6: First contact

6: First contact

"Where are you going?" Raven watched nervously as John hastily grabbed a few things. He had suddenly entered while she was taking a nap; he seemed to be in a hurry, and his expression was serious. Something serious was happening. Raven had started to become quite good at reading people's body language, something she hadn't been able to do so well before. She attributed it to her powers; she could become anything, perfectly imitating anyone. That also came with the ability to act like them, even if she had never known them before.

This had resulted in her being able to read people quite well. John was more difficult than most but also easier in some ways. He clearly showed what he felt, as if he always wore his heart on his sleeve. Raven had learned that people hide many things; they strive to hide parts of themselves behind layers and layers of lies. But John was different; he seemed to have no need to hide anything. Yet, at the same time, there were moments, small fractions of a second, where he seemed to transform in some way.

It was as if the man who was always honest had something more beneath what should be his true self. It was confusing, and even with her powers, Raven couldn't see through it.

"I've let others dictate what I should do for too long, Raven. I'm a soldier, not a circus monkey or a glorified dancer. It's time for me to do what I should have always done: go to war." He looked her in the eyes, blue eyes with hints of light green. There it was again, an unbridled honesty that for some reason Raven couldn't question.

"What will happen to me? What will I do?" she couldn't help but ask. While it had been her choice to follow him, he had promised to help her too, to take care of her. In the end, she was still a teenager with no place or family to turn to. At this moment, John was all she had left, and if he left, then she would have nothing.

John put his hand on her shoulder and reassured her with a soft voice.

"Don't worry, I'll be back quickly. You can stay here until I return, and then I'll take you to a place where you'll be safe while the war passes."

That didn't sit well with Raven. Maybe a different girl would be fine with just having a home and waiting for all the bad things to happen, but she wasn't like that. She didn't like waiting.

"Let me go with you, I can help!"

John looked at her, sighed, and paused for a moment in his haste.

"Raven, war, war is not a place you want to go. I know things have been turbulent for you, and you're barely adjusting to this new life, but the battlefield is a cruel and ruthless one. If you go, you'll never be who you once were,"

He said it with a seriousness that Raven knew she couldn't convince him otherwise, no matter what she said. He adjusted his suit one last time before grabbing his shield and preparing to leave. Before he went, he stopped at the door and gave her one last look.

"I'll come back, I promise."

Then he left, and Raven clenched her fists, feeling useless. She was a meta-human! Something just like him, like a super soldier! So why was she staying behind while he went to fight?

She paced around the room, thinking about what to do, and that's when she heard the sound of birds' cawing. She looked out the window and saw one of the many crows that surrounded the base, staring at her intently. In a place where soldiers' corpses were coming out by the dozens every day, seeing crows wasn't strange. She had seen many before, but rarely this close.

Raven frowned, feeling her skin tingling, and a strange idea crossed her mind. Maybe...

Her disguise fell away, her blue skin along with her long red hair returned, her yellow eyes stared at the crow, which now seemed to look at her in "amazement" at her change. She smiled, and in a way beyond natural, her physical structure began to change. Her body shrank, black feathers started to emerge from her skin, and her face transformed, a beak growing where her jaw had been.

In a matter of moments, her persona had disappeared, replaced by a crow completely identical to the one outside her window. Both animals looked at each other, and then Raven cawed, causing the other crow to fly away.

She flapped her wings experimentally. Although she had flown for the first time on the plane that brought them to Italy, this felt different. Carefully, she stretched her wings and then leaped into the air, flapping her "hands" causing the momentum to increase, and she flew out the window, a sound akin to a cry of excitement coming from her beak.

Her dark eyes followed John's back as he walked away, and without hesitation, she took flight, following him.

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"And what's your grand plan?" Peggy looked at John as he studied a map of the area he had requested secretly.

"Here, this place is where their transports move daily. Although it's heavily guarded, it will also give me a chance to enter Hydra's base directly," he said, pointing to one of the points on the map that the army had managed to "verify"

"And how will you get there? Do you really think you can cross the Italian border and the front line to Austria by yourself?"

John smiled, one of those confident smiles Peggy had come to know from him even though they hadn't interacted much. She liked that smile, but at the same time, she knew it meant he was willing to do something "crazy."

"The serum, it's been more incredible than I initially thought. It's been a few months, but I feel much stronger than when I left that Laboratory. I don't know how much, but I think I can cross the battlefield myself."

She didn't doubt his words. The serum was so experimental that knowing its real effects in practice would have been an entire field of study if Dr. Erskine hadn't died. Now, the only living subject who could point out any effects the serum had on humans was John. If John one day said that the serum made him capable of flying through the air and spitting ice, then no one could contradict him.

"Confidence is good, but having too much can kill you. I know you've been on the battlefield before, so you know how dangerous it is, but there must be better options than doing it all by yourself..." She wanted him to do something, but sending him alone to essentially the front lines of German territory was too dangerous.

They were stationed at a base near the borders, more precisely near the Trentino-Alto Adige area in Italy. The whole way from there to the mountains that separated Italy and Austria had become the fiercest battlefield in recent days.

The Allies had managed to gain some control of Italy after Mussolini's death. The place still wasn't entirely safe, but their bases were firmly planted in Italian territory. The problem arose once you started to approach the borders with Austria. Cities and towns were burning, the mountains had turned into a relentless hell where thousands of men were losing their lives every moment.

Losing Italy had been a harsh blow for the Germans, and they wanted it back no matter the cost, and if something didn't change, they would soon succeed.

"I'm a super soldier, remember? The battlefield is where I should have always been. I just regret not getting here sooner." They both looked at each other for what seemed like hours but were only a few seconds. She gritted her teeth, but the decision was made.

She had been the one to push this, so why did she feel regret now?

"You can't die," she said without thinking, and he raised an eyebrow, looking at her with doubt.

"You have to come back." she told him. She couldn't live with herself if he died because of her.

He smiled at her, this time with one of those gentle smiles that made her stomach flutter for no reason.

"I will. It's a promise, and I never break my promises," he said, smiling at her. They both drew closer to each other, and before she could stop herself, she hugged him. Their faces inches away from touching, it might be the last time they would ever see each other so she couldn't help but get carried away even if it was only for an instant.

She felt his lips on hers, getting lost in the warm sensation as their bodies twisted against each other. It could have lasted for hours, but time was precious, so she had to end it even if she was reluctant to do so.

"See you soon, Agent," he said before adjusting his shield on his back and taking the map, then he left.

She reached out her hand for a moment, then clenched her fist. He was doing his part; she should do hers.

In the skies, a crow followed John's path unnoticed by anyone.

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Northern Italy, near Bressanone.

Carlo crouched down as enemy fire rained over his head like an incessant steel downpour. He swallowed the blood trickling down the inside of his mouth and quickly reloaded the weapon he had stolen from one of the German corpses.

Carlo had been just a farmer; he hadn't been part of the army, and if it were up to him, he would never have wielded a weapon. But a man's will is smaller than God's will, and now he was here, as part of the partisan resistance. With the Allies aiding them, the resistance had become bolder. They wanted the Germans out, but the Germans had proved to be much stronger than they had expected.

A battle they had thought secure had turned into another where they were forced to begin a retreat.

At this rate, they would lose Bressanone; the enemy was getting too close.

Carlo adjusted the weapon one last time before gritting his teeth and starting to counterattack. He didn't aim because he didn't know how to, and even if he tried, the smoke and fire clouding his vision were obstacles he couldn't overcome.

He heard the screams, and a hail of bullets rushed towards him. He had hit one, and now he had all their attention. Carlo threw himself into cover, crawling on the ground, feeling the earth shaking.

He heard the sound of wheels, enormous vehicles approaching. They were probably those "panzers" he had heard about. Carlo didn't know for sure; he didn't even know the name of the weapon he carried. For him and many others, the only thing that mattered was knowing what to aim at and knowing what to run from.

In this situation, he didn't know if he could run.

He peered through one of the cracks, and what greeted him was one of the German army's metal giants, its cannon starting to aim in his direction. It was at that moment that Carlo knew he was dead.

He didn't close his eyes because death didn't scare him; he had decided to die a long time ago, fighting for a future where his children could grow up. He only lamented not being there to see it.

The tank's cannon aimed at him, and Carlo looked into the deep darkness within, waiting for death.

But death didn't come. An object moving faster than Carlo could react collided with the tank's head, causing it to veer off course, the turret bending as if the metal it was made of were nothing more than wet cardboard.

The enormous vehicle shook, and the German soldiers shouted in alarm, aiming their weapons in a direction Carlo couldn't see.

Whatever had struck the German tank was now barely identifiable.

Even without knowing what was happening, Carlo firmly grasped the weapon in his hands again and aimed. War never waits for anyone, and Carlo had long since learned to react quickly to abrupt changes.

He fired at the German soldiers, but soon he stopped because before his eyes, a figure that moved faster than the wind and struck harder than bears appeared.

Every blow he delivered sent an enemy soldier flying through the air, his shield adorned with bright colors blocking each bullet with ease, and in a matter of seconds, he reached the enemy tank and With a single kick, the enormous metal vehicle was overturned with a ease Carlo could barely believe.

Not only he, but all those who were still alive and were part of the partisan resistance, watched in astonishment as a single man faced the enemy army. Many quickly snapped out of their daze; without losing this opportunity, they roared and emerged from their hiding spots, following the man who had changed the situation believed to be lost.

Carlo stood up, along with many others, roared, and aimed his weapon. It didn't matter what kind of enemies were ahead or the weapons they carried; with the mysterious man leading the resistance, it was as if they had become a spear of war navigating without any obstacles, cutting through everything like a sharp blade.

"Carlo!" Upon hearing his name, he turned and saw his "commander" Carlo had thought he was dead, but he was glad that wasn't the case.

"Franco!" He approached him. The man was an old Italian soldier who had deserted to join the resistance when Italy began to support the fascist regime. He had been keeping a low profile until Mussolini died and the Allies began to send troops for assistance.

That was when he started to lead others like Carlo in the fight.

"Do you have any idea what's going on, Carlo?" he asked as he aimed and fired before taking cover again.

Carlo quickly shook his head as he took cover alongside him.

"Not a clue, sir, but we're regaining ground quickly." Both looked as best they could through their hiding spot to see another team of German soldiers easily dispatched by the man with the star on his chest, as many had begun to call him.

"Let's go, Carlo. We need to meet our friend." Seeing that there were fewer soldiers attacking them, Franco stepped forward. He was the leader of these men, and it was his responsibility to face anything first, whether it was good or bad.

Carlo didn't hesitate to follow him, and soon both approached as close as they could, providing covering fire for the man who was effortlessly wielding a Browning M1919 with one hand while unleashing the wrath of God upon the German soldiers.

Carlo didn't know the name of such a weapon, but Franco did, which only increased his astonishment at seeing how a single man could easily handle such a formidable weapon with one arm.

The recoil didn't seem to affect him in the slightest, and when the bullets ran out, he simply threw the weapon as if it weighed nothing, causing one of the German vehicles to flip over and then explode into a thousand pieces.

It was then that the Germans began to flee. The resistance cheered, and Franco approached the man who had slightly slowed his relentless assault.

"Good sir, I can't express my gratitude enough. You have saved not only my men but also prevented Bresanona from being taken. May I know your name?" He extended his hand with a smile.

The man looked at him, blue eyes with small hints of green in them, and a kind smile that contrasted with the killing machine they had seen earlier. He took Franco's hand and shook it firmly.

"People call me Captain America, but you can call me Captain John. I'm a U.S. soldier," he said in surprisingly fluent and nearly perfect Italian, which startled Franco a bit.

His introduction was simple but to the point, enough to let them know where he came from. It was then that one of the younger and recently joined members of the resistance, who had been nearby, shouted and pointed at him after hearing his introduction.

"I know you! You're the super soldier! I've heard about you!" The boy's name was Angelo. He was only 17 years old and had joined the resistance when his hometown was destroyed by the German army in a bombing. His village had been near the coast, so some news occasionally reached them.

"Super soldier?" Franco muttered. He could certainly believe that and decided to ask Angelo more about it in private.

The man, John, smiled and greeted Angelo.

"If you know me, that makes things easier. He can tell you more about me. But the crucial point is that I'm on a rescue mission; I need to go to Austria," When he said this last part, all the men present exclaimed in terror, visible in their eyes.

"Do you really want to go to that place?! It's a living hell!" Franco said in warning. The border with Austria was now the most violent point in Italy, and it was said that the German troops were testing new types of experimental weapons there.

"I have no doubts. It's something I must do. I'll help secure Bresanona, but I'll leave soon. In my advance, I hope to help push back the German army as much as I can. I could use a bit of help, but only from those willing, of course," he said, clearly making an offer.

Franco looked at him seriously, then at Carlo, and then at his other men. He remembered what John was capable of and the term "super soldier" Maybe this was an opportunity, one that the partisan resistance shouldn't pass up.

He smiled and shook John's hand once more

"If you can help us kick their butts, then we'll follow you. I'll get in touch with many more men. With them joining us, and with us, you'll definitely be able to break through the enemy lines," Franco said. He had some influence and was confident that the other resistance leaders would listen to him. He couldn't promise to follow John beyond the border, but helping him reach it was certainly possible.

John returned his smile.

"Then let's do it!"

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Note:

I probably don't need to repeat this, but I will anyway. If you're someone well-versed in history or a history enthusiast who knows a lot about the events of World War II, I advise you to turn off your brain a bit because this story will not faithfully follow real events.

For example, Azzano is the place where the 107th lost and were captured. Azzano doesn't exist; it's a fictional location from Marvel. Like this, there are many things/events that have nothing to do with reality, so don't expect accuracy since the existence of John, Hydra, and "mutants" will change many things.

Having said this (which will be the last time I mention it), I hope you can enjoy this story. Critiques, advice, and other feedback are welcome.

The next update of SuperSoldier is now available on Patreon (patreon.com/EmmaCruzader) If you don't want to wait for a public update, you can take a look at it n.n