The next few weeks marked a turning point in the European campaign. Rayn, now a commander in both name and presence, led one successful operation after another. Villages freed, supply lines severed, and Axis footholds reduced to rubble—his strategies were becoming textbook examples for Allied military tacticians.
Yet, Rayn stayed grounded.
He didn't let rank or praise change his demeanor. He still walked among his soldiers, still sat with the wounded in field tents, still mapped battle plans in the mud beside his men. His strength and intelligence were extraordinary, but it was his leadership—calm, decisive, empathetic—that made men follow him even into hell.
But war, as it always does, escalated.
---
On the southern front, Allied forces were collapsing under Axis pressure near the Rhine River. A vital bridge was on the brink of destruction. If the Axis succeeded in blowing it, they would cut off thousands of Allied troops and gain an unbreakable hold on the region.
Command needed someone who could change the outcome.
Someone impossible.
So, they called Rayn.
---
The journey to the Rhine took two days, with Rayn flying in on a cargo plane modified for stealth. As he sat inside the hold, reviewing aerial recon photos, one of the younger officers approached nervously.
"Commander Rayn, sir. It's… an honor."
Rayn glanced up. "You've flown before?"
"Only once. Not into combat."
Rayn offered a calm nod. "Stay close to me when we land. We move fast. No room for error."
The officer nodded, gulping hard.
Rayn's presence always had that effect on newcomers.
He didn't speak of fear or courage—he embodied focus.
---
They landed under heavy flak.
The moment Rayn stepped out, chaos surrounded him—machine guns rattling, soldiers shouting, medics hauling stretchers through the mud. But his eyes were locked on the bridge. It was rigged with charges, already prepped for detonation.
He turned to the field commander. "How many Axis troops on the other side?"
"Two battalions. Trenched in deep."
"And defenses?"
"Mortars, snipers, three Panzer tanks."
Rayn's mind raced. Three tanks meant he couldn't risk a full charge. Not with so many lives at stake. But if he waited, the bridge would be gone.
He opened his map, then spoke with steel in his voice.
"I'll lead a strike team across the river. We take the bridge from behind."
"But how—"
"There's a hidden crossing here," he said, pointing at a shallow bend in the river just northeast. "If we go now, under cover of the smoke, we'll be on them before they can trigger the charges."
The commander hesitated, then saluted. "It's your op now, sir."
---
What followed would become known as "The Midnight Flank."
Rayn's squad moved fast through knee-deep water, keeping low in the early dawn mist. Once across, they ascended a hill behind the Axis defenses. From there, Rayn coordinated a pincer attack.
He used smoke grenades to blind the tanks, dispatched snipers to take out the enemy spotters, and charged through the fog like a shadow reborn in war.
His enhanced body was a blur of action. He disabled a Panzer by vaulting atop it and shoving an explosive into the hatch. He signaled silently to his squad, each move synchronized with machine precision.
By the time the Axis soldiers realized what was happening, their flank had collapsed.
And the charges on the bridge?
Disarmed by Rayn himself—seconds before detonation.
---
The bridge held.
The Allied forces crossed.
And Rayn walked back through the smoke with twenty men behind him—none left behind.
For the troops stationed on that front, it wasn't just a win.
It was a miracle.
---
Back at base later that week, reporters tried to get an interview.
Rayn declined.
Instead, he gave credit to his team, to the medics, to the engineers who kept their equipment running in the freezing mud.
He avoided cameras, and politely declined speaking at a war bond rally scheduled in London.
But one reporter caught him as he walked out of the command tent.
"Commander Rayn! Just one question—what keeps you going?"
Rayn paused.
He looked at the man for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
Then he said quietly, "I remember what happens when people don't fight."
And walked away.
---
Meanwhile, in London, Steve Rogers was about to experience his own turning point.
The USO had planned another tour—a musical in Italy, a comedy show in France. Steve had smiled through it all, saluted with pride, and shaken hands with admirers.
But his mind wasn't there.
It was back on the battlefield.
On Rayn.
On the war they were both supposed to fight together.
Then, on one fateful day, he met Peggy Carter again, and the course of his life began to shift.