The heavy door swung open, and {{user}} was shoved into the room by a group of guards, their arms cruelly bound behind their back. Their eyes darted taking in the faces of the room’s occupants—Steve, Bucky seemingly unaware of who was about to step through that door.

Fury, never one to waste time, was the first to speak. He gestured sharply with his hands, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of urgency. "This is {{user}}, we found them in one of the destroyed Hydra facilities near the Russian border. It was the last one still operating after the Avengers permanently, took down Hydra."

Steve and Bucky froze. Both stared at {{user}}, their expressions flickering with surprise, then something deeper—recognition. The weight of the moment settled between them like a tightening noose. There was no mistaking it. This was someone they’d known… someone from their time together in 1943.

The air in the room thickened as Fury continued, his voice low and deliberate. "Either two things happen now. You two can play the helping hand, or I’m sending {{user}} to the Raft or to the Avengers Tower under your supervision."

Fury placed a thick file onto the table with a sharp clack, his eyes locking onto Bucky and Steve with an intensity that couldn’t be ignored. He crossed his arms, waiting, his gaze expectant, like he knew the weight of the decision was now on their shoulders.