New York City’s Central Square, the War Heroes Memorial.
In front of the memorial, two stone statues of young men in battle attire stood tall. One held a sword, the other a shield, and they faced away from each other, gazing sternly and majestically ahead.
As night fell, the lights cast upon the statues’ heads created an aura of sacredness.
A musical fountain was placed at the base of the statues. Set to the rhythm of modern war anthems, it rhythmically spewed water, evoking an inspiring and stirring atmosphere.
Many white-collar workers, tourists from out of town, and families with children gathered in small groups around the statues. They looked up in awe, admiring the heroic figures.
The two tall young men, somewhat inconspicuous, lowered their duckbill caps.
They carefully maneuvered through the crowd and entered the memorial following the steady stream of visitors.
“Why did I come here to watch propaganda and commemorate my own war heroics?” Kyle couldn’t help but feel bored as he walked into the crowd. He glanced at Steve, who was seemingly enthusiastic and sighed inwardly, following him into the memorial.
Inside the corridors of the memorial, the walls on both sides were embedded with screens that continuously played World War II propaganda clips. There was footage of the sword-wielding youth in black battle attire and the shield-bearing youth in tight blue pants, who, as protagonists, led the charge and controlled the battlefield, ultimately dominating the war effort.
“This place isn’t really suited for me…” Kyle mumbled to himself, keeping his cap low to avoid being recognized.
As he watched his own propaganda film, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of embarrassment.
Steve, on the other hand, watched with keen interest. He was amazed by the colorful modern videos, and his eyes frequently displayed wonder as he embraced this new aspect of the world.
In one corner of an exhibition hall, there was a lively crowd of visitors gathered around. A video was playing, showing a young photo of Kyle. A voiceover with an earnest tone narrated:
“Steve Rogers, before receiving the serum, weighed 95 pounds and stood at five feet four inches tall. Due to various health issues, he was rejected from military service multiple times. After receiving the serum, his weight increased to 240 pounds, and he grew to a height of six feet two inches…”
“Kyle, they’re talking about me over there,” Steve smiled and whispered to Kyle.
Kyle nodded in acknowledgment, and the voiceover continued, “Steve Rogers was selected to participate in an unprecedented project during World War II. He became the world’s first Super-Soldier, rescuing thousands of captured soldiers on his very first mission. He is Captain America, the legendary hero who dismantled the Hydra organization, saved the world, and is hailed as the symbol of justice for our nation.”
Steve’s eyes shone with pride. He patted Kyle’s shoulder, like a child who had just achieved something impressive. “How about that? I’m amazing, aren’t I?”
“Absolutely,” Kyle replied, unwilling to deflate his friend’s spirits, and gave him a thumbs-up.
Steve smiled, and the previous melancholy disappeared, his fist clenched with renewed vigor. At the very least, he now understood that although the road he had traveled was lonely and challenging, as long as the world recognized his actions as heroic, it was all worth it.
The two continued to explore the memorial. In another massive exhibition hall filled with dark-colored photos and videos, there were even model pendants of a single-handed sword.
Crowds of visitors encircled the exhibits.
“Kyle Doffer, after joining the base, quickly distinguished himself during training and became a shining star among the soldiers.”
“He is the youngest Major General in the United States and also the greatest war hero of World War II. Not only did he dismantle the Hydra organization, but he also dominated the battlefield in multiple major battles, saving the world and accelerating its return to peace. He is hailed as the Symbol of Peace in the modern era!”
The voiceover commentary echoed in the hall.
Steve attempted to force a smile and turned to Kyle, who seemed indifferent, “Why do I feel like you’ve overshadowed me?”
“You’re overthinking it,” Kyle replied, patting Steve on the shoulder in an attempt to console him.
Inside the War Memorial, there were photos of significant figures from the past, such as the Strategic Science Division and the Howling Commandos.
Kyle and Steve strolled around as if paying their respects to their vanished youth, the era gradually fading away and buried in the annals of history.
“In the 21st century, peacetime is truly wonderful,” Steve sighed softly as they reached the end of their tour.
“In the future, you might not think that way,” Kyle shook his head, speaking in a somber tone. “Once this world gets cleaned up and becomes orderly, many people will want to disrupt it.”
Steve fell silent and looked at a photo of Peggy on the wall before turning and gesturing, “Let’s go; it’s time to leave.”
Kyle nodded, and the two of them exited the memorial.
As they reached a corridor near the entrance, a cacophony of screams erupted from outside the doors. People hurriedly flowed back into the memorial, like they were being herded inside.
“What’s going on?” A man near the exit exclaimed, trying to leave.
“Shut your mouth!”
The response came from several men outside the door, and they were using rough language.
The man who had wanted to leave was about to say something, but a deafening gunshot rang out, causing his face to pale, and he hastily retreated.
“Is this… a robbery?” Steve asked in surprise, finally understanding the meaning behind Kyle’s earlier words.
“It seems that way,” Kyle replied, exasperated.
It was as if New York, the city of sin, lived up to its reputation. However, attempting to rob a war memorial… One had to wonder if the criminal mastermind had a few screws loose in their head. Or perhaps, as in hero movies, the hero’s aura attracted criminals by default.
The two of them stood in the middle of the corridor near the entrance, as still as iron pillars. The terrified visitors rushed past them and sought refuge in the memorial’s main hall.
“Everyone get inside!”
Five men dressed in black with hoods, each holding firearms, herded the visitors into the main hall and sealed the entrance to the memorial.
The leader of the gang stood in the corridor, surveyed the crowd, and shouted harshly, “Hands on your heads, get down, and surrender your valuables one by one!”
Before he could finish speaking, the visitors had collectively cowered in fear, and in an instant, only two young men remained standing in the middle.
“Do you two want to get yourselves killed?” The gang leader raised an eyebrow and pointed his gun.
But the two men paid him no attention, engaged in their hushed discussion.
“Should I do it, or would you like to?” Kyle asked, his hands still in his pockets, in a bored tone.
“Let me do it. I’ve been lying around for a while; it’s time to stretch my muscles,” Steve shrugged.
“Don’t force me…”
Before the gang leader could finish his sentence, Steve sprang into action. With a swift sprint, he closed the distance to the gang leader, who reacted by instinctively placing his finger on the trigger to shoot.
But Steve was clearly faster. He bent down and swiftly approached the gang leader from below, grasping the barrel of the gun and bending it upward. Simultaneously, he gripped the gang leader’s wrist, twisting it into a pretzel shape.
A gunshot rang out, shattering a lightbulb on the hall’s ceiling.
The gang leader’s scream was still stuck in his throat when Steve completed his move, flipping the leader’s body 180 degrees. The man’s head slammed forcefully into the polished floor.
“Not a bad move,” Kyle commented, but then let out a sleepy yawn.
Chapter End.
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