Compared to Gotham, it doesn't rain often in New York. The weather here is generally clear, but there are a few exceptions every year.
On this day, before daylight, a thin misty rain begins to fall over New York.
This is not good news for the people of Hell's Kitchen. As Manhattan's largest slum, the area doesn't enjoy much municipal welfare. Without diligent street sweepers, the rain only makes the streets muddier. If you don't want to ruin your sneakers, you have to wear heavy rain boots.
The odors of garbage and dust are more evident in such weather. Schiller closes the windows on the first floor. There are always a few drunks who vomit in his back alley, and the smell is unbearable.
Suddenly, the doorbell rings a clear chime. Schiller glances at his watch, and it is 6:30 in the morning. Even for fast-paced New York, it is too early.
Schiller goes downstairs and sees a tall, blond, blue-eyed man staring at the calendar on his bar.
Schiller remarks, "Looks like Natasha really scheduled a remarkable person for me. These days, it's rare to see someone up before 7 a.m."
The man replies, "So I'm grateful to find a kindred spirit here."
Schiller takes out the file Natasha brought the night before, looks at the photo, then sizes up the man, and says, "Steve Rogers, S.H.I.E.L.D. has made an open-ended appointment for your therapy session. They are so generous, it looks like your issue must be quite serious."
Steve just shrugs and says, "They think everything is very serious, including the fact that I left without breakfast this morning."
Schiller taps the table to indicate for him to sit down and says, "Well, you made the right decision. Perhaps the folks at S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't tell you, but I don't mind treating you to a meal if you come by during mealtime."
Steve smiles; his handsome face is both charming and bright.
Schiller prepares an American breakfast—toast, fried bacon, two sausages, a couple of large hash browns, and two cups of coffee.
Steve isn't really hungry, but the scent of the breakfast is too inviting. He picks up a piece of toast and asks, "Do you have any butter?"
Schiller looks at him somewhat surprised and says, "Oh, only strawberry jam."
He looks Steve up and down and continues, "It seems you're quite traditional. These days, not many people still butter their bread."
Steve replies, "That's alright, I'm just not used to eating such sweet jam for breakfast."
"How about some salsa instead? I made it myself," offers Schiller.
Schiller takes out a jar and passes it to Steve.
Steve glances at the coffee cup, which is only about the size of a lid, with its rich espresso inside, and says, "I apologize, but may I have a cup of American coffee instead?"
"American coffee? You could just directly say you want my dishwater," says Schiller.
On the other side, Natasha, who is listening in, says to the intercom, "Target refers to American coffee as dirty water; suspect might have Italian ancestry…"
Steve doesn't get upset; he just waves his hand and says, "Hey, don't say that. I just think the espresso is too strong for the heart."
Before he finishes speaking, Schiller downs two shots of espresso and then bites a large chunk of chocolate. The symbiote in his head hums happily.
Sitting across from Steve, Schiller joins him for breakfast.
"At first, Nick told me to find a psychologist in the slums by myself. I didn't understand. Aren't S.H.I.E.L.D.'s own doctors good enough?" says Steve.
"But now, I find the atmosphere here much better than those too-bright consulting rooms at S.H.I.E.L.D."
"They feel more like interrogation rooms than consulting rooms."
"Who can judge you?" Schiller asks. "Judge Captain America?"
Steve smiles helplessly and replies, "That's all in the past, including myself."
"I think S.H.I.E.L.D. would have really liked for you to go to their own consulting rooms. But I'm afraid they also know that it won't solve your problems there."
Schiller puts down his fork and asks, "Did you walk here from the outside streets? What do you think of this place? I mean, this slum."
Steve purses his lips and says, "I don't know how to describe it. It's terrifying because there's absolutely no change."
"In my time, the slums were the same. Dirty, stinking drains, vomit from drunkards, dead drunks slumped against building corners; the gang members couldn't get a penny out of their pockets, even children were habitually pickpocketing, never learning anything good."
"Many years pass, and this place remains unchanged; nothing changes," Steve states.
"What changes do you think should happen over the past few decades?" Schiller asks, taking a bite of his bread.
"Even if we can't eradicate the slums, the scale should at least be reduced, or the living conditions improved," Steve spreads his hands as he speaks.
Schiller shakes his head and says, "You win the war, Captain America. You truly defeat those fascists. We win. The fight for justice is over for many years."
"You think victory should bring many benefits, such as a more prosperous society and a better life for people. For those who have suffered, you are willing to fight to the last moment. And you do just that."
Schiller shakes his head slightly and says, "Decades later, you wake up again only to find that the world is not as you envisioned before you died. The black world is gone, not replaced by a white one, but a gray one, a color you can't comprehend."
Steve purses his lips, appearing somewhat silent, and Schiller says, "I know your problem is not, as S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks, that you have slept too long and are out of touch with society. It's not about small issues like not knowing how to use a cell phone, liking the radio, and having a too regular routine."
"For Captain America, if he wants to learn, there's no modern tool he can't master."
"If he can't, it must be because he doesn't want to learn."
"You're resisting this era. You don't want to accept it, or the fact that the results of your hard-fought efforts didn't turn out as beautifully as you hoped."
With a bitter tone, Steve says, "I have done my utmost. Even if the outcome isn't good, I am trying to accept it. What saddens me the most is that during the war, if people were living poorly, then I could strike down my enemy. No matter what it took, I would defeat them. But now, people are living poorly, and I don't even know who the opponent is."
"Perhaps you haven't considered that your era has passed, and with it the time when you felt responsible for others. You don't need to be a war machine anymore."
"What should I do then? Should I still do something, right?"
"Captain America, you are so compassionate. So even if I suggest that you pursue your hobbies, like drawing comics or doing sports, you wouldn't set aside these people's suffering just to enjoy yourself. You're not that kind of person, so I won't give you such useless advice."
"I'm sure S.H.I.E.L.D.'s psychologists have said the same. Doesn't everyone on this earth enjoy life? They think if they were like you, they would surely fly off to Hawaii for a vacation, especially since S.H.I.E.L.D. would pick up the tab."
"Mortals can't understand your excess of compassion and sense of responsibility. Of course, you don't need to worry about their misunderstanding."
Steve finds this very agreeable, feeling that someone finally understands him. With some complaints, he says, "They think I have many things to do, like working out, watching movies, playing video games, but the things I want to do aren't these. I show resistance, and they think it's because I'm too outdated to play with these things."
"But maybe you can take a different approach, don't seek understanding from ordinary people. The world is so big, you're not the hero of this era. But every era has its heroes; you can go find them. Those who, like you, once saved the world, or are saving it now, will understand you."
Schiller says, "Moreover, the heroes of this era are not immune to trouble. They are not as elder as you, nor as experienced. They might have strength but not know how to use it; they might be passionate but lack skill , or they might be disorganized and ununited."
"You can go and look for these people. Your era might be over, but the Earth still spins, and there are still those who continue to fight to save this world, right?"
Steve sighs and says, "I'm just an old soldier whose time has passed, but I am unwilling to stand down. You're right, Doctor, it's time for the new troops to enter the battlefield."
"However, I'm puzzled whether I can truly be of help. After all, it seems like the rules by which this world operates are completely different from those during the war."
"I do have someone to recommend to you. He's a fortunate young boy with an experience similar to yours. He was just a geek being bullied at school, and then one day, he gained tremendous power. He started darting around the city, never doing anything serious."
"You know how dangerous it can be to suddenly possess such power. To say it's not an exaggeration, his power continues to grow. Perhaps dozens of well-trained special forces wouldn't be his match."
Steve immediately becomes restless, saying, "Indeed, just after I completed my transformation, I couldn't control my own strength and accidentally injured two medical staff. Where is he now? In which hospital?"
"He's still attending school; he's about to have his final exams, studying for them."
"My goodness, how can he still be in school?"
He bangs the table slightly angrily, addressing the monitoring equipment on the table, "Hey, Nick, what are you doing? How can you let a transformed soldier stay at school? How many people could get hurt if he can't control his power?"
Steve stands up, but Schiller gestures for him to sit down, saying, "As I said, he's a lucky guy. He's different from you, not transformed by drugs but rather a special kind of mutation. His power will grow gradually, not all at once uncontrollably."
"What I mean is, a teenager, you know, arrogant and sensitive, impulsive and timid, needs someone to properly guide him, preferably to expose him to the harsh realities of society."
Steve clenches his fist and says, "Truly, I've seen plenty of raw recruits like that. They want to charge into battle fueled by nothing but fervor, only to be scared witless by bombing and shelling. They still have a long way to go."
Schiller responds, "I estimate that he'll finish his exams tomorrow night and will surely be out. You can intercept him and then give him a good beating. Don't worry, his mutation is strong; a beating won't hurt him much."
Steve even seems excited, reminiscent of his days on the battlefield. Those young recruits, each one being put in their place by the captain, hollering in shock. Seeing the new recruits' discomfort was one of the few relaxing and enjoyable moments in his military career.