Sloan Rogers was the fraternal twin brother of Steve Rogers. But unlike his brother, he was born different, a mutant.
While growing up, he had to watch as his brother suffered with his health and size. Meanwhile, Sloan was in perfect shape, and more...
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If I can't help
。.✦ ☾
Sloan enters his home, later that night. Eyes covered with his sunglasses, peering at the empty home. Letting his shadows free, making sure there weren't any unwanted guests.
Once he knew his home was clear of any gods, he stepped further down the long hall.
He needed to start packing for this shield mission. He finally enters his home office and he grabs a duffel bag from within the bottom cabinet near the entrance.
He slams the bag down on his desk before rounding the table, approaching the tall bookshelf, carefully pulling back a false book, and watching as it opened to a large safe. He enters the passcode, hearing the soft hiss as the door slides open.
Inside were guns, jewelry, files, and stacks of money. He grabs the guns first, admiring the dark body of the lethal weapon before stacking it onto the duffle bag. He hums softly as he grazes the stacks of money before grabbing a file, he opens it carefully.
Within kept secrets he had well kept and he walks towards his shredder, letting the blades eat up at the file. He had it all memorized, he no longer needed physical copies, it was too dangerous, especially without him there to protect it. He watches as a picture slips, fluttering to the ground and he bends down to pick it up.
Dark eyes stare back at him.
A black and white photo of James in his uniform, perfectly groomed and handsome. Sloan ignores the small sting of longing before pocketing it.
He turns back and he continues to shred whatever documents he didn't want getting in the wrong hands, leaving a few things for Roberta in case of his untimely death.
He was entering a war, one he didn't know he'd survive this time.
....
Sloan enters his garage and he makes his way towards a vintage vehicle, a favorite of his and he slows when he spots something on the windshield. Sloan slows and he lowers his bag to the floor, reaching over and grabbing the small business card.
The front was blank. He hums and he turns it to the back, coordinates.
