Then again, who knows? Maybe you're being extra sneaky.

<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>

Me at the end of the season:

<Snipped quote by HenryJonesJr>

Cyborg Doakes

Hey, is anyone planning on using Wade Eiling along with Captain Atom?

I had some ideas to bring other former Charlton characters into the game as supporting NPCs, but Captain Atom wouldn't mesh well with the Question so I was planning on leaving him out.

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

S T E V E R O G E R S

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^{_{♦ ...S T E V E N G R A N T R O G E R S...♦...V E T E R A N / R E T I R E E / L I V I N G L E G E N D...♦...
...W H E A T O N , N E W J E R S E Y... ♦ ...( F O R M E R L Y ) S . H . I . E . L . D ... ♦}}

Normandy, June 1944 - D-Day

The humidity of a hard-fought battle finally gives way to the smell of gunpowder. Corpses of both allies and enemies line the sands of the beach. Distant gunfire and bombs pop off, filling the air with a metaphorical symphony of cataclysm. For the soldiers that stand, the hope is that it's the cataclysm of German forces and their stranglehold on the area. For those that want to go home, see their families again, and put aside the ever-looming threat of a violent end in service of a greater sacrifice. But for the man standing on the hill, just overlooking the parameter that leads directly from Omaha Beach into the Nazi-occupied city of Bayeux, the hope is that his men come back with good - hell, any news about the subsequent strike against Erwin Rommell's forces. Commanding the 107th battalion, the figure clutching at the hunk of metal strapped to his wrist had ordered that his personal strike team go ahead without him as he personally dispatched six enemy tanks that were flanking every direction. And yet Captain America's primary concern, amongst the dead and barely living, was that he hadn't made a grave error in sending these hundreds of an overall twenty-four thousand man operation directly into Hitler's clutches.

"Come on, Buck.", he silently whispered. "Don't do this to us. Not today, not now."

Five agonizing minutes went by without so much as a shot, signaling a change of course in the battle. Placing his battle-worn helmet atop his leather cowl, the Captain had finally ran out of patience. Of the many still stationed to watch the coast, Rogers counted fifteen who weren't visibly damaged or cut apart by enemy minutes. He'd need more to truly be able to breach the Nazi's wall and get into Bayeux to find his Howling Commandos - or what was left of them, at least - before it was too late, but he didn't see waiting as a viable option anymore. The wounded were being treated to, as were the dead. His job on this front of the war was finished. Now it seemed that a rescue op was in order. In an effortless motion, he removed the shield clinging onto his gauntlet and placed it on the satchel attached to his back. For the men below, it was an awe-inspiring sight. Even with the colors muted from a bright red, white, and blue into a virtually maroon, gray, and black uniform, Captain America still looked uncharacteristically fictional among the very grim reality that surrounded him. Like something out of the pictures or the pulps had sprung forth into their reality.

"Corporal?"

Turning his head as an armed soldier approached his six.

"Tell the others to gear up and prep for a run. We're going after the missing."

The color from the soldier's face nearly cascaded out of existence. But over the past few months, the man had grown to know better than to question a direct order from the man who was almost assuredly going to drive his fist through Hitler's jaw.

"Consider it done, sir."

Emptying the magazine from his side-arm, Captain Rogers removed another clip and placed it into the chamber. He had already practically spent every ounce of his super-soldier serum given strength and agility to take out those tanks, and yet any hesitation to head back into battle never appeared in his mind. But even he knew that there was a chance that this could be their last stand. His enhancements gave him a clear edge, but he wasn't invincible - at least, literally speaking. He could never tell that to the men who stood even less of a chance surviving the through the day.

"We charge for the city walls in..."

A deafening explosion knocked several of the soldiers off of their feet, as Captain America found himself interrupted. He turned, shield raised, to the North and braced for something to hit. An enemy band of troops sent to scout for survivors. German planes looking to incinerate the shores. At this rate, Rogers was half-expecting some metal monstrosity straight out of the adventure books he read as a child to emerge, with big claws and a beam from outer space.

Instead, he lowered the shield upon hearing his own troops begin to cheer. Cap looked again to the North, watching as a German tower crumbled onto itself like a sandcastle on the very beach beneath his feet. Brick and dust shot out of the side of it followed by a gust of fire. Steve could hardly believe his eyes, but the grin on his face was no less visible.

"THEY DID IT!", one of them cried. "SON OF A GUN, THEY ACTUALLY KICKED THAT GERMAN'S TAIL!"

This was the sign that Bucky had told him they'd give upon victory. They were alive.

How many, of course, was yet to be determined. But they were alive.

And that meant that they were going to see another fight, bringing the War even closer to the finish line.

"At ease, soldiers!", Cap shouted, looking over his shoulder. "Lieutenant Barnes and his fleet have done the hard work. Now it's up to use to clean up the mess. So let's make sure that bastard Rommell never sees the light of day!"

The soldiers gave an even louder cheer, raising their guns as they ran forth to join Captain America while he marched ahead.

He felt a hand clasp onto his shoulder, forcing him to stop.

"Captain?"

Steve spun around, seeing a familiar face greet him. But he felt the pit of his stomach immediately turn, and the hairs of the back of his neck stand on end. The figure that stood infront of him was familiar, sure, but it was one that didn't belong. The face of a blonde, hazel-eyed woman that smiled back him. A person that had never been alive in the year 1944. And one that he would never see again after 2019.

"God..."

Cap removed his helmet, his eyes widened in fear.

"Sharon?"

Sharon Carter evaporated just as quickly as she appeared, torn apart yet again by Zemo's horrid machine. Steve reached out, realizing that he had failed to grab onto her a second time. His heart stopped, and he immediately became aware of his surroundings. He wasn't in 1944, and this wasn't D-Day. As he looked back at the soldiers heading into battle, they began to evaporate too. Leaving him alone with their ghosts.

"You shouldn't have let them die."

Sharon's voice was no longer tangible as human. It was all around him. In the skies above him, in the sands. Even the seas seemed to bellow out with disgust, as Steve dropped his shield into the mud. He dropped to his knees, closing his eyes and realizing that he was hyperventilating.

"You shouldn't have let me die."

It felt as if his asthma was back. Only a thousand times worse, as though his lungs were made of lead.

"But that's all that Captain America ever was, wasn't it?"

"No..."

Steve clutched at both sides of his head, Sharon's voice becoming illuminated even further by the sudden return of the ambience of a destructive conflict.

"A harbinger of death, painted up as a symbol."

The Captain fell onto his side, trying his best to block out the voice.

"Stop..."

But it wouldn't leave.

"Please... stop..."

It would never leave.

"You failed us all."