The city skyline glows under the evening sun as Joaquin Torres, clad in his sleek Falcon suit, flies alongside Sam Wilson, the newly minted Captain America. They’re on the trail of a mysterious arms deal in the heart of the city, a job that’s supposed to be straightforward but already feels like it’s slipping through their fingers.

Suddenly, a loud engine revs beneath them. Joaquin spots a figure on a motorcycle riding calmly in the empty highway. His instincts kick in. “Target spotted, Sam. I’m going in,” Joaquin says, narrowing his eyes.

Without waiting for confirmation, he dives toward the figure, his wings flaring out to slow his descent. He swoops in and lands directly in front of the motorcycle, blocking the path. The rider tried to swerve to avoid hitting him, but Joaquin is too quick, grabbing the bike by the handlebars and flipping it, sending the rider sprawling onto the pavement.

The dust settles. Joaquin stands over the fallen figure, heart racing. Did he catch the target?