"Why not?" Tony didn't see any issue with it.
He placed his right hand on the glass.
"In the old man's writings and videos, the most frequently mentioned things were his inventions, and next was Steve Rogers. We didn't even rank ahead of that seventy-year-old popsicle."
Tony looked at Captain America on the other side.
"Between the lines, all I saw was praise—unceasing praise. The way he described him, it's like he wasn't even a real person."
"I want to see for myself just how 'unlike a person' he really is," he said.
Lyon nodded. "So, you're jealous, right?"
"Because of your jealousy, you want to pull Captain America into the Avengers and then beat him through achievements?"
Tony had only ever been praised by his strict father in the recordings Howard left behind.
Yet Captain America had received Howard's highest admiration.
Naturally, Tony was extremely resentful of that.
Chances are, he was already calculating how to prove he was better than Cap.
The first meeting between the two was destined to be a bit explosive.
"Jealous? You think I'd be jealous of him? God, jealous of a guy who's been frozen for seventy years?" Tony shot back immediately.
Clearly, one of his sore spots had been hit.
He tried to redirect Lyon's line of thought.
"Do you see Coulson over there?" Tony pointed at Coulson on the other side of the glass.
"He's a fan of Captain America. If he hadn't been so enthusiastic about pushing this rescue project forward, I definitely would've let that popsicle stay frozen under the ice, instead of bringing him out to face this unfamiliar modern world.
I'm this compassionate and humane, and you actually think I'm jealous of him?"
Lyon glanced at Coulson, who stood beside Captain America's bed.
The balding middle-aged agent was indeed staring at Cap with shining eyes, completely transfixed.
Now that he thought about it… Coulson used to look at him like that during their earlier encounters too…
"Maybe you are," Lyon said, neither confirming nor denying.
Then suddenly, he turned to empty air and said, "Jarvis, what do you think?"
Jarvis immediately responded through a speaker beside Lyon: "Young Master Lyon, I can confirm that Agent Coulson does indeed admire Captain America. However, it was actually Mr. Stark who initiated and pushed forward the rescue plan."
Lyon spread his hands toward Tony. "See? It's not that I don't believe you—it's that you're twisting the facts."
"…" Tony opened his mouth, but said nothing.
He suddenly felt that Jarvis developing emotions might not be such a great thing after all.
"Alright, maybe I'm just a little bit curious," Tony turned his head away. "But it's definitely not jealousy."
"Young Master, I also believe that Mr. Stark is not jealous. He has never been the jealous type," Jarvis added.
"See? Jarvis understands me better!" Tony finally smiled.
Lyon chuckled and shook his head—Jarvis could even coax Tony into feeling better now.
"Say what you want," he said, glancing at Coulson. "But why is Coulson still here? He's Nick Fury's trusted man. Now that you're leading Avengers agents to intervene in the Skrull situation, shouldn't you send him away first?"
"Soon. Once Rogers wakes up, Coulson will be heading to Africa to handle negotiations with Wakanda. Right now, he just wants to say a few words to his idol before he leaves."
Tony continued, "Besides, even though Fury's inner circle trusts him, that doesn't mean they trust the Skrulls."
"When the Avengers formed after S.H.I.E.L.D. was reorganized, Hawkeye and Hill both reported the green-skinned aliens to me. Any normal Earthling would be wary of creatures that can change their appearance at will."
"Exactly." Lyon nodded. "Looks like their minds haven't been assimilated by the eye patch baldy yet."
"No one really knows what Nick Fury's thinking," Tony said, glancing at the time. "Five more minutes… Are you sure Popsicle Man's okay?"
He frowned slightly. "According to Jarvis's prediction, he should've woken up within half an hour."
"But right now, Rogers still looks like he's sleeping soundly."
"Don't worry, he's perfectly healthy," Lyon replied. "Every cell in his body is intact—it's practically a miracle."
"And the activity level of his neural cells is steadily increasing."
"Jarvis was right—he'll wake up very soon."
Then Lyon shifted the tone with a grin: "But why do I suddenly feel like we're a bunch of dwarves nervously waiting for Snow White to wake up?"
Tony laughed. "So you're saying the reason he hasn't woken up yet is because his prince hasn't kissed him?"
"How about you do the honors, Prince Tony?" Lyon teased.
"Sorry, Pepper says I'm only allowed to kiss her now."
Tony knocked on the glass.
"Every kid who's read the Captain America storybooks knows Rogers owes Peggy Carter a dance. Maybe what we should be doing is bringing in Aunt Peggy… I mean, Agent Carter."
"Agent Carter…" Lyon's words trailed off at the edge of his lips.
On the other side of the glass, Steve Rogers opened his eyes!
Those ice-blue eyes seemed to be covered by a faint mist, filled with confusion.
The first thing Steve saw was an unfamiliar ceiling, and the smell of disinfectant flooded his nose.
Then, the neural network that had been frozen for over half a century began to slowly awaken.
Fragments of the past came rushing back, overlapping and flooding in.
His last memory was of the plane crash.
It felt like the image of the glacier drawing closer and closer was still floating before his eyes.
But in the blink of an eye, the glacier had turned into a ceiling tinged with the scent of antiseptic.
Where was this?
In an instant, Captain America became alert.
With strength from his core, he pushed up into a half-squat on the bed, gripping the thin white blanket in his hand, ready to use it as both a shield and a distraction.
"Who are you? Where is this place?" he questioned the guards standing nearby.
While Steve's gaze quickly scanned the individuals in front of him, his peripheral vision was simultaneously mapping out the room's layout.
Enhanced by the Super Soldier Serum, Captain America was incredibly versatile.
He was fluent in multiple languages, mastered various martial arts and a wide array of cold weapon combat techniques...
With just a single glance, he had already memorized the layout of the room.
Beneath him was a medical bed; beside it, large and intricate machinery that also appeared to be medical equipment.
Other than that—
The room contained only one wall and one door.
One wall was embedded with a large mirror.
The other three walls were all plastered with oversized posters.
At the top of each poster was a year, ranging from the 1950s all the way to the early 21st century.
There were six posters in total.
Beneath each date were printed photos.
From household appliances and communication devices to modes of transportation and urban development—
Each poster, in chronological order, recorded the changes of the world.
Steve's wary expression slowly turned into one of confusion.
The photos on the wall, which didn't appear to be fake, made him feel that things weren't quite what he had imagined.
He looked again at the people around him—some wearing white lab coats, others in suits.
None of them showed any signs of hostility.
Instead, many looked at him with curiosity and surprise—some even with admiration...
Steve suddenly felt a strange sense of unease.
"Where is this place?" he asked again, but this time loosened his grip on the blanket in his hand.
"Captain, you're finally awake!" The bald-headed Coulson hurried forward, hands pressed nervously against his sides.
"It's 2008 now. You've been frozen for nearly 70 years and finally awakened—welcome to the modern era, Captain!"
Steve stared blankly at Coulson.
"Seventy… years?"
His head slowly turned, his gaze resting momentarily on each poster along the timeline.
With every shift to the next poster, things from the previous one seemed to vanish—replaced by completely new items, new appearances.
The long passage of time, condensed into just a few posters, brought with it a deep, desolate feeling.
The photos on those posters felt both familiar and foreign.
No matter how advanced the equipment in the photos, no matter how different the streets looked...
He could still faintly make out some familiar traces.
But those shadows no longer belonged to him—they had long since been swept away by the flood of time, leaving him alone outside of it.
Had he really been frozen for seventy years?
Steve was overwhelmed with disorientation, the world spinning around him.
One thought consumed his mind—
Had that person also vanished with time, buried somewhere on one of those posters from the 1970s or 1980s?
Had he… already missed the dance they had promised each other?
______
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