Marvel 1919 : Rise of an Empire

"Boss," Paul greeted George, who had just gotten out of the car.

"Paul, you've worked hard," George said.

"It's all part of the job, Boss."

"Then walk around with me, and let them all disperse," George said with a smile.

"Alright, this way, Boss," Paul said, trailing half a step behind George.

"Boss, for this World of Tomorrow Exposition, our company has set up corresponding booths in every exhibition area. Based on the foot traffic, the general public's favorite is still the Modern Marvels Pavilion, where we're showcasing the computer project."

The World of Tomorrow Exposition showcased future technology. It wasn't just to promote ideas — it was spectacle, promise, and power. A platform for corporations to flaunt innovation, and for the public to gawk at the world they hadn't realized they'd be living in soon. From moving walkways to talking radios, the people poured in.

George and Paul headed toward the Modern Marvels Pavilion. The exhibition hall was alive, buzzing with bodies and energy. Unusual structures and prototype tech lined each booth.

At PL's booth, the computer division team was mid-demo. George took in the sight and motioned for Paul to come closer.

"Paul, we need to strengthen internal security. People like Turing and Von Neumann — we can't afford a risk."

Paul nodded. "Understood, Boss."

Not far behind them, Steve and Bucky entered with two young women. The deep voice of a male announcer echoed across the hall: "Welcome to the Modern Marvels Pavilion, a stronger World of Tomorrow! A more perfect World."

"Bucky, the PL Company's computer!" Steve said, lightly patting Bucky's arm.

Bucky smirked. "You even know what that thing does?"

Steve shrugged. "Not really. But it's from the future, right?"

Steve's eyes landed on the man near the booth — tall, polished, clearly someone used to attention.

"That's George Orwell Swent. From the newspapers."

"So?" Bucky replied. "He doesn't know you."

Steve hesitated, then said, "He saved my mom. I never thanked him. Today seems like a good day."

Without another word, Steve started moving toward the booth.

"Hey—Steve!" Bucky called out, then sighed, noticing the two girls next to him. "Yeah, he's probably just saying hello."

George and Paul paused mid-conversation as a voice called out: "Mr. George Orwell Swent!"

At first, George thought it was a reporter, but when he turned, he saw the voice belonged to a young, thin man below the platform.

"Mr. Orwell, thank you for saving my mother!"

George immediately understood. That body, that tone—he knew who this was. A strange little twist of fate.

He gestured for security to let the boy through.

Steve stood before him, nervous but determined.

"Sir, thank you! I'm Steve Rogers. My mom is Sarah Rogers. A few years ago, she got tuberculosis, and you sent someone to help. If you hadn't—"

George cut him off gently. "Steve, it was a small favor. Your mother's a strong woman."

"But later, you got her a job. She always remembered that. And I always wanted to say this in person — thank you."

George gave a small nod. "Alright, I accept your thanks. You here with your girl today?"

Steve blushed, glancing back. "That's my brother over there. The girl… I just met her. Not quite there yet."

George smiled faintly. "Very energetic. Here—my contact info. If you ever need something. And tonight? Make sure you don't miss the moment. Life's about to shift for you."

Steve accepted the card like it were a medal. "Thank you, sir."

"Have fun, Steve."

"Goodbye, sir!"

He rejoined Bucky and the girls.

"Do you really know that guy?" one of the girls asked.

Steve nodded. "He helped my mom once. I owed him."

Not far off, jazz exploded from the Stark booth. A swarm of dancers in black dresses and top hats took the stage. Legs, lights, music — pure chaos.

The girls grabbed Bucky and pushed toward the front. Even Steve cracked a smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Howard Stark!"

Howard appeared in all his peacock glory. Top hat, tailored suit, charm set to maximum. He kissed the host, wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, and grabbed the mic.

"What if I told you," Stark said, "that in just a few short years, your car wouldn't touch the ground?"

Cue drama. Women pulled tires off a shiny red car, revealing metal coils.

"Stark anti-gravity tech. All real."

Howard flipped a switch. The car lifted.

The crowd gasped.

Then the car sparked, groaned, and crashed back onto the stage.

Howard grinned. "I said a few years, didn't I?"

Applause anyway. Because that's what Stark sold — the dream.

Steve, distracted, looked away. A poster caught his eye.

"I WANT YOU."

"Steve," Bucky said, "come on, we're about to ask these girls to dance."

But Steve was already walking toward the recruitment booth.

Bucky caught up quickly. "Man, seriously? It's a carnival. Not another one of your stunts."

"I've already made up for one regret today," Steve said. "Might as well try my luck."

"Where this time? Ohio?"

"They'll catch you. And if they don't? You get shipped out and die in a trench."

"I know you think I can't do it," Steve said quietly.

"This isn't a fight, Steve. It's war."

"I know."

Their voices caught the attention of a bespectacled man nearby.

Dr. Abraham Erskine.

"Then get a job first," Bucky said.

"Doing what? Sweeping alleys?"

Steve's frustration boiled. "I'm not hiding in the back. Everyone's out there risking their lives."

"You just want to prove something."

Steve looked at him. "Maybe. Maybe I do."

From a distance, one of the girls' voices came, "Are we dancing or not?"

Bucky turned. "Coming!"

He gave Steve a tight hug. "Don't be stupid. Wait for me."

"I won't. You already took all the stupid."

"You scoundrel."

"You too. Be safe."

"Wait till I get there and win the war," Steve called.

Bucky saluted.

They didn't know it, but this was goodbye.

Dr. Erskine followed Steve into the medical tent. After their talk, he made a choice.

"Congratulations, soldier."

Steve emerged, enlistment papers in hand, nearly vibrating with joy. He had no one to tell.

So he punched the air.

"What's got you so worked up?" George asked behind him.

"Oh, sorry, sir. I just passed. I'm in. I'm finally going to war."

"To kill devils?" George asked, eyebrow raised.

Steve shook his head. "No, sir. To end it. I don't want to kill anyone."

"What about your mother?"

"She'll understand. I think."

George gave him a long look. "Then congratulations. But it's a long road from here to the front."

"Goodbye, sir."

"Goodbye, Steve. We'll meet again."

Meanwhile, at a hidden HYDRA base...

Schmidt stood beside Zola, watching the final touches of a machine.

"Are you ready, Doctor?"

Zola squinted through a lens. "Not yet. This requires precision."

Schmidt lifted the Tesseract in its case. He clamped it into the machine.

Zola raised the power.

"Twenty. Forty. Sixty. Hold at seventy—"

Schmidt shoved him aside and slammed the control.

"I didn't come this far to be cautious."

The machine lit up blue, and Energy pulsed.

Then with a bang, the Systems blew up and the Sparks rained all over the room..

Zola gasped. "What was that?"

Schmidt pointed towards a container pulsing with a glowing extract.

"Congratulations, Arnim. Your machine didn't disappoint."

Zola stared. "It's stable… it actually worked."

Schmidt smiled at the Tesseract. "This won't just change the war. This will change the world."Schmidt said, looking at the Tesseract

_____________

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