Chapter 7

MILITARY JEEP

POV: GARP

After lifting the small trucks off the road, I climbed back into the Jeep and looked at Fury expectantly. He stared at me as if I were some bloodthirsty monster, which meant part of my plan had already worked.

While talking with the Sergeant earlier, I had noticed a few things about him.

First, Sergeant Nick Fury was, deep down, a bit of a coward. He preferred to send others ahead while he stayed in the background. Not that I necessarily judged him for it—after all, not everyone was built like me, strong and practically bulletproof.

Second, Fury was loyal only to himself. He gave me the impression that everyone around him was just a means to an end, someone who would probably sell out even his own mother if it meant saving his skin.

And third, Fury was a suspicious bastard. I'd bet he didn't even trust himself because, given the chance, he'd betray his own shadow if it offered him an advantage.

Of course, these were just vague impressions, but the longer we talked, the more they seemed to be confirmed.

As for the ambush, it hadn't caught me off guard like it did Fury. I had sensed the vehicles on the road and the armed men preparing for us from two kilometers away.

I considered warning Fury about the impending attack but decided against it. I wanted to show him that he couldn't play games with me. Besides, Hydra had erased any semblance of mercy I had for its followers.

The suicide bomber tactic was unexpected but made my actions simpler. Naturally, I was disgusted by the rain of flesh and bone that followed, but I didn't show it. After all, I wanted to send a message: "Don't mess with me; I'm not the enemy you want."

The quickest and easiest way for me? Kill twenty Hydra soldiers as brutally as possible. So far, it had a 100% success rate—at least judging by Fury's slightly fearful expression.

Fury reported the ambush over his radio, and moments later, a response informed us that a team was en route to clean up the mess and provide us with an escort for the rest of the journey.

He didn't say a word to me until we parked the Jeep at the army camp and stepped out.

"Garp, it was good getting to know you better. I hope the feeling's mutual. Our plane leaves for Sicily in exactly one week at 11:00. Until then, I've got other orders to follow. Enjoy your last few days at home. We'll be back in hell soon enough." With that, Fury took his leave, and I found myself alone.

I wondered if there was anything specific I wanted to do before heading back to the front. The decision came quickly. With determined steps, I set out to find Peggy, Steve, and Phillips so I could spend as much time as possible with my friends before going to the front. I missed Abraham more than ever, but I knew he was watching over me.

And so i did. Over the next week, I spent as much time as possible with Peggy, Steve, and Phillips. We shared meals, swapped stories, and tried to push the thought of war out of our minds, at least for a little while. The laughter was genuine, but the undercurrent of impending separation weighed on us. Even Steve, who tried his best to keep his spirits up, had a quiet intensity about him, like a man struggling with the frustration of being kept away from the front lines.

I saw it in his eyes every time we talked about the war. Steve was aching to prove himself, to do something more than just tour around the States as a propaganda figure.

He had his first Show as "Captain America" and the next was already planned. He also had many photoshoots for posters and even postcards.

The "Captain America" moniker was starting to catch on, and the public loved him. But I knew Steve wasn't satisfied with shaking hands and promoting war bonds. He wanted to fight. Still, he kept his frustration in check, always wearing that earnest smile whenever Peggy or Phillips was around.

On the last night before my departure, we all gathered around a campfire at the edge of the base. The flames flickered against the dark sky, casting long shadows and filling the cool night air with warmth. It was a simple gathering, with just the four of us sitting close together, sharing stories and memories.

Peggy, sitting on a wooden crate, looked across the fire at Steve. "So, Captain America," she said with a teasing smile, "any plans for the next big show?" Her attempt at light-heartedness was evident, but I could hear the concern behind her words.

Steve sighed and poked the fire with a stick. "You know, Peggy, I'd rather be doing something more useful. I've spent my whole life trying to prove I'm more than just a weakling… and now that I finally have the chance, I'm stuck playing dress-up."

Phillips, who had been quietly sipping from his flask, grunted. "There's more to winning a war than fighting on the front lines, Rogers. You're inspiring people. Don't underestimate the value of that."

Steve nodded, but his eyes drifted toward the horizon. "I just… I want to make a real difference. Not just in some theater performance."

I felt a knot tighten in my chest. Steve's determination reminded me of the fire that Abraham had always seen in him. It was the same fire that had slowly reignited the spark of hope within me. I cleared my throat. "Rogers," I said, my voice low and steady, "the war isn't over yet. There will come a time when you'll get your chance. But remember, when that moment comes, it'll be more than just about proving yourself. It'll be about fighting for something bigger than any of us."

He looked at me, and I could see the embers of defiance in his gaze. "I'm ready for that, Garp. More than you know."

Peggy stood up and dusted off her uniform. "Well, if you boys are done with your motivational speeches, I think it's time we get some rest. Especially you, Garp. You'll need it for whatever mess Fury has waiting for you in Sicily."

We all laughed, the tension easing up just a bit. As the fire began to die down, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Phillips. "Listen, Garp," he said in a low voice, "Fury's a good man, but he plays his cards close to his chest. Keep an eye out over there, alright? You'll be walking into more than just a battlefield."

I nodded. "I will, Colonel. And I'll make sure to come back in one piece."

The next morning, as I boarded the plane to Sicily, I looked back one last time at the base. Steve and Peggy stood near the airstrip, waving me off. I took a deep breath and turned toward the horizon. The Howling Commandos were about to face hell once more, and I was ready to unleash my fury on Hydra.

For Abraham. For Steve. And for the dream of a better world.

SICILY

POV GARP

Two days before the scheduled departure, however, there was a change of plans. Fury approached me because he had to leave earlier than expected. He couldn't share any specific details with me, not that I minded.

So, a week later, I flew out alone, savoring my last quiet moments before the chaos of war would once again take over my life.

I arrived at the camp in Sicily just as the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky a blood-red hue. The air was thick with dust and the scent of sweat, gunpowder, and diesel. It wasn't exactly welcoming, but I'd seen worse in my time. Stepping off the back of the transport truck, my massive frame towered over the soldiers milling about. I took in the sight of the rugged camp: tents pitched in haphazard rows, stacks of munitions, and fires burning in makeshift pits. It looked chaotic, but I could sense a rough order within it.

As I made my way toward what seemed like the command area, the sounds of shouting and a violent scuffle drew my attention. I changed direction, heading toward the noise. Pushing past a crowd of soldiers who had gathered in a loose circle, I saw two men locked in a vicious brawl.

The first was a massive, blond-haired man, well over six feet tall, with a wild mane of hair and eyes that glinted with a predatory yellow. His hands ended in claws that gleamed in the fading light, and he moved with a feral grace that was more beast than man. He was tearing into his opponent with a brutal, animalistic intensity, his powerful limbs and sharp claws slicing through the air.

The other fighter was shorter but no less fierce. He had dark hair, a square jaw, and a rugged look that spoke of years of hardship. His fists were balled up, but as I watched, long bone claws suddenly extended from his knuckles with a quiet snikt. The two fighters clashed again, their claws locking in a violent dance of slashing and dodging. It was raw, unrestrained, and utterly savage.

"Victor Creed and James Howlett," I muttered to myself. Fury and also Peggy had mentioned them in passing, two half-brothers whose names were almost as infamous as their nicknames: "Sabretooth" and "Wolverine." They were said to be mutants, just like me.

The fight raged on, the two mutants striking with brutal efficiency, as if they'd done this a thousand times before. I noticed that despite the fury of their blows, there was a strange rhythm to their movements, almost as if they knew each other's tactics all too well. It was like watching two predators circling for the kill, tearing each other apart, just to heal to full health the very next moment.

Suddenly, a commanding voice cut through the air, snapping everyone to attention. "That's enough!"

The crowd parted to reveal Sergeant Nick Fury, the Howling Commandos' leader, striding into the middle of the fray. His eyes fixed on the fighters, and he looked unimpressed. "Damn it, Creed, Howlett—what the hell do you think you're doing? We've got actual enemies out there, and you're tearing each other apart like a couple of alley cats."

Victor straightened up, his claws retracting as he wiped a trickle of blood from his lip. He flashed Fury a grin that was more snarl than smile. "Just keeping my claws sharp, Sergeant," he said in a deep, rough voice. "And giving Jimmy here a reminder of who's the bigger dog."

James rolled his shoulders, the bone claws sliding back into his hands with a snikt that echoed in the quieting camp. "You keep telling yourself that, Vic. We both know how this ends," he growled, his voice like gravel.

Fury turned and caught sight of me standing at the edge of the circle. "Well, look who finally showed up," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching into a half-smirk. "Monkey D. Garp, meet your new teammates: Victor Creed, a.k.a. Sabretooth, and James Howlett, a.k.a. Wolverine. Don't let the nicknames fool you—they're about as tame as rabid wolves."

I let my gaze sweep over the two brothers, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of working with men who had such raw power. "Interesting bunch you've got here, Sergeant," I said, my deep voice rumbling in my chest. "But I suppose the Howling Commandos are no place for the ordinary."

"Nope," Fury said dryly. "We specialize in the extraordinary." He glanced at the brothers. "Creed, Howlett, this is Garp. Our new heavy hitter. Treat him with the same respect you'd give me."

Victor's eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air around me. "You smell strong," he said with a wolfish grin. "We'll see if you can back it up."

James just grunted, his gaze assessing. "Better be as tough as you look. We're not here to babysit."

Before I could respond, a figure emerged from the crowd—a tall, lanky man with a wild shock of dark hair and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He wore a bomber jacket and had a cocky swagger that immediately set him apart. "Well, well," he drawled, exhaling a plume of smoke. "The big guy finally arrives. Heard a lot about you, Garp. Name's Dum Dum Dugan, but you can call me the life of the party." He extended a hand in greeting, the cigarette still perched between his lips.

I took Dugan's hand, my grip firm. "Dugan," I said with a nod. "Looks like you've got a solid team here Sergeant."

"Solid's one way to put it," Fury replied, glancing over at Creed and Howlett, who were still eyeing me like they were sizing up a piece of meat. "But we're also a bit of a handful."

Fury stepped forward, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. "Alright, introductions are over. We're all here for the same reason, so let's keep the pissing contests to a minimum. Garp, get settled in. We'll run a training exercise in the morning. Let's see if you can keep up with the 'freaks and monsters' you've just met."

I smirked, feeling a surge of anticipation. "I look forward to it, Sergeant," I said, my gaze lingering on Victor and James. "I'll try not to break anyone."

(TO BE CONTINUED)