Green Beret | MCU (On Hold)

CHAPTER 1

2014

Washington D.C. was shrouded in a fading morning fog, the pale sunlight slicing through its veil like quiet promise. The air was cool and damp, clinging to Captain Troyton Kemp's skin as he jogged steadily down the tree-lined streets. There was peace in this hour—before the capital truly woke, before the weight of missions and secrets returned to his shoulders. He could breathe here.

Since being reassigned to a base near D.C., Troy had settled back into his old apartment. Nick Fury's directive was clear: stay close to Rogers, Romanoff, and Barton. So he did. Between briefings and off-the-books operations, he found solace in early morning runs—a soldier's meditation.

His route took him past familiar landmarks until the Washington Monument came into view, piercing the sky like a relic of better days. Troy's breath fogged as he rounded the monument, catching sight of a figure ahead—powerful stride, rigid posture.

"Steve," Troy called, pulling up alongside.

Steve Rogers turned to him with a warm, almost boyish smile. "Troy."

Troy grunted. "Too damn early to be this cheerful."

Steve chuckled. "Ready to run?"

"You mean me going the same pace as I am now while you lap me 50,000 times? Sure."

With that, they both picked up the pace. Within minutes, Steve passed him. Twice.

"On your left!" Steve called out as he blew past another man jogging ahead of them.

"Come on!" the man exclaimed, trying and failing to keep up before leaning against a nearby tree to catch his breath.

As Troy jogged past, recognition clicked. "Sam Wilson?" he said, slowing to a stop. "Air Force, right?"

The man blinked, chest heaving. "Captain Kemp?" He smiled. "Well, I'll be damned."

Steve circled back, curious. "You two know each other?"

"Yeah," Sam said, shaking Steve's hand first. "Troy led a few missions with my team."

"58th, Pararescue," Troy added with a nod.

"Was," Sam corrected. "Now I'm at the VA."

"How you doing, Captain Kemp?"

"Just Troy now," he replied casually.

"You out of the Army?"

"Transferred, technically. To a super-secret agency."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were Army?"

"I was. But I've got Navy, Marine, and Air Force training too. Spent more time deployed than at my apartment."

"Can't believe the Army let you go," Sam said, shaking his head. "Best soldier in American military history, and they let you go." He glanced at Steve. "No offense."

Troy rolled his eyes. "Hardly that. All I've ever wanted is to be a good man."

"You are," Steve said softly, meeting Troy's gaze.

Steve turned back to Sam. "What's your name again?"

"Sam Wilson."

"Steve Rogers."

"Yeah, I kind of put that together," Sam chuckled. "Must've freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing."

"It takes some getting used to," Steve said. "It's good to meet you, Sam."

"It's your bed, right?" Sam asked.

"What's that?"

"Your bed, it's too soft. When I was over there I'd sleep on the ground, use rocks for pillows. No doubt Troy did too—like cavemen. Now I'm home, lying in my bed, and it's like..."