“What’s the second option?” Xander pleaded desperately.
“The second option,” Fury said calmly, “Is where you sign up for five years of service with S.H.I.E.L.D., and we make you the new face of the Ultimates.”
“...What?”
“It’s simple, kid,” Fury began to explain, “Y’see, Captain America, he’s a great symbol. Absolutely brilliant when you need an inspirational speech concerning patriotism-- or just about any other cause you can think of, actually-- the problem is that the guy sucks at conversation. He can’t go on a talk show, or speak to the media, and come off as likable to the public because he sounds like an old man, but lacks the wrinkles and arthritis to pull it off and make it look charming and endearing.”
“Isn’t he?” Xander asked, “I thought the papers said he was frozen since the forties?”
“He was. That’s the problem,” Fury groaned, “And Iron Man, don’t even get me started.”
“I thought Tony Stark was really good with the press?”
“Tony Stark is,” Fury agreed, “But Iron Man refuses to admit his true identity or talk to the public, even though there’s only about 5% of the population that doubts it. The drunk bastard just likes messing with people.”