested a key in the lock. "Well, I'm… Captain America," he declared.

A puzzled silence enveloped the cell as the prisoners stared, trying to make sense of his claim.

"Kare wa nani o itte iru no?" whispered a Japanese woman from the back, her voice filled with confusion.

James squinted, scrutinizing the man's face more closely. Recognition slowly dawned, and his eyes widened. "Hold on… Shorty?"

Izuku, from the corner of his eye, glanced at James and offered a sly wink. "Good to see you too, James." Finally finding the right key, he turned it, and with a definitive creak, swung the cell door open.

Without hesitation, Izuku swiftly used the keycard to deactivate the power-dampening collars on James and Namor. With a definitive click, the collars disengaged and clattered to the floor.

Sighing in relief, James flexed his hands and extended his bone claws. "Ah, that's much better!"

"Flagman?!" Nick exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief. "There's no way…"

"Believe it, bub," James retorted firmly. "I'd know that scent anywhere. Strawberry…" He then sniffed the air. "Though the hint of aftershave is a new smell."

Namor gave a nod of appreciation. "Good to see you, friend." He paused, taking in Izuku's changed stature, surprised to find himself looking directly into Izuku's eyes. "The doctor's serum really did a number on you, didn't it?"

Izuku shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. "You have no idea."

He then pulled out the keys he had just taken from the guard in the corridor. "Here!" He throws them to Nick, who catches them. "Start releasing our comrades! We need to move fast!"

"Right!" Nick immediately exited the cell.

"What about them?" James motioned to the Japanese prisoners, who had a mixture of bewildered yet hopeful expressions.

Namor stepped in, adding, "These people are hardly criminals. Their victims themselves."

Izuku nodded and turned to James and Namor. "I came for you guys, but if you believe these people don't deserve to be here," he handed them the keycard he had taken from the two guards, "I'll let you make that call."

As Izuku briskly exited the cell, James and Namor shared a glance and nodded before approaching their confused cellmates.

"Looks like it is your folks lucky day," James stated, unlocking the first prisoner's collars.

---

As the commotion of keys clattering and cell doors sliding open filled the air, Bucky leaned heavily against the cool metal bars of his cell. Frustration gnawed at him, his thoughts preoccupied with Haruka's abrupt and seemingly undeserved transfer to isolation. Before he could sink further into his concerns, the unusual activity outside snapped him back to the present.

The cell door burst open, but instead of the usual stern-faced guard, a figure clad in an American flag-themed costume, topped with a brown leather jacket and black trench coat, stood at the threshold.

Bucky straightened up, squinting at the newcomer. "Hey... I think I know you. Aren't you that superhero wannabe?" He remarked, half-amused.

Izuku gestured for the prisoners to leave their cell, prompting a wave of thankful bows from the inmates as they filed out. He then turned to Bucky with a sly grin. "Don't recognize me? I know I've changed a little but that hurts, Battle Buddy."

Recognition dawned on Bucky's face, his eyes widening. "Wait a minute... Izuku?! You're—"

"That superhero wannabe?" Izuku chuckled, his voice tinged with irony. "Yeah, guess so."

Bucky stepped forward, his initial shock giving way to a broad smile. He clasped Izuku in a firm, brotherly hug. "Izuku, you son of a b*tch!" He clapped him on the back heartily.

"Language, Bucky," Izuku teased, pulling away with a smile of relief. "Glad to see you too though. I thought you were all dead."

"And I thought you were smaller." Bucky looked him over, impressed. "Man, whatever Doctor Hatsume gave you, it sure as hell worked wonders. Guess not all drugs are bad, huh?"

Izuku's expression hardened with concern. "Bucky, are the other Infantry 9 members here? What about Peg-chan?" He hesitated, the fear of Peggy's fate especially weighing heavily on him.

Before Bucky could respond though, a familiar voice echoed down the corridor. "IZU-KUN!"

---

The clang of metal echoed through the cellblock as Peggy and Sharon, along with their cellmates, turned toward the unexpected sound of their cell door sliding open. Instead of the anticipated guard, Nick Fury stood in the doorway, a set of keys dangling from his fingers.

"You ladies ready to leave?" Nick quipped with a wry grin.

Peggy and Sharon sprang to their feet, their fatigue momentarily forgotten. "Fury?" Peggy's voice was a mix of surprise and confusion.

"How'd you get out?" Sharon added, her brow furrowed.

Nick's grin broadened. "You are not gonna believe this! C'mon!" He then glanced at the Japanese prisoners and turned to Peggy. "Tell them they can come too! We're ALL busting outta this sh*thole."

Peggy blinked, taking a moment to process the rapid turn of events, before conveying Nick's invitation to the Japanese prisoners in their language. They nodded, understanding flashing in their eyes as they stood to join the breakout.

As they stepped into the corridor, the sight that greeted them was one of organized chaos. Doors were flung open along the hallway; Infantry 9 troops and their metahuman cellmates spilled out into the corridor. James and Namor were busy deactivating collars, their actions speaking louder than any language barrier could.

"Fury, what's happening? How did you—" Peggy began, but Sharon's urgent tug on her shoulder cut her off.

"Sergeant… Look ahead," Sharon pointed down the corridor, her own eyes wide in shock.

Puzzled, Peggy followed her gaze and her breath caught in her throat. There, in the dim lighting of the prison hallway, stood a figure dressed in red, white, and blue, topped with a brown leather jacket and a blue helmet marked with a white 'A'. He was unlocking a cell from which Bucky emerged, clasping the figure in a brotherly embrace.

"Izu-kun...Izu-kun..." Peggy murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as disbelief and joy mingled in her heart.

Her steps quickened into a run, her voice crescendoing. "IZU-KUN!" She dashed past the newly freed prisoners, her focus solely on the man ahead.

Izuku turned at the sound of his name, his emerald eyes lighting up. "P-Peg-chan?!" A wide smile spread across his face as he moved towards her.

The reunion was heartfelt; they embraced tightly, a moment of warmth in the cold, harsh environment of the prison.

As they pulled apart, Izuku's expression mixed relief with a hint of mischief. "Peg-chan, I can't tell you how happy I am to see you. I was worried you—"

"What the hell are you doing here, idiot?!" Peggy suddenly exploded, her joy transforming into anger.

"I—" Izuku started, taken aback.

Down the hall, Sharon sighed and shook her head. "That's how you greet him?" She murmured, exasperated. "I swear, I can't with that girl…"

"You were supposed to stay home and wait till we finished things here! You said you wouldn't go overboard!" Peggy's right eye twitched. "Coming over seas to sneak into a metahuman prison is well past overboard!"

Izuku's smile was sheepish. "Well, I said I'd try not to go overboard, but you know me."

Peggy groaned angrily before sighing heavily, exasperated. "You're right… What was I thinking?" Despite her frustrations, a small smile crossed her face.

One of the troops stepping out of the cell was Private Dugan, a burly young man with a square jaw and short red hair. He looked around, his brow creasing in confusion. "So what? We freeing everyone?"

"Damn right we are, Dungan," James declared, stepping forward and brandishing the keycard he had used to deactivate the metahumans' power-dampeners. "We release all the birdies from their cages."

Dugan cocked a brow. "And what's the plan for handling the cats outside?"

James shrugged. "Hell if I know." He then gestured to Izuku ahead. "I'm sure he's got something up those patriotic sleeves of his."

Izuku looked down the hall as a sparse crowd of American soldiers formed a somber line. Groups of Japanese prisoners, all restless and bewildered, huddled around them. "Is this everyone from Infantry 9?" He asked, his heart sinking.

"Almost," Peggy replied, her voice low. "Zak was taken to isolation earlier."

"Zak?!" Izuku's expression tightened with concern. "Why?"

"I don't know... It was all so sudden," Peggy said, frustration coloring her tone.

"And Haruka too," Bucky added urgently. "We can't just leave them there."

Peggy was pragmatic. "But we have a chance to escape now and free everyone. We can't risk it for just two people, Barnes."

"I can't leave her behind!" Bucky insisted, his voice firm. "And even though Powers is an ass, he's still one of us."

The urgency of the situation curtailed further inquiries about Haruka. Izuku's mind raced for a solution. 'We need a quick exit for everyone, through the west side gate preferably,' he thought, a plan forming as thunder rumbled overhead.

Turning to Namor, who had just unlocked the last meta-human's collar, Izuku asked, "Namor, will your ability work in the rain?"

"If it's heavy enough, yes," Namor confirmed.

Izuku nodded, then addressed Peggy. "Peg-chan, can you still speak Japanese like you did back in high school?"

"Better, actually. Why?"

Izuku didn't respond directly. Instead, he faced the gathered prisoners. "Everyone, listen up!" His commanding voice quieted the murmurs, drawing all eyes to him. "Take three rights, two lefts, another right, then four lefts to this building's exit. Most guards right now are distracted by the fire in Bay 9. Use that to slip out to the west side gate."

Turning back to Namor, he instructed, "Petty Officer McKenzie, your task is to breach that gate. Our escape is counting on it."

Namor nodded, understanding the weight of the assignment. "Understood."

"Those with meta-abilities," Izuku continued, sweeping his gaze over the group, "protect your fellow prisoners, break barriers, and create chaos to keep the guards busy. It'll take all of us to pull this off."

He waited for Peggy to finish translating for the Japanese prisoners, who mostly nodded in understanding.

Facing Peggy again, Izuku's voice was steady, imbued with resolve. "Yamamoto, I need you to lead them." He handed her the satellite phone from his jacket. "Once you're through, use this to call Mr. Shield for reinforcements. Head west to the tree line and down into the valley. I'll meet you there."

"And what about you?" Peggy asked, worry evident in her voice.

"I'm heading to the isolation ward," Izuku declared, his tone unwavering. "Howlett, you're with me as backup."

"You got it, Shorty," James agreed.

"I'm in too," Bucky stated firmly. "Not leaving Haruka behind. And Powers too, I guess."

Izuku handed Bucky a stun-prod and baton (which he had secured from the guards earlier), and affirmed, "Then watch my back."

"We've got each other's, bro," Bucky responded.

Peggy stepped forward, her tone laced with concern. "Hold on, you should stay with the group. It's safer."

Izuku shook his head. "I know the quickest route to isolation. It has to be me. Stick to the plan, Yamamoto. It's not just about us anymore." He turned back to Bucky and Howlett. "Let's move!"

"Right!" As Izuku, James, and Bucky turned to leave, Peggy's voice rose in frustration. "I'm a sergeant now, you know! You can't just order me around!"

Izuku paused at the doorway. "The hell I can't!" He glanced back, a confident smirk playing across his face. "I'm a captain!"

With that, he swiped the keycard, unlocking the door. The trio then swiftly moved down the corridor.

Nick couldn't help but let out a low chuckle. "Little guy's grown up. Hasn't he?"

Sharon, her eyes following Izuku's departing figure, smiled with a hint of admiration. "Mhmm," she hummed in agreement, her gaze lingering on Izuku a moment longer than necessary.

Peggy stood shaking slightly, her emotions a whirlwind of anger and exhilaration. 'Dammit, Izu-kun! Why do you have to be so cool?!' She then composed herself, then turned to address the eager prisoners.

"You heard him! Head for the west gate! Those with meta-abilities, use them!" she commanded, repeating the message in Japanese.

A chorus of affirmative "Yes, ma'am!" and "Hai!" filled the corridor, their voices filled with renewed hope and determination.

---

Warden Tagara strode into the prison's control center, his face set in a grim line as he approached the main console where the operator was monitoring multiple screens. The dimly lit room buzzed with the low hum of computers and the occasional crackle of radio communication.

"Ah, warden! The Bay 9 fire is still burning, sir," the operator reported, fingers flying over the keyboard. "The rain's helping, but the combustible materials inside are fueling it–making it burn hotter. But guards outside are doing everything they can to—"

"Nevermind that." Tagara's eyes narrowed. "What caused it? Show me footage before the explosion."

The operator shifted tasks to pull up a video feed. The grainy image showed an Asashi Waste Solutions truck backing into Bay 9. A tall man, the truck driver, could be seen stepping out of the cab and speaking with someone before heading towards the back of the facility.

Moments later, a massive explosion rocked the area, and the camera feed went static.

"Identify the driver, now!" Tagara snapped.

After a few clicks, the operator responded, "It was one Sato Yoshi, employed by Asashi Waste. He checked in at 20:05, five minutes late."

Tagara muttered under his breath, "Sato Yoshi… Common name. Too common." He turned back to the operator. "Who was the last guard seen with him in the video?"

"That would be the Recycling Sector's Manager, sir."

"Katsuro..." Tagara reached for his radio. "Katsuro, report your status!" Static crackled through the speaker. He repeated the call, his tone more urgent, but again, only static answered.

Frustration mounting, Tagara addressed the operator, "Was Bay 9 Katsuro's last known location?"

The operator typed rapidly, then his face turned pale. "No, sir. The keypad logs show he accessed the prisoner cellblocks shortly after."

"The cellblocks? Why?" Tagara demanded.

As the operator accessed the surveillance footage, they observed a figure clad in a guard's trench coat entering the cellblock building. The face was obscured by the coat's hood, but Tagara immediately sensed a discrepancy.

"That's not Katsuro... it's the driver impersonating him," Tagara snapped, his anger palpable as he turned to the operator. "Why wasn't this noticed sooner? Are you not tasked with monitoring the facility?!"

The operator bowed his head, visibly distressed. "I apologize, sir! My attention was diverted to managing the Bay 9 fire; I must have overlooked it. Please forgive my negligence!"

Realization dawned on Tagara. 'Of course, the explosion and fire are distractions!' He refocused, dismissing his initial irritation. "Forget it! Locate that driver now!"

Nodding, the operator quickly sifted through the camera and keypad logs, urgency coloring his movements. Shortly after, he located the suspect on camera near one of the doors to Cellblock 2.

"Here, sir! This 'Sato' attempted access at door 2-E but was denied," the operator reported.

"And after that?" Tagara pressed, his tone demanding. "Were the guards able to stop him?"

The footage fast-forwarded, showing 'Sato' knocking on the door, which was then opened by a guard from the inside.

"N-No, sir…" the operator stammered.

Tagara's eyes twitched with irritation. 'Imbeciles! What's the point of protocols if they're ignored?'

As the video continued, the door was opened, the guard swiftly incapacitated, and dragged out of view. Moments later, 'Sato' reappeared, using the guard's keycard to gain entry to the cellblock.

"Go back and zoom in!" Tagara ordered sternly.

The operator complied, rewinding the footage and enhancing the zoom. As the image clarified, Tagara observed the man shedding his trench coat, revealing a costume adorned with the American flag.

Tagara's eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'Those colors... Is he here for the Americans?'

Suddenly, alarms blared throughout the room, diverting their attention to another monitor.

"What now?!" Tagara growled.

"S-Sir…" The operator gestured to another screen, which displayed live footage of prisoners pouring out of Cellblock 2, led by a Japanese woman. However, Tagara vaguely recognized her as one of the American detainees. Then, a man with pointed ears came into view. He looked directly at the camera and struck it, cutting off the feed.

Tagara slammed his fist on the console, fury etched across his face. "A prison break... in my facility?!" His voice boomed with rage. "Lock down all exits and mobilize every available guard!"

As the operator hastily complied, Tagara's attention was caught by movement on another screen. He watched as three men rapidly advanced down a corridor, distinct from the other prisoners in Cellblock 2 who were held back by a dozen armed guards.

A short, stocky man extended bone claws from his hands and engaged fiercely. Beside him, a taller man with brown hair skillfully wielded a baton and an electric prod, neutralizing his adversaries. Leading the charge was the man adorned in an American flag-themed costume, adeptly maneuvering with a baton and a heater shield adorned with the flag, overpowering the guards with ease.

In mere moments, the trio had swiftly overcome the opposition and continued their advance. Tagara switched camera feeds to track their progress, piecing together their likely destination. 'Cellblock 1? Are they attempting to release more prisoners, or is there another objective?'

Without missing a beat, Tagara issued a swift command. "Inform the guards in Cellblock 1 to hold their positions! Have the nearest squad turn around and back them up!"

The operator momentarily ceased his work to look up, spotting the three men on another screen. He nodded in acknowledgment. "Yes, sir! I'll—"

"I'm not done," Tagara interjected sharply. "Unlock all the doors those three take. Once they enter Cellblock 1, lock it down. Disable all its entry keypads. No one gets in or out until I say so."

The operator hesitated, a hint of concern flickering across his face. "But sir, that will lock the guards inside too. It could put them at risk—"

"If they are competent, they should be more than capable of handling just three men! Follow my orders!" Tagara barked.

"Y-yes, warden," the operator replied, quickly resuming his duties to relay the instructions to all necessary personnel.

With a stern resolve, Warden Tagara strode out of the control center, adjusting his suit as he went. 'I will demonstrate my value to the Supreme One by squashing this uprising,' he thought determinedly.

---

Izuku led the charge down the dimly lit corridor, his boots thudding against the concrete as James and Bucky followed closely. The eerie silence of their escape felt unsettling to Bucky.

"It's too quiet," Bucky muttered, glancing over his shoulder. "Feels like the calm before the storm."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the blare of alarms filled the air. A stern voice echoed through the prison's PA system, announcing, "Attention all personnel: outbreak in Cellblock 2. Initiate lockdown procedures and mobilize all available units."

James shot a wry look at Bucky. "Nice jinxing it, Barnes."

Izuku, undeterred, pressed on. "They were bound to notice eventually. Just hope the others can handle the barriers to get out."

"Wouldn't worry about them. They'll be fine with who they have." Sniffing the air, James's senses kicked in. "We've got company. Guards ahead."

As they rounded the next corner, twelve armed guards blocked their path, their weapons trained on the trio. "Tomeru! Ima sugu koufuku seyo!" one of the guards commanded.

Instead of complying, Izuku surged forward, his shield raised. With a powerful thrust, he knocked two guards off their feet, using his baton to disable a couple more. James and Bucky wasted no time joining the fray—James with his fearsome bone claws, slicing through the air, and Bucky, wielding his electric prod and baton with precision.

Amid the chaos, Bucky managed to ask Izuku, "So, did the procedure hurt?"

"A little," Izuku grunted, taking down another guard with a swift baton strike.

"Is it permanent?" Bucky followed up, electrocuting a guard before kicking him away.

"So far." Izuku replied, sweeping the legs from under two guards and knocking them unconscious. He quickly confiscated one of their guns, securing it in his utility belt.

James, taking a brief pause from the action, commented, "You've come a long way from camp, Shorty. Feels like just yesterday you could barely do ten push-ups. Now look at you."

After dispatching the last of the guards, the trio continued their rapid pace down the corridor. Izuku, acknowledging James's compliment, said, "Thanks. Gotta say, I'm impressed with your fighting style, Howlett. Good to see those claws in action."

James grinned, glancing at his own hands. "Feels good to finally use 'em after three long weeks!" He then eyed Izuku's attire. "So, what's with the star-spangled monkey suit? Fatigues might blend in better, don't you think?"

Bucky, equally curious, chimed in, "Yeah, I've been meaning to ask about the whole 'Captain America' thing myself."

Izuku, focused on the path ahead, took a moment before answering. "In these times, people need something to believe in. This costume—it makes me a symbol of everything we're fighting for: freedom, justice, pride, and hope. Not just for metahumans, but for everyone."

"Huh, and here I thought it was just some political gimmick," Bucky remarked.

James added, "You won't catch me in something like that. It's gotta itch."

Izuku confessed, "It could definitely use some updates."

They reached one of the entrances to Cellblock 1. "This is the shortest route to the isolation ward," Izuku confirmed.

"How are we going to get in? The whole facility is locked down," Bucky questioned.

Approaching the door, Izuku was about to attempt to break it down when James stepped forward, producing the keycard. "Let me try this first, Mister USA." He swiped the card, and to their surprise, the door unlocked.

"Why wouldn't they disable the keypads?" Izuku murmured, suspicion evident in his tone.

As they entered, the door slammed shut behind them, sealing them inside. They were greeted by the sight of over two dozen armed guards in the corridor. They were trapped.

"Looks like the welcoming committee," James quipped, readying his claws.

Bucky's expression was grim but determined. "Quite a few guns they have."

Izuku tightened his grip on his shield. "Let's show them what we're made of."

---

In a stark, dimly-lit room in the isolation ward, an oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily as six prisoners sat handcuffed on a hard bench. The cold concrete beneath and harsh fluorescent lights above contributed to the room's unwelcoming feel.

Zak Powers shifted uncomfortably, his eyes scanning the small group of prisoners murmuring in Japanese, heightening his sense of isolation. However, his thoughts were abruptly pulled back to the moment during his transfer to this room—the ground had vibrated, lights flickered, alarms sounded, and guards rushed by in heightened alert.

"What was that?" Zak muttered to himself, furrowing his brows in thought. "An explosion or something?"

A few meters away, Shoudo Haruka turned to him, answering in fluent English, "The PA said there was a fair in Bay 9 of the recycling center."

Zak looked at her, surprised. "You speak English?"

She nodded, her expression shifted to curiosity. "You're one of the Americans. Are you with Bucky Barnes's group?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so. Name sounds familiar."

Her expression hopeful, Haruka pressed, "Do you think that disturbance earlier was caused by your American military friends?"

Zak replied, "If they are, it's one hell of a timing for a rescue."

The conversation paused as the other four prisoners murmured among themselves. Haruka sighed softly, her gaze thoughtful. "Do you... do you think they'll free us too?"

"I don't know," Zak admitted, glancing at her briefly. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"I was born with a meta-ability," Haruka answered plainly.

"Really?" Zak kept his expression neutral. "That's it?"

"If you're asking whether I'm some sort of dangerous criminal, then no," she replied, her eyes sweeping the room to include the others who seemed just as harmless and confused. "That's true for most of us. We're only here because our nation labeled us as 'threats' because we refused to abide by their unjust metahuman laws."

Zak furrowed his brows, contemplative. Though he wouldn't outwardly admit it, he was empathetic towards her.

Across from them, two pre-teen boys whispered to each other, their voices laden with fear.

"Kudo, I'm scared," murmured the small, gray-haired boy. "What if they decide to...you know?"

"It's alright, Bruce. We're going to be okay," Kudo, the ginger-salmon-haired boy, tried to reassure his friend, though his expression was equally anxious.

Curious, Zak nudged Haruka. "Hey, ask those kids why they're here."

Haruka complied, switching to Japanese to converse with the boys. After a brief exchange, she turned back to Zak, her complexion ashen. "They said men with octopus symbols on their arms killed their parents and kidnapped them. They've been held here for weeks."

"Octopus symbols?" Zak's brow furrowed as he connected the dots. "Hydra."

"Hydra…" Haruka echoed, her voice tinged with newfound fear. "Barnes mentioned they were behind your group's capture."

Zak's thoughts raced. 'Why keep us alive? Why keep all these poor bastards here?' His gaze swept over the room, filled with seemingly ordinary individuals caught in extraordinary circumstances. 'What's the catch?'

His thoughts were abruptly halted as the door swung open, and a tall, imposing figure entered. The temperature seemed to drop as he stepped in, dressed in a pristine black suit. His muscular physique barely contained by his white shirt, his white hair stark against his deep red eyes that surveyed the room with chilling precision.

"Good evening, prisoners," the man began, his voice resonating with a chilling calmness that filled the stark room. "I realize you might be puzzled about your presence here. Let me assure you that you're not being punished for any misdeeds."

Haruka translated his words to Zak in a hushed tone, her voice barely masking the growing unease both of them felt.

The man surveyed the room, his penetrating gaze meeting the eyes of each inmate, instilling a deep, unnerving silence. "The reason for your stay," he continued, his tone unwavering, "is rather simple. Each of you holds something unique, something invaluable. I am here to collect what is due."

A guy with a body-builder physique across the room spoke up, his voice laced with confusion and defiance. "And what would that be?"

"Prisoner 205, could you kindly share your Meta-Ability?" The man asked with a veneer of politeness.

After a hesitant pause, Prisoner #205 responded, "I can store and release kinetic energy in my limbs, sort of like a spring."

"Ah yes…" The albino-haired man stepped closer to Prisoner #205, extended his hand, and gently touched his face. On contact, red energy began to flow visibly from the man into the suited man's hand.

The room descended into a hushed stillness, punctuated only by the eerie hum of power being transferred.

Moments later, after withdrawing his hand, Prisoner #205 slumped forward, drained and disoriented. "What—what did you do to me…?"

The red-eyed man flexed his hand, where dark red tendrils of energy briefly sparked around his fingers. "Your ability, Springlike Limbs, will serve me exceptionally well." His tone was cold, his slight smile sending a shiver through the room.

Haruka gasped, her voice trembling. "T-that can't be possible…"

"What the hell just happened?" Zak demanded.

The white-haired man approached the next prisoner, a lean, muscular man who exuded the aura of a seasoned athlete. "W-wait! I—I like my Meta-Ability! I don't want to give it up!" He pleaded desperately.

"Understandable, Prisoner 206," the man responded calmly, his tone almost sympathetic. "Your ability, Kinetic Booster, indeed gave you the edge needed to win several Olympic gold medals... before they were, regrettably, confiscated." As he spoke, he extended his hand and gently touched the man's face. Red energy flowed from the prisoner into the man's arm.

After the energy transfer, he stepped back and smirked slightly. "Do not despair. I assure you, I will make far better use of your power than you ever did. In fact, it will complement Springlike Limbs quite nicely."

"He... he's stealing their abilities," Haruka whispered, a mix of fear and disbelief coloring her tone.

Zak's eyes widened as he stared at the imposing figure dressed in black. Briefings at the SSR had hinted at a shadowy leader of Hydra rumored to wield a unique Meta-Ability—the power to transfer or strip abilities from others.

"All For One..." he murmured, a sense of dread enveloping him. They had been gathered like cattle for this man to select abilities at his whim.

'If he steals our powers, what then? I doubt he'd just let us go…' His eyes widened as the horrifying realization settled in.. 'No one comes back from isolation…'cause they're no longer of any use.'

---

A/N: While I intended to have this take up one chapter, due to the growing word count, I decided it'd be better to split up. Though the story beats are similar to the Hydra Base Infiltration and Breakout scenes from "The First Avenger", there's enough changes to warrant making it a two-parter.

Hopefully you enjoyed this addition to the story though.

There are sketches of Warden Ishiro Tagara, Haruka Shoudo, and Junnosuke Todoroki on my profile. Credit to Insane Dominator for drawing them! I don't have voice actors/actresses in mind yet, but feel free to offer any suggestion in the reviews/comments.

The next chapter should be out within a week or two.

Please leave any comments, critique, or suggestions in the review box below. As always, thank you for the support!