'Captain America: The Shield of Sam Wilson' Features 13 Original Short Stories Inspired by the Marvel Comics Universe

This January, Sam Wilson picks up the shield in thirteen new subversive, exciting, and uplifting short stories compiled in Captain America: The Shield of Sam Wilson. From Titan Books, this anthology novel features original stories by Maurice Broaddus, Jesse J. Holland, Gar Anthony Haywood, Nicole Givens Kurtz, Kyoko M., Sheree Renee Thomas, Gary Phillips, Danian Jerry, Gloria J. Browne Marshall, Glenn Parris, Christopher Chambers, Alex Simmons.

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE SHIELD OF SAM WILSON
ISBN: 978-1803363875
Edited by Jesse J. Holland
Hardback | 336 pages
Available on January 14, 2025
$27.99

As a Black man in America, Sam Wilson knows he has to be twice as good to get half as much credit. He must be a paragon of virtue for a nation that has mixed feelings towards him. In these thirteen brand-new stories, the all-new Captain America must thwart an insurrectionist plot, travel back in time, foil a racist conspiracy, and save the world over and over again.

As the Falcon, Sam Wilson was the first African American super hero in mainstream comic books. Sam’s trials and tribulations reflect the struggles many Black Americans go through today, as Sam balances fighting supervillains and saving the world with the difficulties of being the first Black Captain America. This action-packed anthology inspired by the Marvel comic book universe, will see Sam team up with familiar friends like Steve Rogers, Redwing and Nomad, while fighting HYDRA, Sabretooth, Kingpin, and other infamous villains.

These are stories of death-defying courage, Black love and self-discovery. These are the stories of a super hero learning what it means to be a symbol. These are the stories of Sam Wilson.

Eager readers can get a first look at Captain America’s new adventures in the excerpt below from “Lost Cause,” a short story by Kyoko M.

Samuel Thomas Wilson knew how to make an entrance.

It was a scorching-hot day in Colorado. It felt like the sun was trying to cook him sunny-side up as he rounded the last turn that put the Pueblo Memorial Airport firmly within his sights. He’d already been cleared to land by the faithful ground-control staff, spotting his final destination through the heads-up display in his goggles. When he reached the last leg of the flight, he let his body naturally straighten out for wind resistance and righted himself to land on his feet in front of the prison bus and the small throng of people waiting
on his arrival.

The first man he spotted was one he knew all too well: a bald middle-aged Black man with perfectly straight posture, his leather duster flapping in the wind every so often, a black patch over one eye, the rest of his attire all black as well. He had a gun on his hip and a no-nonsense look on his face, though Sam knew S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Nick Fury had an actual sense of humor when he felt like it.

The second man was tall and lithe, wearing a white button-down shirt, jeans, and brown cowboy boots with a light blue sport coat over the ensemble. A shiny silver star winked out at Sam on the approach, proclaiming him to be a U.S. Marshal. He had brown hair and a goatee, his blue eyes sharp and observant as they watched Sam descend.

The last person on the tarmac was a Black woman with her hair in a bun, dressed in the uniform of the very institution he’d be supporting today—the USP Florence ADX, aka a federal supermax prison from which no convict had ever escaped.

Not yet, anyway.

Sam’s boots touched down a few feet from his welcoming committee, a broad grin on his lips as he stepped forward and offered his hand to Nick Fury. “Morning, sir.”

Fury offered a small but genuine smile as he shook it. “Morning, Cap. Nice flight in from the hotel, I see?”

“Except for this heat,” Sam agreed. “I know Harlem gets hot in the summer, but man. This is something else. Not used to this Midwest heat.”

“We’ll make sure you don’t melt,” the marshal said with an easy smirk, offering his hand. “Marshal Franklin David Robertson, sir. Call me FDR. Good to meet you.”

“Same to you.”

“I’m Alcina Cirillo,” the Black woman said, shaking Sam’s hand as well. “I’m the ringleader for this veritable circus.”

“Good to meet you, ma’am.” Sam turned to the direction the group was facing to size things up. There was a small plane already on the tarmac with the inmates being transferred from the Raft to ADX for their permanent new digs. There had recently been a prison break perpetrated by the super villain Shocker, meaning that most of the Raft’s security was now compromised, and it would be weeks or months before it could be restored.

“What’s the final head count?” Sam asked.

“Six prisoners,” Alcina said. “We tried to keep it small to lessen the work. And the hot tamale himself has a habit of converting people into his corner, so the fewer, the better.”

Sam’s brown eyes narrowed as he caught sight of said hot tamale exiting the airplane. He was a man of insurmountable stature, seeming to tower over everyone not just with his height, but with his presence. Naturally, he wore a burgundy prison jumpsuit, his arms chained to his waist, his legs shackled to one another. He had brown eyes and a bald head, with small beads of sweat falling forward onto his forehead. A shark’s grin formed on his lips as the four guards walked the six criminals toward the bus.

“Well, if it ain’t Discount Captain America,” Brock Rumlow aka Crossbones said, his beady eyes beaming down unpleasantness. “How’s it going, sucker?”

“Even my worst day is better than your best, smart-mouth,” Sam replied with a cool, unbothered look.

“Don’t worry,” Fury said, tucking his hands in his pockets. “That smart mouth won’t be so smart after he gets a load of his new digs.”

Rumlow shrugged. “Iso ain’t bad. I’ve had worse.”

“That’s what you think.” Fury showed his teeth.

Rumlow gestured to Alcina. “Who’s the babe?”

“Your new best friend,” Alcina smiled, removing her night stick and pointing to the bus.

Rumlow licked his lips and winked. “I like the sound of that.” He then turned and started to shuffle for the bus.

Sam shook his head. “Good to know he’s still as charming as ever.”

The small group chuckled. Alcina gestured to the four guards, all white men forty or older dressed in identical guard uniforms. The shortest stood at the end. He had blond curls and blue eyes, freckles dotting his nose. The one beside him was over six feet tall with his sandy-colored hair in a buzzcut, his eyes a rare shade of green. The third man was heavyset with brown hair and brown eyes. The last man was average height and weight, shaved bald, with dark blue eyes. “These are my men that will be backing you up.”

She started from the left. “Robert Pettengill, Quentin Bell, Matthew Collins, and Justin Brandt.”

Sam nodded to them respectfully and they nodded back. He gestured to Pettengill—who, like all the other guards, had a semiautomatic rifle strapped to his back. “I thought prison protocol was for non-lethal weapons?”

“We were given the go-ahead for a little more firepower considering the circumstances,” he replied. “It’s Rumlow.”

“You’re not wrong. Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that point. Thanks, fellas.”

With that, they went back over to the bus to make sure the inmates filed in.

“What’s the word on the distance we’re covering?” Sam continued.

Fury pulled out a tablet and tapped a few things, showing him the highlighted route. “It should be a forty-five minute drive. The perimeter will be monitored by S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel using drones; they’re small enough to avoid most detection by any party crashers and they’ll ping you if there’s incoming.”

Sam turned to the marshal. “What kind of resources do we have if there’s an attack?”

“We can call in a chopper for backup if things get hairy. There will be Fremont County SWAT officers on said chopper.”

“Roger that. What’s the last thing we heard from our intel?”

Fury sighed. “That’s the trouble. We caught word of a jail break, but S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t able to narrow down a source. There are plenty of people who want Rumlow out, starting with the Red Skull and working through a lot of the criminal underbelly. The guy’s a valuable mercenary and so having him loose benefits too many entities stateside for us to give you a dossier on who might be the culprit. We have to assume any hostile force that’s used Rumlow before could be on their way.”

Sam whistled. “That’s an ugly thought. If I had to guess, though, I’d agree that Red Skull would want Rumlow bad enough to cross swords with us. Baron Zemo or Taskmaster might too. They’ve got the best toys, enough men to make it a successful jailbreak, and the motivation to git ’er done. I’ve crossed paths with them enough to know this is a golden opportunity they won’t want to miss. I read the file on our perps, but there is one last thing I want to ask.”

He turned to Alcina. “Our other five prisoners… I’ve read their rap sheets and psych profiles, but you’ve spent time among supermax convicts. I want your perspective on the other prisoners we’re transporting.”

Alcina blinked in surprise. “Hmm… well, ADX Florence is reserved for basically two kinds of criminals: the truly violent lost causes and the high-profile criminals that the authorities want to make absolutely sure never see the light of day again. It houses mostly terrorists and men too dangerous to be sent anywhere else, as well as those who sold U.S. secrets. Our other five prisoners consist of two bombing terrorists, an ex-C.I.A. officer, a serial killer, and a former Mexican cartel enforcer.”

She peered at the bus, pausing in thought. “Their mentalities are certainly mixed. I would say of the five, the one most likely to gravitate toward Rumlow would be the serial killer, Wayne Clayton. Clayton has yet to make any escape attempts, but he hasn’t displayed any psychological indications that he accepts his fate. I think he’s biding his time, waiting for a chance to strike.”

“Meaning we’ve got our work cut out for us,” FDR said with a sigh. “We can expect non-compliance if someone does attack the bus.”

“If given the opportunity, do you think all five would try to bail if someone hits the bus to get Rumlow out?” Fury asked.

Alcina nodded. “They may not think they’d get far, but I think all five would take the chance.”

Fury regarded Sam seriously. “Then you make sure you watch your back, brotha.”

Sam grinned. “Already got that covered.”

He whistled again—but a short, loud blast this time. A moment later, a shadow cast itself over the group. They squinted into the blue sky as they spotted a falcon circling above, then descending like a torpedo. His wings opened at the last second and then he landed neatly on Sam’s left shoulder, cocking his head as he observed the newcomers. “Redwing’s ready to rock and roll.”

FDR glanced at the others, mystified. “Uh, how’s a falcon gonna help?”

Sam lightly petted the front of Redwing’s feathers. “We have a special bond.”

FDR grinned. “Oh my God—are you like Ant-Man, but for birds?”

Sam shrugged, slightly miffed at the comparison to the tiny hero. “More or less.”

“I can’t believe that rumor is true. This is amazing. Just wait ’til my kid hears.”

“Text him. We’ve gotta get moving.” Alcina shook Fury’s hand and nodded to him, then raised her voice. “Let’s get this show on the road, boys!”

The other guards filed into the bus, with Alcina and FDR bringing up the rear. Fury shook Sam’s hand a last time. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Fury. We’ll keep you apprised.” Sam stepped back and nodded to Redwing, who took flight first, then he followed. The bus coughed itself to life on the tarmac and then began to follow the signs and directions from the flight crew to exit Pueblo Memorial Airport and enter the forty-five-minute route to ADX Florence.

 

For the first fifteen minutes of the ride, everything was fine.

Sam had the video feed from Fury’s drones cast into his goggles’ heads-up display to keep an eye on the perimeter. Redwing had gone up to a higher altitude, letting Sam see through his eyes that it was all-clear for now. Sam had a comm-link to Alcina and FDR in the bus below and they’d told him everything looked normal from the ground level so far. They’d gone against the usual policy for a police escort in order to minimize how noticeable they’d be on the road.

Their surroundings, however, were the much larger problem. The route to ADX Florence wasn’t completely clear, it would have them passing by several smaller cities in the area. It left plenty of opportunities for enemies to camp out and spring a trap. The bulk of the drive would be spent on U.S.-50: a six-lane highway with a divider that would account for about half an hour of drive time. They’d already gone past modest houses and a few businesses, passing some empty fields and a train track that ran parallel to the highway.

At the sixteen-minute mark into the drive, Sam’s comm-link sparked to life. “Sam, it’s FDR.”

“Go ahead, marshal.”

“It may not be anything, but check Camera Four in your feed. I’m seeing some interference that looks suspicious.”

FDR and Alcina had live feeds to the drones as well, accessible from a tablet; a precaution in case Sam had to engage the enemy and couldn’t provide that information for them. He used the controls on the digital pad built into his right forearm to highlight Camera Four and bring the feed up.

The four drones formed a moving quadrant that followed the prison bus along, observing the general space along Highway U.S.-50, and Camera Four was south of them. When the feed filled the top corner of his vision, he could see why FDR flagged it as odd: the picture flickered every few seconds.

“What are the chances that’s just a random technology glitch caused by being in the middle of nowhere?”

FDR snorted. “Slim to none, Cap.”

“Yup, that’s what I thought. I’m calling Redwing to take my spot; I’ll go check it out.”

“Roger that. Be careful.”

Sam concentrated and reached out to Redwing via their telepathic link, and the falcon started to descend to Sam’s current altitude. Once Redwing arrived, Sam turned around and flew for Camera Four’s position bringing up the rear.

He slowed his flight to the same speed as the drone, then flipped upside down as he came within range. He let it fly above him and then checked the outside of the hull for anything suspicious.

And suspicious, he did find.

“There’s some kind of object on the bottom of Camera Four,” Sam told FDR and Alcina as he peered up at the bottom of the drone. “It’s mechanical and about the size of a silver dollar. Has a black interface covered with glass. Don’t see any numbers or identifying marks.”

“Crap,” Alcina hissed. “Someone’s probably tampering with it. We have to assume it might be compromised. I recommend we decommission it for now.”

“I can try removing it, but I don’t know what it’ll do. Might be worth the—” Sam fell silent as the previously blank face of the device acquired a red glow. Sam’s instincts and experience told him that was a bad sign. He boosted his flight suit to fly faster, away from it.

His instincts were right.

Camera Four exploded not three seconds later.

“Whoa!” FDR exclaimed. “Was that what I think it was?”

“Yep, the cat’s outta the bag,” Sam said, watching tiny pieces rain down on the pavement below. “We’re on, folks. Keep your eyes peeled. I’m gonna go check the other three cameras—”

Before he could finish the sentence, three explosions rocked the area simultaneously.

“All cameras down!” Sam shouted, twisting in the air to observe the gouts of smoke in the vicinity. “We’re officially under attack, people. Sweeping the area now with Redwing to find the culprit.”

Sam telepathically called to Redwing and the falcon joined him as they flew down to the top of the bus and then landed. Sam could overhear Alcina and FDR instructing the prisoners to keep their heads down and stay quiet as they tried to identify the threat.

Captain America: The Shield of Sam Wilson will be available wherever books are sold on January 14, 2025!