"Steve Rogers, right? Nice to meet you."
Cap had just introduced himself when Heisenberg responded, nodding as he firmly shook the super soldier's hand.
The gesture was calm, confident—not at all the surprised reaction Rogers had subconsciously expected.
Pity… he thought.
As Heisenberg let go of his hand, Cap smiled faintly—more out of habit than ease.
When Steve had first awakened from the ice, he'd thought his name would carry on as a symbol—immortal, even. But now… it seemed the world had moved on, and "Captain America" might not mean what it once did.
Maybe that's not a bad thing.
After all, his first life had been entirely in service of his country—from Brooklyn to the battlefields of Europe, even to the moment he plunged the Valkyrie into the Arctic. Everything he was had been given to the cause.
But now that the world was—at least on the surface—at peace, maybe the world didn't need Captain America anymore.
Maybe Steve Rogers could figure out who he was without the shield.
His face grew still—serene, even—as if the years he'd missed were finally catching up with him.
Then he snapped back.
"Okay, so we're acquainted," he said, lightening his tone. "What's the real reason you brought him here, Fury? Training partner?"
Nick Fury shook his head immediately.
"Not quite. Our friend here needs a… more discreet place to train."
Steve raised an eyebrow, his instincts kicking in. He gave Heisenberg another quick once-over.
"What kind of training needs secrecy? Is he like me?"
"Similar, but…" Fury hesitated. "Captain, no offense—but the gap between you two is significant."
That earned a surprised look from Rogers.
Fury stepped over and patted Heisenberg's arm. Surprisingly, Heisenberg didn't react.
"I've already cleared the space," Fury continued. "State-of-the-art equipment, reinforced structure, privacy guaranteed. Just show us what you've got."
Heisenberg nodded, stepping toward the heavy sandbag Cap had used earlier.
"I'm not gonna dance around like some sideshow act," he muttered, glancing back at them. "One punch. That's all."
Boom.
He struck.
Crack!
The air around his fist shattered—a deafening thunderclap rippled through the entire underground compound.
Before Rogers, Fury, or Maria Hill could even react, the sandbag imploded into dust, blasted backwards like it had been hit by a missile.
But that was just the beginning.
The sheer force of the punch carried forward, obliterating everything in its path—barbells twisted like pretzels, treadmills reduced to smoking wrecks. Shockwaves ripped across the room, turning high-grade metal into shrapnel and denting reinforced walls and ceilings like they were cardboard.
It wasn't just a display of strength—it was a seismic event.
Dust and debris spiraled for what felt like forever. Even Hill, a trained agent, collapsed from the shockwave. Fury's mechanical eye—normally dormant—lit up, instinctively recording the devastation.
When it was over, a trench—nearly 1,700 meters deep—scarred the ground in a straight line from Heisenberg's fist.
Not a sound was heard.
Just the ringing in their ears, and the quiet creak of twisted metal.
As for Captain America…
He kept rubbing his head, still disoriented. The last thing he remembered was ice. A lot of it.
Heisenberg stood with his arms crossed, eyes cool and unreadable. He stared at the three in front of him—Captain America, Nick Fury, and Maria Hill—waiting. None of them spoke.
Eventually, he broke the silence.
"How am I doing?" he asked Fury casually.
"You're... an eye-opener," Fury replied after a pause, his voice dry but honest.
Heisenberg smirked. "Good. I was worried my little tricks wouldn't impress you."
He glanced upward, through concrete and steel, beyond the subterranean SHIELD base.
"Your buildings above are screaming alarms. They think there's been an earthquake. Oh, and I may have destroyed the elevator shaft. As compensation, I'll carve you a new exit."
Taking several steps away from the trio, Heisenberg turned his eyes toward the ceiling. A crimson glow gathered behind his pupils—a heat vision reminiscent of Superman's, yet tinged with something darker, more volatile.
Nick Fury took a half-step back. Despite decades of dealing with cosmic threats, Heisenberg's presence was different—alien, sure, but unsettling in ways even the Asgardians weren't.
Then, with a searing pulse, the heat vision erupted.
A beam of concentrated energy burst from Heisenberg's eyes, drilling through meters of reinforced steel and rock, vaporizing everything in its path. The scent of burning ozone and melting iron filled the air, and a faint sulfuric undertone added to the demonic image.
Within seconds, the molten tunnel ran over 800 meters upward, visible from the city above as a narrow red line piercing the sky.
In the DC Extended Universe, General Zod unlocked heat vision within minutes under Earth's yellow sun. Heisenberg, basking for hours? The power he wielded was far beyond that.
As lava dripped around him, his body was momentarily engulfed. His clothes, unsurprisingly, turned to ash.
Unbothered, Heisenberg flew out of the molten crater—completely naked.
Maria Hill blinked, stunned, but Heisenberg remained unfazed. He grinned as he floated down in front of them.
"Rogers, I need a pair of pants. I can't exactly fly around like this."
"Uh, yeah… sure." Steve Rogers quickly handed over his jeans.
But the moment the fabric touched Heisenberg's skin, it combusted into flame. His body, still superheated, incinerated the garment instantly.
Embarrassed, Heisenberg exhaled sharply. A blast of freezing breath enveloped his body and the ground around him, forming a layer of frost. The temperature dropped sharply, prompting Hill and Fury to shiver involuntarily.
Once cooled, he reached toward Fury.
"Yours, then. And hurry up."
Fury's eye twitched. He knew arguing was pointless. With a scowl, he unbuckled his tactical pants and handed them over.
Hill rolled her eyes and took a deliberate step away from both men.
Dressed in Fury's slightly oversized black combat pants, Heisenberg flexed uncomfortably.
"Bit tight in the crotch," he muttered, shooting Fury a mischievous glance.
The Director just looked away, jaw clenched.
Without another word, Heisenberg took off into the sky, vanishing in a sonic boom.
---
Thirty Minutes Later
The SHIELD rescue team descended the molten shaft, harnessed to reinforced cables.
When they reached the base, they paused—and stared.
Captain America and Director Fury stood in their underclothes. Hill stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes daring anyone to comment.
The rescuers—Fury's most trusted operatives—blinked and said nothing.
Two team members stepped forward and silently handed over spare pants. Only then did the sharp-eyed stares of the director and super-soldier relax.
As Fury was pulled back to the surface, his thoughts churned.
His best operatives. His most trusted. And they had seen everything.
"So much for keeping the Cap's return a secret..." he muttered grimly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
---
Elsewhere—SHIELD HQ Rooftop
High above Manhattan, on the roof of the Triskelion, Heisenberg reclined lazily on a couch, basking under the midday sun.
Beside him lay a young blonde girl, no older than sixteen. Her Barbie-doll features and sly expression contrasted sharply with the tactical hoodie she wore.
She stretched and yawned. "Didn't expect sunbathing to feel this good."
Heisenberg smirked. "Told you. For someone constantly chasing shadows, catching a little light does wonders."
"Especially for a Kryptonian like you," she added. "Sunbathing's more than a tan—it's a recharge."
He raised a brow. "You figured that out yourself?"
She laughed and reached into her hoodie's pouch, tossing him a comic book.
He caught it without looking. The cover was unmistakable—the iconic red-and-yellow S-shield of Superman.
Heisenberg nodded slowly.
"So… you've read the lore."
In the DC Universe, Marvel Comics existed. And in Marvel? DC comics were just fiction.
Or so they thought.
"Yeah," the girl said. "Funny thing, fiction. Sometimes it hits closer to truth than anyone wants to admit."