Duty (An Armorer/Paladin Story)

Mission: accomplished

I got a call from Promotion to come pick up the stopgap suit, so I went up after lunch and tried it on for them. It was really comfortable; the jacket was linen, quilted in a vaguely floral pattern with a light inner layer, and the wide belt drew my waist in small. There was a thin protective padding over my shoulders and down the back to help cushion blows from behind. The pants had the same padding over the thighs. The mask turned out to be a weird polymer that clung to my face and followed my facial movement; it allowed expression but felt really creepy. I was given contact lenses in a variety of colors and told to wear them whenever my eyes weren't covered completely. I had a new, state of the art voice modulator to help keep my identity secret as long as possible. Then they stuck me in front of a green screen and pictures were taken, which flustered me a little. Hair down, in a French braid, up in a ponytail. Somebody was dispatched for my weapons, and I had to pose with them too. Marketing was still disgusted with the names, especially for the poleaxe. I was feeling pretty good about the new costume and the fact that none of the others (Tony) had shown up to heckle.

That was because they were waiting outside. I emerged, carrying my costume, to find Steve, Tony, and Bucky loitering outside the studio. "Great," Steve said with a smile. "Suit up. You're running the obstacle course with your weapons, then sparring with Bucky." I knew better than to say anything about bringing along Mr Pointy although I realized immediately that I needed some kind of carrying solution for it. I really didn't want to hear any more war stories about how he used to run the Army's course with a full pack and that was when he was still scrawny.

Tony smiled cheerfully. "I'm just here to laugh and point," he said. I gave Steve a long-suffering look for inflicting Tony on me and went to change.

The costume worked really well although I was going to add a snap or a hook and eye at neckline of the jacket as it opened farther the more I worked through the course. The boots had leather soles, which were a little slippery on the rocks, but the hard edges helped me scramble up the wall. Steve chided me for throwing Mr Pointy over the wall without checking if someone was on the other side. I patted my face with my sleeve.

"You're right here yelling at me to go faster, Bucky's behind me, and although I don't know where Tony is, if he doesn't have the sense to stand back when he knows I'm coming over, he deserves to be perforated," I said, panting a little. Tony's face poked around the wall and he strolled out, trying to be casual. Steve sighed a little bit, sent me up and over, gave me notes at the end of it, then had me do it again. Tony stayed well clear.

At the end, I patted Steve's shoulder and bent over to catch my breath. I had the feeling that he'd been taking it easy on me until now and that my workouts were about to become a lot harder. "Dogging my steps yelling at me to go faster and all might work in the Army, but I'm just finding it irritating, Steve. Demotivational. Just sayin," I gasped. He looked a little cross, perhaps worried a little that I'd stop in the middle of the course one day and refuse to go farther unless he let up.

He's a very smart man.

After that, Bucky came at me in the sparring ring; I recognized immediately that this wasn't the friendly practice we'd done to this point. I was facing the Winter Soldier, who had picked up how best to use the poleaxe almost effortlessly and who was really fucking scary. He scared me into going full tilt against him, giving everything I had, and it still wasn't enough. He landed a couple blows, one to my leg and one to my ribs that would have at least incapacitated me if not for my skin. The match ended when he used the hook on my ankle and I landed on my back in the dirt. In a flash, he had me pinned and a knife to my throat. We locked eyes, and I knew he wasn't going to let up until I was the best that I could be with my weapon of choice.

"Ok." I stared at him. "Kill me or let me up." He saw that I understood and even gave me a hand up. Then he ran through the things I did wrong. It took awhile.