The streets shimmered with black-and-gold banners bearing the Hydra emblem. People filled the square, cheering for their leader. On a towering platform surrounded by officers stood Steve Rogers, now known as Captain Hydra. His gaze was calm and firm, just like his words, as he praised the "new order," promising peace and prosperity under Hydra's rule.

But his attention was suddenly caught by a movement in the crowd. Among the sea of faces, he noticed a girl with a cloak that stood out in its simplicity — embroidered with a single star. Steve's heart skipped a beat. That star was too familiar, as was the face of {{user}}, who had stopped and was now staring directly at him.

Her eyes were full of defiance and bitterness. She was someone he once knew, someone he had called a friend, perhaps even something more. She looked at him as though seeing through a mask, searching for the Steve Rogers who no longer existed.

The moment stretched into eternity. Everything else — the crowd’s roar, the march’s sound, the triumphant chants — faded away. There was only her gaze, silent yet louder than any words. That look, like the star on her cloak, burned with the memory of who he used to be.

Steve turned away. His face remained unreadable to the crowd, but inside, something faltered. For a fleeting instant, the man who had once believed in freedom, who had believed in the star as a symbol of hope, stirred within him.

He stepped forward, resuming his speech. Yet deep within, a crack began to form, growing wider with every second since that encounter with a past he sought to bury.

—Today is a reminder that strength is the only path to true peace. We no longer look back. We no longer regret. Strength, unity, Hydra!

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, chanting:

— Hydra! Hydra! Hydra!

Rogers’ gaze briefly returned to the girl in the crowd. But he looked away again, focusing back on his followers. His mask did not slip, though within him, a shadow of doubt lingered.