Captain America and Falcon stood before Nick Fury, the director of the super-spy group known as S.H.I.E.L.D. Cap—in his red, white, and blue uniform—was a very impressive figure. Next to him was Falcon, wearing a high-tech flight suit that, when activated, allowed him to fly with holographic wings. Both heroes stood at attention on board S.H.I.E.L.D.’s massive Helicarrier—part aircraft carrier, part helicopter, and all state of the art. The ability of this futuristic vessel to fly unseen above Manhattan still impressed Steve.

“Gentlemen,” the eye-patch-wearing Fury began as he called up a digital HUD. “Within the last three weeks, reports of missing persons around the tristate area have more than tripled. Men and women, all between the ages of eighteen and thirty, all seemingly in perfect health and in top physical condition.”

“Think they’re all connected?” Cap asked.

“Stay alert” Fury said. “The kidnappings seem to be random, but S.H.I.E.L.D. intelligence tells me that there’s something bigger going on. I have several agents hard at work trying to figure out who is behind this, and why.”

“What’s our involvement?” Falcon asked.

“Right now, observe and report only. I want you up to speed for when we need to act,” Fury said.

As Cap and Falcon walked out of Fury’s office, the First Avenger felt disappointed.

He was looking forward to some action, not sitting on the sidelines. But before he could harp on the issue too long, Falcon gave him a nudge.

“Come on, Cap,” Falcon said. “We’re going to be late for the game. The Helicarrier is going up the East Coast and will be over the Bronx in two minutes—just enough time for us to change into less conspicuous clothing.”

Steve Rogers walked around Yankee Stadium in shock. There was music blasting, a huge TV, dozens of smaller TVs, various fancy restaurants and food stands, and even clothing shops.

“This certainly isn’t the House that Ruth built,” he said to Sam.

“You’re living in another time, man. Welcome to the twenty-first century, where everything is at your fingertips!” Sam said.

As they sat, Steve wondered why a music video kept playing on the jumbotron screen. “Oh, that’s one of the outfielders,” Sam said. “He has the number-three song in the country.”

“Babe Ruth and Joe DiMaggio never sang,” Steve said under his breath. “Isn’t anyone interested in the game anymore?”

But before Sam could respond, their S.H.I.E.L.D. emergency beacons started to blink. It was Fury. There was a team of college kids on the way to the game, but their bus had gone missing. S.H.I.E.L.D. intercepted the garbled 911 call, and Sam and Steve were being called in to respond.

They ran out of the stadium and stood before Steve’s vintage 1942 Harley-Davidson motorcycle. “You can’t be serious,” Sam said, referring to the battered and bruised cycle. “You could walk faster than that thing goes.” But Steve was already opening a large duffel bag to reveal his Captain America uniform and Vibranium shield.

“She hasn’t failed me yet,” Cap said with a smile. “Now suit up and hop on.”

“No way. I can fly. I’ll carry you,” Sam responded as his holographic hard-light wings began to form.

“Not a chance,” Steve said as he lowered his mask into position. He jumped on his bike and started it with a loud roar. Now THIS was Cap’s favorite pastime! adyRi9uKaA5yncNnToTDdKR2jAAIJYg9f4/eCay/PHYPhO889o8Um4ooY4XypUe/