Chapter 6

Disregarding and refusing the help of doctors attempting to aid Leo, he reached for a nearby radio and swiftly adjusted the frequency. 

*BZZZ*

"Hawks. I need assistance. I'm at the port."

After ending the call, Leo leaned wearily against the entrance to the port. He watched as other Agents and soldiers rushed to secure the damaged warehouse. The weight of his recent battle clung to him like a heavy cloak.

A few minutes later, a car sped towards him and screeched to a halt right in front of Leo. The passenger door swinging open. 

Slowly, he got into the car, turning to the driver and mumbling a quiet thanks. "Oh, Leo," Hawks muttered with tears forming in her eyes as she took in Leo's battered state, fully aware that his body needed the suit to heal these extreme injuries.

Supporting the heavily injured Leo to his room. Hawks couldn't help but reprimand him for his reckless actions. Her voice quivered with concern as she whispered, "Leo, what were you thinking? Look at how badly you're hurt." 

Leo managed to give her a reassuring smile, but immediately winced in pain due to his internal injuries. He replied, "I'll be fine. I just need to put on the suit."

Reaching Leo's room and slamming open the door, Leo released Hawks' support and quickly shed his clothes before putting on his tenebrous suit. Once the suit was compressing against his skin he sighed in relief. 

Hawks, unable to help any further, watched as Leo curled into a fetal position on the room's dark corner and began to convulse in pain as he healed. Red steam filled the room and the scent of iron permeated the air yet Hawks continued to watch over him. 

The room was tense with the sounds of Leo's painful healing process. Hawks couldn't help but feel a mix of worry and frustration. She knew that he was stubborn, and this level of self-harm was bound to intensify.

"Leo, you can't keep doing this to yourself," Hawks sighed, pacing around the room. "What if something happens and you can't reach your suit in time? What if the suit can't handle the extent of your injuries someday?"

Leo grimaced in pain but managed to speak through gritted teeth, "Hawks, I appreciate the concern, but I had to do what I had to do." 

Hawks shook her head, her lovely brown hair framing her worried face. "There has to be a balance, Leo. You can't save anyone if you're not in one piece yourself. And relying solely on that demonic suit is a dangerous game." 

As Leo's convulsions subsided, he sat up, the dark material of the suit now fully adhered to his body. He looked at Hawks with a determined gaze. "I know the risks, Hawks. But I owe it to everyone to continue on this path."

Hawks wiped her tears away, realizing that his sense of revenge was unshakable. "Just promise me you'll be more careful, alright?"

Leo nodded, "I promise." 

Hawks continued to watch over him as the red steam slowly dissipated, and the room returned to a semblance of normalcy. The scent of iron lingered, a reminder of the toll Leo's action took on his body. 

"Alright, Leo. Let's get you patched up with proper medicine this time." Hawks sighed, offering a hand to help him up. Leo chuckled and accepted her hand. 

-_-

Agent Devlin entered a room after taking a few hours to heal and announced, "You called, Colonel."

Colonel Phillips, in his characteristic manner, rubbed the bridge of his nose as he began to speak.

"How are you feeling, 009?" 

"I've had better days, Sir." He tiredly replied. 

The Colonel went on, "I just spoke with the president this morning."

"The SSR has been retasked to take the fighting to Hydra," he continued, his tone serious. "Rather than waste a valuable agent babysitting an experiment, you've been given a new task. To infiltrate a Hydra base of operations and find out what sort of creatures they're creating. Your handler should have already received the report and will be waiting for you."

Agent Devlin tiredly nodded in response to the succinct briefing and asked, "When do I start?"

"Tonight. Pack your bags," the Colonel replied.

-_-

A tiny plane glided through the Atlantic Ocean, illuminated only by the bright moon. Three individuals were seated closely together at 24,000 feet above the ocean. On the left was Howard Stark, the nation's foremost mechanical engineer. On the right was Margaret Carter, an English SSR agent. Squished between them sat Agent Devlin, the youngest U.S. special operative agent.

Agent Devlin attempted to break the palpable tension in the cabin, saying, "So, Hydra, huh?"

Howard Stark turned to him with a quizzical expression and asked, "How old are you again?"

"16. Why?" Agent Devlin replied.

Both Stark and Agent Carter visibly reacted to his age with surprise and concern.

"16! There's no way!" Stark exclaimed, his tone more exuberant than necessary.

Agent Carter just shook her head and muttered something under her breath.

Agent Devlin huffed lightly and responded, "It is what it is, Howie."

"Don't call me that. Just Howard is fine," Stark said, placing his hand on his face, seemingly to process the revelation.

"Mhm," Agent Devlin nodded, giving him a thumbs-up.

Agent Carter then inquired, "How long have you been a supersoldier?"

This question seemed to trigger Stark, who muttered to himself, "Of course, you're a supersoldier as well."

Agent Devlin corrected her statement, saying, "Pseudo supersoldier."

Agent Carter pressed for clarification, "What do you mean by pseudo supersoldier? You said the same thing earlier today in the car."

He explained, "I just have better dexterity and agility than a trained individual, but what makes me 'superhuman' is this muscle suit that I wear."

Stark, with his mechanical expertise, began to examine his suit, "Muscle suit? Like a compression shirt?"

Agent Devlin elaborated, "Not really, it's more like body armor that enhances my physical capabilities to extreme margins."

Stark and Agent Carter were curious about the possibilities, with Stark asking, "Why aren't there more of those suits available for the army?"

Agent Devlin delved into the complex nature of his enhancements, saying, "Well, the doctor in charge of the project altered my genetic makeup to handle the strain of enhancing my physical capabilities and synced it with the suit, making me its only 'pilot,' so to speak."

He continued, "Overall, allowing me to achieve superhuman feats."

The mystery of his transformation and the involvement of a doctor prompted Stark to inquire further, "And who's this doctor? And what material is this made of?"

Agent Devlin responded with a simple, "Classified. Sorry."

Stark's curiosity got the better of him, and he probed, "How did he alter your DNA?"

Agent Devlin chuckled at the seriousness of the question and the expression on Stark's face. "Again, classified."

Agent Carter redirected the conversation to its original course, asking, "So, how long have you been active?"

Agent Devlin maintained his secrecy, replying, "Classified."

The plane's communication system interrupted their conversation with a series of beeps, signaling their descent.

"GET READY TO LAND," the announcement blared, and after a few minutes, the plane touched down on the runway.

"WELCOME TO LONDON," the announcement continued, though Agent Devlin's stay in London would be brief. Without a chance to say goodbye to his two newfound "friends," he was immediately transferred to another aircraft. With takeoff imminent, he closed his eyes in hopes of catching some much-needed rest.

'I hope it's a fast flight. Can't wait to get some solid rest,' he thought as he drifted into the uncomfortable realm of sleep.