Chapter 220: The True Leader

Boom!

The heavy doors burst open with a forceful kick, and a tall, commanding figure strode into the room. Light from the hallway framed the man, creating a silhouette that was instantly recognizable.

"Captain! The Captain is here to save us!"

The hostages, who had sunk into despair, cried out with newfound hope. Their eyes lit up at the sight of the iconic figure.

Captain America.

For decades, Steve Rogers had been a symbol of resilience and integrity. His exploits during the war years had inspired generations, and among the hostages were several who had grown up idolizing him. To them, his presence now was like a beacon in the storm.

Steve scanned the room quickly, taking in the situation. Hostages bound and helpless. Armed men standing guard. The air was heavy with tension. His gaze hardened as he addressed the mob leader.

"In a time of national crisis, when the country is on the brink of collapse, you choose to turn your guns on your own people instead of facing the real threats outside? Is this what you stand for?"

The mob leader smirked, his expression dripping with contempt. "So, it's the Captain himself," he sneered. "An old relic from seventy years ago, here to lecture me? You're a bit out of your depth, don't you think? If you're so great, why don't you go fight Wakanda? Oh, wait… I forgot—you're a wanted man now."

The mob leader's subordinates laughed mockingly, their weapons trained on Steve.

The leader gave a casual wave of his hand. "Take care of him."

With that, a group of armed men raised their guns and opened fire.

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Steve sighed, lifting his vibranium shield to block the incoming bullets. The shield absorbed the impacts effortlessly as he moved with precision. In a flash, he charged forward, disarming one thug with a quick twist and knocking another unconscious with a swift blow from the edge of his shield.

The hostages watched in awe. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, Captain America remained calm, his movements fluid and efficient. Though the attackers were well-trained and armed to the teeth, they were no match for his combination of skill, strength, and strategy. Within moments, most of them were incapacitated, groaning in pain on the ground.

"Trash!" the mob leader snarled, glaring at his fallen men.

But instead of retreating, the leader charged into the fray. He moved with surprising speed and strength, his punches landing with force that surpassed that of a normal human. Steve quickly realized that this man wasn't just any thug—he had combat training, and possibly enhancements.

Their fight was fierce, and for a moment, it seemed the leader might have the upper hand. But Steve's endurance and experience proved too much. With a final, well-timed strike, Steve sent the leader sprawling to the floor.

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As the battle ended, the hostages remained frozen in shock. Though victorious, Steve didn't relax. He cast a glance at the injured mob members, noting that none had been killed. The hostages' bodyguards, who had been overpowered earlier, were merely wounded and tied up.

"You're skilled," Steve said to the groaning leader. "You could've been a hero. You could've fought to protect people, instead of serving as the tools of corrupt politicians."

The leader, still on the ground, threw his head back and laughed—a deep, bitter laugh. "A hero? What a joke."

His voice dripped with derision as he looked up at Steve. "You think you're making a difference? You're nothing but a mascot, a relic from a bygone era. A spiritual leader that no one listens to anymore. The world's moved on, Captain."

The mob leader gestured to his remaining men. "Let's go. The Captain's still a wanted fugitive. He won't stay here for long."

The group stumbled toward the exit, leaving Steve and the hostages behind. Among the captives, a man named Underwood—a sharp-eyed leader of the People's Party—watched the scene intently. His expression was thoughtful, almost calculating.

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Outside, the fleeing mob met with their handlers in a shadowy alley. Ten middle-aged men in dark suits and sunglasses awaited them, their faces cold and unreadable.

"Was the mission a success?" one of the men asked. "Any suspicions?"

"None," the mob leader replied, his demeanor now calm and respectful. "The boss was right. As long as we didn't kill anyone, the Captain let us go."

The suited man nodded, his tone matter-of-fact. "Good. The plan must remain flawless. Here are your new identities. You'll receive the agreed payment and start fresh lives far away."

The mob members accepted their rewards eagerly, leaving with visible relief. As they disappeared into the shadows, the suited man turned toward a darker corner of the alley.

"Boss," he asked hesitantly, "if secrecy is so important, why not…?"

He made a slicing gesture across his neck.

A deep, gravelly voice answered from the shadows. "When people perform well, you reward them. Punish them only when necessary. If we killed everyone who did our dirty work, who would take the job next time?"

The figure in the shadows stepped forward slightly, revealing himself.

Kingpin.

His towering silhouette radiated authority and menace. "We're building something new here," he continued. "No more sloppy methods. We'll rule this game with precision."

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Back at the hotel, Steve released the hostages, carefully untying each one. "You're free to go," he said quietly. "But try not to gather in groups like this again. It only makes you targets."

The freed hostages expressed their gratitude, but one remained behind. Underwood, the People's Party leader, hesitated before stepping forward.

"You know," Underwood said, his tone wry, "he wasn't wrong. No one listens to you anymore, Captain. Even when you're right."

Steve paused, the words stinging more than he wanted to admit. He turned to face Underwood, frowning. "What are you trying to say?"

Underwood's gaze was intense. He seemed to wrestle with his thoughts before finally speaking.

"What I'm saying, Captain, is that you shouldn't settle for being just a symbol. You shouldn't be just a spiritual leader."

Steve's frown deepened. "And what do you propose?"

Underwood took a deep breath. "I mean… I think you should become our true leader."

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