Hold On Soldier ✔️ | marvel

28. Cold Shoulder

Before we're let off Nat tells me to stay in the car. Steve leaves with a polite wave and finally Nat speaks.

She starts, "Ok so are y'all together or what."

"Nat! What the hell!" My face turns bright red and I slap her from the backseat. "No!"

"It's been two years. You can't just tell me your parents always taught you to not trust anyone and when they died you really couldn't trust anyone anymore." She presses, "That excuse is invalid now."

"Harsh." I respond quickly, scooting toward the car door.

"Hey!" She screams, "Don't avoid the question bitch!"

I promise bashfully, "I don't like him."

Nat shakes her head, "Two years and I still hear lies." We both climb out of the car and make our way back to Steve. He's in his uniform and nods seriously at us both. Nat and I separate to change as well. Since the two years I've finally obtained a costume like the others. The day of the fight I wore torn up pastel greens blues and white combinations with boots. Since then I've been called the "Cold Shoulder." Thanks to my attitude and light colors I've been known as such. I claim to be the cold solider sarcastically because I don't fucking care for names or uniforms. But Agent Hill and the others insisted to at least take advantage of the situation. S.H.I.E.L.D would give me the toys and desires I wanted. In return I'd do their requests. I was getting more out of this anyway. So if I was told to join Nat and Steve on a task I would. Today's one of those days. Nat and Steve know I hate S.H.I.E.L.D for what happened with my parents. Everything from back then is hazy, and all I asked was for my comrades to be there. Instead of a shoulder to cry on I got the cold shoulder. It's only fitting I do the same in return. Ironic that's what I'm called right? I slipped in my all white body suit. It was tight on my body but the best part was the holster and guns. Glass like holster and complete white weapons. I grin every time I fiddle with them. I tie back my hair and show my pale shoulders. It's a off the shoulder bodysuit which compliments my build. I wear glamorous gloves to complete the look. I walk out and earn a smirk from Nat who wears opposing colors. Steve looks away, I realize these colors are not modest for secret missions or any type of activity. I assume Steve dislikes the costume but Nat always tells me that that's completely off.

Rumlow interrupts as we are heading to our location, "The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star. They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, 93 minutes ago."

Steve questions, "Any demands?"

Rumlow responds, "A billion and a half."

"Why so steep?" I ask.

Rumlow responds again, "Because it SHIELD's."

"So it's not off-course, it's trespassing." Steve clicks his tongue.

"I'm sure they have a good reason." Nat replies simply but I disagree

"You know, I'm getting a little tired of being Fury's janitor." I spit.

"Relax, it's not that complicated." Nat assures.

Steve asks to change the subject, "How many pirates?"

Brock Rumlow answers, "Twenty-five, top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc." He shows them a photo of Batroc on the monitor. Rumlow continues, "Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He's at the top of Interpol's Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. This guy's got a rep for maximum casualties."

Steve is concerned, "Hostages?"

Rumlow returns, "Uh...mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell." He pulls up Sitwell's photo on the monitor. He confirms they're in the galley.

Steve gets angry, "What's Sitwell doing on a launch ship? Alright, I'm gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you'll kill the engines and wait for instructions along with Izzy. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get 'em out. Let's move."

"STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up." Rumlow tells. People get ready to dive off the jet.

Steve is talking into his wrist communicator asking Nat, "Secure channel seven."

"Seven secure. Did you do anything fun Saturday night?" Nat grins looking at me. I flick her.

Steve replies unamused, "Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, so... No, not really." He jokes.

"You know, if you ask Isabelle out, she'd probably say yes." Nat encourages.

"Nat fuck off." I grit my teeth while giving her a look.

"That's why I don't ask." Steve responds with a laugh at my anger.

"Too shy or too scared?" Nat presses.

"Too busy!" Steve claims before he jumps out of the jet. We question if he had on a parachute. He didn't.