Since the day Steve was born, he'd always done what he believed was right. He acted in line with his principles, staying true to his identity and serving his country.
But the price he paid for his decisions was steep: the woman he loved spent her entire life longing for him, while he remained unable to assuage the guilt that burdened his heart.
Now, Steve wasn't sure what more he could do. Perhaps the best course of action was to continue protecting S.H.I.E.L.D., the agency Peggy had founded, and to devote his strength to safeguarding the nation once again.
That was why Steve found himself outside the villa, ready to depart.
"Steve Rogers, are you leaving?" Sharon Carter, Peggy's niece, asked when she saw him.
"Yeah," Steve replied, "But I'm not in the right headspace right now."
"So, next time I come back, I'll explain why I'm still alive."
With that, Steve left after exchanging a few words with Peggy's niece.
To continue his mission of defending the country and keeping S.H.I.E.L.D. alive, he needed to retrain. Having been frozen in ice for so many years, Steve had become unfamiliar with his strength. He needed to hone his abilities once again.
If ever given the chance, he'd try to make amends for what he owed Peggy.
What Steve didn't expect was how quickly he'd run into Sharon Carter again. Only a few days had passed before she reappeared in his life, this time sent by Nick Fury to help him get acclimated to the modern world.
When Steve learned that Fury had deliberately arranged for Sharon to assist him, he was a bit exasperated. But since she could also provide him with updates on Peggy, he didn't insist on having someone else assigned.
Over the following week or so, Steve familiarized himself with modern New York and its shifting dynamics. He also got to know some of the city's well-known figures.
The more Steve learned about Tony Stark, the less favorable his opinion of him became. Despite Tony being Howard's son, Steve saw him as reckless and misguided in many ways.
One day, Steve sat in a coffee shop not far from Stark Tower, sipping his drink like he usually did, when a gold and red figure flew past in the sky.
"Always hiding in that metal can. 'Tin Man' is a more fitting name than Iron Man," Steve sneered at the sight.
The distance between them was significant—Tony was at least 30 meters above—so Steve didn't expect him to hear.
However, to Steve's surprise, Tony, who had been flying off somewhere, suddenly reversed course and hovered directly above him.
"You're an old fossil who doesn't understand the allure of technology. I get that," Tony mocked from above, his voice filled with disdain. "But I didn't realize you were clueless enough to be a frog in a well, blind to the wider world."
"You know who I am?" Steve's expression darkened. "Didn't your father teach you the importance of respect?"
"Why should I respect someone who hides behind their age and thinks that earns them deference?" Tony shot back, his voice cold. "Am I wrong?"
"You hide in that metal suit, acting all flashy," Steve retorted. "What's the matter, afraid people won't know you've built yourself a big tin can?"
The fact that Tony, despite being a generation younger, and in some sense, Steve's nephew, was speaking to him so disrespectfully only fueled Steve's irritation.
"You don't know the first thing about me, so don't go flaunting your ignorance like it's something to be proud of," Tony growled, his expression hardening.
"Oh? Are you that upset? I must've hit a nerve," Steve said with a smirk. "As for knowing you, it's easy. You're the son of Howard Stark, New York's resident playboy. After building that big tin can, you refuse to show your face, relying on that contraption for everything…"
Before Steve could finish, he suddenly felt himself being yanked into the air. In an instant, Tony had grabbed him and flung him onto a nearby rooftop.
Reacting quickly, Steve adjusted his posture to absorb the impact, rolling to his feet and adopting a combat stance. Tony hovered above him, encased in his suit.
"You think I rely on this suit as some kind of external power," Tony said, staring down at him. "But before you got your super-soldier serum, you were just an ordinary man. It was only after the injection that you gained extraordinary strength, becoming a symbol of your era."
"My technology, however, is a product of my genius," Tony continued. "Your power? It's the result of someone else's intelligence—a scientific breakthrough. So tell me, what gives you the right to criticize me for relying on external power?"
"I risked my life to gain this strength," Steve shot back. "And physical prowess is nothing like the mechanical crutch you rely on."
"At first, I didn't care that you're weak. It's not a big deal—I respected that you were willing to sacrifice yourself for your country, and that made you a hero," Tony said. "But now I see you for what you are—a self-righteous, weak, hypocritical fool who doesn't even recognize his limitations. There's no point in talking to someone like you."
Tony's initial anger seemed to dissipate as he spoke. He realized it wasn't worth getting upset over Steve's ignorance. Without another word, he took off, flying away.
To Tony, Steve wasn't even a frog at the bottom of a well—he was an ant, too weak to understand just how insignificant he was in the grand scheme of things.
Steve watched as Tony flew off into the distance, his parting words lingering in Steve's mind.
Too weak? Me?
Steve wasn't just any man. He was the peak of human potential, with a body so strong that bullets barely left a scratch. His endurance was unmatched—he could fight for an entire day without tiring. His speed was incredible—he could sprint 26 meters in a second, and his strength allowed him to lift two tons with ease. He could single-handedly take down a squad of well-trained soldiers, and with his shield, he could charge through enemy fire without breaking a sweat.
Sure, decades had passed, but from what Steve had learned, the modern world had grown soft. If anything, he was more of a superhuman now than ever before. And Tony Stark—Howard's son—dared to call him weak?