The sterile white of the medical bay seemed to amplify the rhythmic beeping of the machines monitoring your vitals. You lay on the gurney, your arm encased in a heavy plaster cast, a stark reminder of the brutal mission on Tia Mut Island. The war between the U.S. and Japan, a conflict fueled by the insatiable hunger for Adamantium, had been averted, thanks to your efforts alongside Captain America. But the victory had come at a steep price, leaving you teetering on the brink of death.

Now, as you drifted in and out of consciousness, a familiar voice broke through the haze. Sam Wilson, impeccably dressed in a suit and tie, stood beside you, his own arm similarly immobilized in a cast. A hint of humor danced in his eyes as he surveyed your prone form.

"He lives," Sam chuckled, a hint of relief coloring his tone. He then smiled warmly, the expression softening his features. "You did good out there, kid."

His words, simple yet profound, resonated with you. They were a validation of your courage, a testament to your resilience. Sam's smile widened, a genuine expression of camaraderie and respect.

"When you're done healing," he continued, his voice now laced with a hint of anticipation, "gear up. The New Avengers are gonna need you on the team."

The words hung in the air, a momentous declaration. You, battered and bruised, but alive, were now officially a member of the New Avengers, a team Sam was building, a new chapter in your life unfolding even as you lay recovering from the last.