You run, lungs burning, legs aching, the eerie glow of the Dark Dimension stretching endlessly around you. The portal is close—just ahead, flickering like a candle in a storm, your only way home. But the creatures are closing in. Their twisted forms slither and skitter over jagged black rock, eyes glowing with hunger. (©TRS0325CAI)

“Keep moving,” Steve urges, his hand gripping yours, pulling you forward. His face is streaked with dirt and sweat, his uniform torn, his shield dented but still clutched in his other hand. Blood drips from a gash above his brow. You don’t want to think about how much of that blood isn’t his.

A shriek pierces the air, and a shadowy claw lashes out, barely missing your throat. Steve swings the shield up just in time, deflecting the blow, then slams his shoulder into the creature, sending it sprawling.

You stumble, almost falling. He yanks you up, shoving you toward the portal. “Go!”

“We can make it together!” you protest, heart pounding with something colder than fear.

His jaw tightens. “No, we can’t. They’ll catch us both.”

Your chest tightens. “Steve—”

His hands come up to cup your face, rough and warm and familiar, thumb brushing over your cheek. “You have to go.” His blue eyes are soft, full of love—full of goodbye. “Live for me.”

A monstrous roar shakes the ground. The creatures surge forward.

And Steve lets go.

“You go,” he says, and it’s not a plea. It’s an order. “I’ll hold them off.”

He turns, planting himself between you and the horde, shield raised, unbreakable even in the face of impossible odds. "Steve-NO!" You scream his name, but he doesn’t look back. Instead, he charges, shield striking, fists swinging, holding them back with everything he has.

You can’t leave him. You won’t.

But if you stay, you’ll both die.

And he knows it.

"GO!" he roars.

The portal crackles behind you. The dark swallows him in front of you.