Steve Rogers was a man who followed the rules. He didn't speed, even on a roaring motorcycle that could slice through the city streets like a beast unleashed. Instead, he cruised slowly through Brooklyn, adhering to traffic laws as he navigated the bustling streets. Occasionally, he stopped at a roadside cart to grab two ice creams—chocolate for himself and strawberry for Solomon.
Steve Rogers was the quintessential rule-follower, and Solomon could see it plainly. Captain America, the paragon of virtue, dedicated his life to his country, its flag, and its people. Yet this steadfast loyalty, rooted in a world that no longer existed, had become his burden.
Unlike the highly educated Tony Stark or Bruce Banner, Steve lacked a formal academic background. However, he had a keen sense of right and wrong, and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s decision to recruit him—rather than allowing the military to reassign him—spared him from being dragged into the messy politics of post-World War II geopolitics.
Solomon's revelations about global affairs had only reinforced Steve's mistrust of modern institutions. He had verified the claims himself: the CIA's hand in the chaos of the Middle East, the orchestrated revolutions in Egypt and Syria. He knew that if he rejoined the military, his loyalty might be exploited, sending him to fight in conflicts born of corruption and greed.
In the past, Steve Rogers fought for justice and righteousness. But now, with those ideals in tatters, he sought a new purpose.
For the betterment of humanity, perhaps?
"I need to conduct human experiments—or, rather, I must," Solomon finally said as they arrived at their destination. Removing his helmet, he stepped off the motorcycle. It was time for a conversation, uninterrupted by the noise of the city.
He couldn't quite understand why Nick Fury had sent Steve Rogers to meet him. Did Fury honestly think Captain America would convince him to abandon his plans? Or was Fury unaware that Solomon was just as likely to sway Steve to his side?
Ah, the old fox! Fury likely gambled on Steve's staunch opposition to the super-soldier program. Solomon knew that Steve's objections weren't born of selfishness; rather, Steve understood the potential horrors of a world flooded with super-soldiers, weaponized and misused.
"I'm sure Fury has told you this already, but the world isn't what it used to be. Everything changed the day the Chitauri invaded—New York, London—this world is stretched thin, its nerves taut. Any rash actions could spark a conflict, even a war," Solomon said, handing the helmet back to Steve. "I know you hate the super-soldier program, and I know why."
Steve listened intently, his expression serious but open. He was willing to hear Solomon out, even as he anticipated disagreeing with him.
"You've seen the enemies I face, Captain Rogers. These aren't threats from this universe; they come from beyond. That's why I need to create an army," Solomon continued. "I doubt Fury told you the true purpose of this army—he's afraid you'd be convinced. This army's mission is to eradicate the enemies of humanity, to destroy extra-dimensional and dark magical entities. You've seen what I face. You've seen how ordinary elites perform on the battlefield."
"I understand," Steve replied earnestly, holding Solomon's gaze. "But Fury also raised another issue: how can we be sure you won't turn this army against humanity? What if you decide to conquer the world? Can you guarantee that won't happen?"
"No," Solomon replied bluntly, shrugging. He valued honesty when dealing with someone as straightforward as Steve. "This universe is filled with powerful empires—the Kree, Xandar, Asgard—all of them united across multiple planets. And yet humanity remains trapped on a single sphere."
His tone carried the weariness of a parent reviewing a failing report card. "Especially in Western countries, Captain. Capitalist short-sightedness is on full display. You must admit, the world is full of fools. Democracy often serves as little more than a veneer for capitalist manipulation, with voters swayed by trivial promises—like opposing taxes on the rich because they believe it will create more jobs. Tell me, can a country run by fools and led by fools truly govern effectively? At this rate, humanity will exhaust Earth's resources without ever escaping the solar system."
Solomon's voice grew colder. "If nothing changes, I won't rule out using my power to purge the parasites. Then I'll establish a society that works."
Steve's expression hardened. "And how is that different from Hitler, Solomon? Where did you learn to think this way?"
Solomon chuckled darkly. "Since you've asked, I'll answer: there's no difference, Captain. Hitler sought to elevate Aryans; I champion all of humanity. I would treat aliens as the Nazis treated the Jews. Unless you're an alien sympathizer, you have no grounds to object. I understand the weight of such crimes, and I'm willing to bear it. I value life, but only human life. My methods may not be cleaner than America's, but you can't comprehend the challenges we face. When the kings protecting this universe grow old and pass, we'll have no one to rely on but ourselves."
"But the Avengers…"
"Spare me the individual heroism," Solomon interrupted sharply. "You're the quintessential American, Rogers! Individual heroism only works when it's supported by collective effort. The Avengers are strong, sure—but if the Chitauri hadn't feared Asgard, if they'd dared to invade the solar system, their terrifying weapons would have rained down on Earth long before you assembled. Without S.H.I.E.L.D. coordinating you all, you'd still be scattered across the planet when the portal opened."
"I didn't mean that," Steve said, sighing. Solomon's mindset reminded him of battle-weary soldiers who viewed everything as a threat. But Solomon was so young—how had he already developed such a bleak perspective?
"Earth isn't in as bad a state as you think. People can still enjoy their lives."
"For now," Solomon replied, his face impassive. "But how long can people bury their heads in the sand? Asgard's king is aging. The Sorcerer Supreme…" He paused, taking a deep breath. "When the guardians of the material plane and the Nine Realms are gone, we won't have much time left. You can't feel my urgency, Rogers. I can't afford to stop."
"This isn't your responsibility; it's humanity's," Steve said firmly.
"Really? So far, only one nation has recognized the path forward," Solomon said. "But one nation alone can't drag all of humanity upward. This is my responsibility, Steve. When I took up the Holy Sword forged by Gaia, that burden became mine. The pressure is something I must bear."
Steve ruffled his hair in frustration. Fury had truly dropped a monumental problem into his lap. He couldn't argue against Solomon's points, but he had another approach: postpone the debate.
"Look, I can't fully understand what you're facing, but I know this: you're under too much pressure," Steve said candidly. "You need a way to relieve it. Fury's reports say you don't have much in the way of hobbies—aside from video games. How about trying boxing? I haven't had anyone to spar with for ages, and I think you might give me a good fight."
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