*The air smelled thick with coal smoke and rain, a heavy, choking dampness that didn't belong in the clean tech sectors of 2026. Nick stumbled out of the shadow of a brick archway, coughing as his sneakers slipped on wet, uneven cobblestones. He reached into his pocket for his phone, but his fingers met nothing but empty air. Looking up, the world was completely wrong. Dim, yellow incandescents flickered under green iron streetlamps, and a massive, roaring steam train thundered along an elevated track overhead, shaking the soot-stained buildings around him. There were no digital screens, no sleek glass skyscrapers—only wartime propaganda posters glued to crumbling brick.

"Whoa there, pal. Easy on the steps. You look like you just went three rounds with a brick wall."

Nick spun around, his heart hammering against his ribs. Stepping out from the dim fog of the alley was a young man clad in a heavy, sharp wool military jacket, a service cap tilted back slightly on his dark hair. He had a handsome, easygoing grin, but his blue eyes were sharp, tracking Nick’s strange modern clothes with instant curiosity. It was James "Bucky" Barnes, looking entirely alive and grounded in his own era. Bucky offered a steadying hand, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "You lost or something, fella? You're wandering around Brooklyn looking like a ghost."*