The Red Soldier: Rise of the Red Soldier

ISSUE #14

'That absolutely stinks,' complained (Y/N) as he sat in the bathroom, a towel draped over his bare shoulders whilst Natasha Romanoff put a fresh colour on his hair. She'd been doing their hair for the year, and now that they were about to cross another international border, it was time for touch ups. He'd had every colour under the sun put on his head by this point: blue, green, purple, Natasha had even bleached it once, like hers, but he didn't like the way that it had burned his head.

'Stop moaning,' Natasha told him, hitting him gently on the top of the head with her paintbrush, 'if you just stopped shaving like Steve.'

'Ouch,' he spat, shivering as the dye dripped down the back of his neck, 'I'm going to have a red neck now. And I've told you it itches!' He wriggled beneath the towel, trying to wipe his neck before it was stained.

'And ears if you don't sit still,' Natasha warned, holding his shoulders in place before finishing off the job. Once he'd waited for a half hour, he got on his hands and knees and bent his head over the bathtub in their dingy hotel room. 'Is it too hot?' Nat asked. (Y/N) shook his head, afraid that if he parted his lips to speak, he'd get a mouthful of water. Romanoff handed him a towel to dry his hair, 'you suit it,' she said, smiling as she looked at him.

(Y/N) (L/N) turned around and looked into the mirror above the bathroom sink. She had done a good job, there was only a small part behind his ears where the colour had stained his skin. 'Thanks Nat,' he told her, running a hand through his damp hair.

Over the past twelve months he'd grown very fond of the Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff was there for him in the early mornings when he'd wake up shaking from nightmares, she would bring him a mug of warm milk and calm him down by stroking his hair; on the nights when he'd miss Bucky and drink himself into oblivion she'd help him into bed and give him medicine to prevent an ensuing hangover.

(Y/N) dressed himself in the clothes Howard Stark had made for him. When he'd first adorned the uniform again, it had hung off of his shoulders, drowning him. Now though, that he'd been eating at least two meals a day, the clothes fit him properly. 'Looking smart (L/N),' Sam commented when they met at the cars, 'red this time, interesting choice.'

'I think he suits it,' Wanda smiled towards him, jumping down from the car bonnet she sat on.

'Are we going then?' (Y/N) asked the team as he fiddled with the car keys in his hands. They'd been tracking a drug cartel through the Czech Republic for the past month, disabling the distribution sites and using the information they'd find to locate others. Now they had enough information to pinpoint the manufacturer, who lived out in the middle of nowhere between Plzen and Klatovy. Once they'd incapacitated the man who was manufacturing the methamphetamine, and whatever associates he had with him, they were leaving. Wanda had a weekend planned in Fethiye, Turkey, with The Vision, and so that's where they were heading once they'd finished their mission.

Dr (L/N) had never even heard of methamphetamine until the series of missions began. He'd dedicated his last few months of university studying opioids for his dissertation, and the effects they had on the human body. But methamphetamines had never been a part of his research. According to the journals Wanda had found for him on the interweb, the drugs had been legal until the seventies. (Y/N) was surprised by that. He didn't understand how something so dangerous could have been legal.

Steve landed the plane a few miles away from the target in the middle of a meadow. (Y/N) found himself distracted by the flowers, the roses in particular. There were so many colours. All of them were perfectly shaped. He bent down, rubbing the petals between his thumb and forefinger, unintentionally pricking himself on one of the thorns.