The Red Soldier: Captain America and the Red Soldier

ISSUE #24

Remy stared across the table at (Y/N) (L/N). Rather than fearing him, the beaten and bruised man sat opposite seemed intrigued, unlike his uncle who had somewhat kept his distance ever since he blew up the television remote a fortnight ago. He felt a little on edge now, wringing his hands together anxiously. 'Fine,' he eventually responded, picking up his playing cards and storing them in his trouser pocket, 'just not here.' Remy LeBeau stood up from his chair successfully now, and (L/N) soon followed, readjusting his sling before trailing behind him down the pier.

        When the pair reached the end, Remy sat down, the tips of his fingers aggressively picking at the splintered boards. (Y/N) soon followed suit, lowering himself down carefully, using the hand Remy offered him, and proceeding to cross his legs. The sun's glow had dimmed slightly, painting the horizon a relatively beautiful coral shade. He squinted beneath his glasses, staring out across the water, 'you must think I'm some sort of freak, no?'

        'Not at all,' (Y/N) shook his head, 'just never seen that sort of magic before.'

        Remy LeBeau let out a half-hearted laugh, sliding a playing card out of his pocket. His fingers rubbed against its glossy surface, soon resulting in a bright mauve burst as it ignited. 'That look like any sort of magic to you?' he asked.

        'It does actually,' nodded (Y/N).

        'I'm no sorcerer,' Remy told him, 'never learned no mystic arts, just woke up one morning, went to go brush my teeth and my toothbrush exploded in my hand. And then...' he drawled off midsentence, wondering whether or not he should continue disclosing such private information with a man he'd only met a few hours ago. 'What is it to you anyway?' he questioned, looking (Y/N) up and down.

        (L/N) stretched his healthy hand out in front of him, casually summoning a flaming red sphere in his palm, its smoky crimson tendrils chaotically orbiting his tensed fingers. It all became a lot clearer to him now; why (Y/N) (L/N) was so awfully wounded, why he expressed such interest in his affliction. His new friend wasn't a simple tourist, but an Avenger, a powerful one at that; he was probably down to visit Sam Wilson. Remy recalled watching news footage years ago of the man beside him practically laying waste to half of the Avengers.

        'You're an Avenger, aren't you,' he stated, 'I remember watching you on the news when they fought in Germany. You almost killed that War-Machine guy.'

        (Y/N) let out an indignant groan, 'that seems to be all I'm recognised for,' he complained, 'not for being a medical officer during the war, or for helping resurrect half the universe...'

        'My apologies,' Remy remarked politely, turning away once more. He could see why his comment might have vexed his new friend.

        'It's fine,' he shrugged, 'you were saying?'

        Remy LeBeau thought for a moment, trying to remember where he had left off. 'Oh, yeah,' he muttered, his fingers raising from the boards beside him and reaching towards the frames of his wayfarers. With shaking fingers he pulled them from his face, blinking harshly as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. When he finally opened his eyes and turned to face him the Avenger seemed puzzled. Rather than gawking, or shutting his own eyes in fear, (Y/N) (L/N) studied them, his (E/C) eyes darting between Remy's jet black sclera and ruby irises. 'You are not frightened?' he asked. When his uncle had first seen them he'd hid behind his open broadsheet and tossed him an old pair of Rey Bans.

        'No?' (Y/N) answered sympathetically, 'when did this happen?'

        He shrugged his shoulders, 'not so long after The Blip,' he replied forlornly, 'just sort of happened overnight.'