Arc III: Avengers Assembled
11 – The Super Soldier
2011
Harry stood over the clatter filled work bench, running his wand over the joints between two sheets of steel and goblin silver, welding them together carefully. The alloy had held up to all the tests. Now, the only thing left to do was fabricate the suit and take it into the field. If the calculations he and Edwin had ran were accurate, the Goblin Silver would increase the strength of the metal while maintaining the regular weight, as well as allowing the suit to absorb energy attacks. They had also theorised the new metal might eventually allow them to introduce the right magic to the armour in order to produce a nanite suit.
He tilted his head up as the elevator dinged behind him. Edwin stepped out, moving further into the room. Harry placed his wand onto the work bench, and jumped up beside the half-finished suit of armour. Edwin stared at the wall beyond him forlornly as he stepped forward, hardly paying attention to the young wizard as he stepped up towards the work bench. Harry frowned slightly, glancing at his older friend, who silently tapped the chest of the new suit. Finally, the older man spoke.
"Something has come up," the butler spoke softly, picking up Harry's still unpainted helmet. "I'm going to have to leave New York for a while. I don't know when I'm going to be able to return, although it may be some time". Harry frowned, placing a hand on the older man's shoulder. If Edwin was in trouble, he would do anything it took to help the old man. After the affection and support he had shown to Harry and the others, it was the least he could do to repay the favour.
"What's going on?" he asked, staring at the other man. Edwin sighed.
"This is something I have to do; for Howard, and for myself." Harry nodded slowly.
"Sounds like you could use some help". Edwin nodded slowly.
"I did not want to impose or presume."
"What's a little presumption between friends? Now, why don't you tell me what we're up to?"
Edwin nodded, "I never actually told you how I came into the service of the Starks, did I?" Harry shook his head.
"I just assumed it was a family position, or something like that?"
"Not exactly. I first met Howard Stark during World War II. He was a young industrialist funding the United States war effort, and I was a pilot in the Canadian Royal Air Force, fighting for Britain. Though, technically, when he and I first met, I was more of a POW than an actual fighter." Harry blinked.
"Wait. Canadian air force? Not British?" Edwin smiled sardonically.
"I'm not actually British, you know. I was born in Brooklyn. In 1939, I was seventeen when war broke out. I wanted to do my part, and so I ran away to Canada, forged papers, and joined the Royal Air force. In 1942, I was shot down and captured by Nazi forces. At first, I thought I was doomed; they would surely kill me. Little did I understand what I had truly fallen into. I had been captured, not by the German Wehrmacht, but Hydra, Hitler's depraved science division. Their leader, the red skull, was seeking ultimate power. He meant to dominate all humanity, Axis, Allied, and neutral powers alike. Nothing less would satiate his greed."
"As I could still work, I was put into slave labour, working on weapons and other equipment for Hydra. Then, in 1943, just as those of us in the camps were beginning to run out of hope, salvation came. In a most unlikely form. Steven Rodgers, the man you know as – "
"Captain America." Jarvis nodded. From the day of my rescue until the end of the war, I fought with the Captain, and did not see the shores of my native land again until my return flight to New York. Unable to look my parents in the eye after leaving them for so long, I took a job as Howard's Butler, and have worked for the Stark family ever since. Until the accident, that is." Harry placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"You said you had to do this for Howard, as well as for yourself?" His friend nodded.
"Some of my old contacts have given me some disturbing information. They have heard rumours that both Shield and Hydra have been digging around the North Atlantic, near where Steve's plane was known to have gone down. It seems they may be looking for his body, or the artefact on the plane with him."
Harry nodded, glancing at the suit lying on the work bench next to him. "So then, this sounds like a job for Iron Man."
"Might I suggest the MK VII and its stealth capabilities, sir?"
"The Black Mamba?"
Jarvis nodded.
-HPIM-
He soared over the North Atlantic, scanning for any unusual shipping activity. Below him chugged his speed boat, Edwin at the helm. The old man's voice sounded through his comm. System. "How is the suit running, sir?"
"Perfect. She's running silent, as expected. We'll just have to see if the disillusionment charms last longer with the Goblin Silver."
"If you calculated it correctly, I'm sure they will sir." Harry was caught short responding by a ping over his sensors.
"Hold on," he stated, panning his gaze over the ocean below. "JARVIS is picking up on something."
"As are the instruments down here."
"Pull up, don't engage. We don't know who it is yet. Maybe shield, maybe nothing at all." Below, the boat came to a stop, Edwin moving to the front of the craft, double barrel shotgun in hand. Harry dipped lower, soaring over the ocean. He pushed magic into the runes on the armour, engaging the disillusionment charms.
"Hey Ed," he called through the comms. "Do me a favour would you? Look up." The old man glanced up towards the sky, frowning slightly as he tilted his head back towards the sea in front of him.
"I don't see anything," he stated.
"Good. That's kind of the point." Shots rang out across the water, followed by a shout through the mist. "Come no further old friend," came a thickly German-accented voice, directed towards Edwin below. "It has been too long indeed. I have not seen you since Wakanda!" Four other boats broke through the mists. Stood on the prow of the lead ship was a tall, bald man in uniform. He stood watching Edwin, a cold grin on his face, the right side of which was covered in grotesque scars. Edwin levelled the shotgun between the other man's eyes, ready to fire. In the figures left hand, he held a German Luger; his clenched right hand was covered in a crimson metal gauntlet.
"Strucker" his friend snarled, stepping forward, gun still pointed at the German.
"You have not aged well, Squadron leader. I on the other hand, feel as young and strong as I ever have! Tell me, did you come here looking for the good captain? You will never find him! Or is it perhaps the Tesseract you seek? I'm sure the young Mr. Stark would be fascinated by such power. Speaking of your iron-clad friend, where is he?"
"I came alone," Edwin replied, as Harry slowly banked the armour towards the Hydra gun boats. "Tell me something, Baron; since when were Hydra paid thugs? I was a little surprised to learn you involved yourselves with Madam Masque and her attack on New York."
Strucker chuckled, the sound high and cold. "Such decisions must be made, for the greater benefit of Hydra, my dear squadron leader. Masque was but a means to an end; an end that will soon be before us. Hydra will rise once more, her forces led by our greatest ever foe!" Harry had heard enough. He dived towards the lead boat, repulsors and missiles firing as Strucker staggered back, diving into the boat. The disillusionment charms having done their job, he dispelled them, his black armour striking against the cold blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Stunned Hydra goons raised their weapons and opened fire. He landed in the thick of them, kicking one in the leg, shattering his knee instantly. Repulsor blasts flashed across the ship, slamming into Hydra soldiers and throwing them into the freezing sea below.
A sharp sensation struck him in the back, as electricity tore through the suit and his body within. It was all he could do to grit his teeth to keep from screaming as the pain lanced through him. Strucker stepped behind him, lifting him off the ground, suit and all, with the crimson gauntlet of his right arm. The older man squeezed tightly, hurling him across the deck of the boat. Harry raised his arm, firing a repulsor blast, which struck the German in the right arm, forcing the fingers of the gauntlet open and pushing them into awkward angles. Strucker snarled, trying to push the gauntlet back into place as he fumbled with his luger in the other hand. Harry grinned, launching himself at the other man, repulsors firing. He swung his fist back, punching the other man roughly in the face and knocking him to the floor. The other man laughed as Harry repeatedly punched him. Edwin, who had pulled their craft up against Strucker's, levelled the shotgun between the Hydra commander's eyes.
"Start talking," his friend snarled. Harry stood slowly, pushing the other man onto his knees. Strucker smirked, and continued laughing, even as Edwin pushed the gun against his temple.
"I'll do it," he told the German, "We both know I'll kill you without a second's hesitation. If you don't tell us what all this is about, it'll take longer. Tell us what we need, I'll finish you quickly."
"You have become cynical, Herr squadron leader, in your age."
"Seeing true evil as much as I have will do that to a man, you Hydra scum."
"We both know I do not fear death, least of all by your hands. You remember our words, the words of hydra; cut off one head, two more shall take its place. Hail Hydra!" Harry snarled, tightening his grip on the old man's neck. "Start talking, or you won't like what we do to you."
He laughed, addressing Edwin as he spoke. "We found him. The captain."
"What of it? You found a dead body." Harry replied. The older man snorted.
"Such painful lack of imagination, mein young friend. The good captain is not dead. He has slept soundly, beneath the ice for decades. Erskine's formula preserved his life, and he entered a state of cryogenics. A state of hibernation, if you will. When he is rediscovered by hydra, we will 're-educate' the good captain, and help him adjust to the new reality of the world. At last, Hydra shall reign supreme. Humanity will have its guiding hand, to lead her into a glorious new tomorrow, of peace, prosperity, and justice."
"So that's it huh? You'll just conquer the world for our own benefit? All for the greater good? After all what's a world without freedom, when everyone's secure?" Harry snarled. Strucker laughed.
"You dare to challenge me, Stark? To question my morality?! We have been some of your most loyal customers! How is Hydra guiding humanity any different to you protecting American interests through violent means?"
"The difference is, I stopped. I'm improving myself, Strucker. You just want violence for the sake of violence."
"It must make you oh so proud, looking down from your ivory tower; judging me. Let us not forget Stark, that you are currently wearing the most dangerous weapon known to man." Edwin fired, and Strucker's limp form slumped forwards in the boat. The old man stared down at the dead German, before dropping into a seat at the front of the boat.
"Enjoy Valhalla, Wolfgang".
"Do you believe what he said?" Harry asked, moving over to the seat next to his friend, the suit retracting into its briefcase mode as he sat. "About Rodgers, that he could still be alive?"
The old man shrugged. "I don't know, in truth. Howard theorised it might be possible, but his main goal was getting his hands on the body to get Steve's blood and reproduce Erskine's formula. He worked at it for years."
"Perhaps we should find out". Edwin nodded, staring at the ice sheets laid out before them.
"I know where the plane went down, or at least the general vicinity. It would actually be quicker from here to go by foot. This boat is low on fuel anyway. You really need to do a better job keeping them filled up."
Harry frowned slightly. "Isn't that technically your job?" he asked the other man, mouth twitching upwards as he spoke. Edwin snorted.
"Technically," he replied, dryly, "I don't actually work for you." Harry nodded.
"That's true". Both men blinked as they looked at one another, before breaking out into a gale of laughter.
-HPIM-
That night, they sat before the fire, Harry casually tossing his wand from hand to hand as he watched the flames dance and crackle. Edwin sat silently across from him, staring intently into the flames, watching something harry himself could not see. Some distant memory of a time long ago, when heroes fought not for a school, a city, or even a single country, but the fate of the entire world. When men fought side by side as brothers, or fell, friendless and alone in the mud or cold.
Harry tried to picture it; he tried imagining what it might have been like, the sensation of terror and horror replaced by elation and hope, as a circular disc flew past his shoulder, slamming into the chest of the enemy who'd been about to kill him, but he couldn't. The closest he could come to picturing it was when he had been rescued by the order in his fifth year, and those memories were tainted by the pain of Sirius' loss. Silently, he chewed softly on the fish embedded on the skewer, the warm flesh heating his insides as he scanned the snow briefly for movement.
"What was he like?" he asked, watching the snow bank behind his friend. For several moments, Edwin did not speak. The older man merely continued to stare into the fire. Then, just as harry had all but given up, he began to speak, slowly at first.
The old man smiled sadly, showing the full weight of the years he had led for the first time since Harry had known him. "Which side," he asked, turning his gaze up to meet Harry's own for the first time in over an hour, "the man, or the legend?" Harry returned the sad smile, memories of the wizarding world and their treatment of both him and Riddle flashing by.
"The man. As you remember him. Not what all the movies and stories say, just the truth."
Edwin nodded, smiling at him approvingly. "I first met Steve Rodgers in October of 1943, when he assaulted a Hydra base that I was being held in. He had launched a suicidal solo rescue mission for the 107th Infantry Regiment, and I was just lucky to be in the right place at the right time – "
-HPIM-
October 15th, 1943
Explosions rocked the compound, followed by shouting in German and the sound of shots in the courtyard outside. Letting out a groan, Edwin Jarvis slowly sat up on his cot and made his way towards the window, pulling himself up in an effort to get a view of what was going on outside. Gunfire slammed against the walls, followed by the sound of metal slamming into skin, and pained groans. He dropped down from the window, stepping back hastily. Hurried footsteps were heading towards the doorway.
He stood back, standing ramrod against the wall, fists raised to defend himself. A vaguely New York accent called through the door "Anyone in there?! l'm looking for sergeant Barnes, 101st."
"Edwin Jarvis here," he called back, "RAF. I don't know any Barnes, but I heard they brought in prisoners from the 101st not long ago".
"Give me a minute, I'll have you out of there in a few seconds." Edwin had no time to question how the stranger would manage such a feat without a key, before the door was violently torn from the wall. Standing in the now empty doorway was a tall man in a red, white, and blue costume. It took a few moments, but eventually, he recognised the costume. Standing before him was a man wearing an American flag. He blinked stupidly, opening and closing his mouth as the blonde gestured with the shield in his hand towards the hall behind him.
"Don't ask," he said, as he handed Edwin the pistol in his other hand. Edwin nodded, still stunned into silence.
"Sure. Don't you want the gun?"
"Don't need it," the stranger replied, running off down the hall. Staring at his retreating form, Edwin shrugged, slowly creeping after him. As he pushed himself against the wall, moving towards the end of the hall, shouts and pained grunts sounded from around the corner, along with the sound of machine gun fire. He rushed towards the corner. As he stepped into the corridor, he blinked, staring at the sight before him. Standing in the centre of the hall, surrounded by dead and unconscious enemies was his saviour, shield held out in front of him. Edwin shook his head bemusedly before rushing up to join the other man. They rushed through the facility towards the regular prison cells, Edwin firing his gun and his companion barrelling his shield into chests and heads as they went. More than once, his ally's shield stopped a stray bullet from hitting him. Slowly but surely, they advanced through wave after wave of Hydra soldiers.
Rushing towards the prison hut, Edwin providing covering fire from behind, his impossibly strong companion tore the door off its hinges with a single tug, tossing it aside. Stepping in behind the other man, Edwin glanced warily at the fallen door. None of this should even be possible; what on god's green earth was happening here? Did guardian angels where the flags of the home nations of their charges now?
Punching one of the guards in the head as Edwin shot the second and third, his companion reached into the unconscious soldier's pocket, retrieving a set of keys. One of the imprisoned soldiers stared at the pair inquisitively.
"Who are you supposed to be?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm" the other man began, taking a slight breath "Captain America." The men continued to stare at them, even as the captain unlocked the cell, and proceeded to begin helping them out through the open cell door.
"I beg your pardon?" was the reply from a bewildered British officer, shaking his head. The captain shrugged, leading the way back through the hall.
"I didn't pick the name. Is there anybody else? I'm looking for sergeant James Barnes."
"There's an isolation ward in the factory," Edwin replied, speaking up, "Like the one they had me in, only worse." His companion nodded, turning to regard him solemnly.
"Get these men out of here," he instructed, "I'm going to go see if I can find anyone else." He nodded, gesturing for the crowd of prisoners to follow him out into the yard.
"Wait," called one of the others as he began to make his way off down the hall and further into the facility, "You know what you're doing?"
"Yeah, I've punched Adolf Hitler in the jaw two hundred times now." They stared at one another, each clearly questioning the stranger's sanity. He paused, looking back briefly. "Edwin," he called, "if we both live through this, the drinks are on me when we get back to base." Edwin nodded, waving over his shoulder as he led the other escapees towards the yard.
-HPIM-
The escape, once they commandeered some of Hydra's experimental equipment, had been relatively easy. They'd made their way for the tree line into the distance and into the forest, where they'd been met by Captain America, and another man, whom he assumed was James Barnes. That night, true to his word, Steve had brought Edwin and a group of American and British special forces from the camp all the drinks they could manage. Along with the rest of the commandos and Barnes, Steve had invited Edwin to join a crack squad of commandos he'd been cleared to assemble, in an effort to assault as many Hydra bases as possible, with the final goal of eliminating them entirely. He'd accepted, on the proviso that the good captain kept him well-stocked in cigars. The other New Yorker had readily agreed.
For the duration of the war, the Howling commandos would see action across Western Europe and Africa, wiping Hydra base after Hydra base off the map, and delivering several decisive blows against the Reich in the process. Their first mission had taken place in France; they had been assigned the duty of eliminating a Hydra stronghold, west of the Maginot line. Edwin had been appointed to a dual role; he would aid Bucky on the ground in sniping targets from afar, and provide air support wherever possible.
-HPIM-
1944, January
He soared through the skies, firing down countless Hydra fighters, and sweeping over the tree line to provide close air support. Through the forest below, the other commandos rushed towards the base. He scanned the skies, searching for anymore German fighters. On the horizon, lifting off from the airfield towards the rear of the base was a squadron of four fighters, each equipped with Hydra's advanced weaponry. As he dodged two laser blasts from the enemy planes, he groused over the intercom.
"Steve," he snarled, the plane shaking as a shot glanced off the rear, "have I ever mentioned how much I hate Belgium?" He returned fire, shrapnel piercing the glass cockpit of the lead fighter, which entered a steep screeching dive towards the ground below.
"A few times," his friend replied. Edwin grunted, pushing the plane further up into the air to keep the remaining enemies from attacking the ground force. Two broke off in pursuit, shots flying around him as he climbed. The final plane continued flying low, towards the advancing commandos.
"Yeah, well, I'll say it again; I despise Belgium. Head's up, you've got incoming. Can't take him out right now."
"Noted. Stay safe." Enemy fire struck the tail, rattling the plane once more. He grit his teeth, pulling out of the steep climb and soaring high over the Belgian Countryside, headed for France. The two fighters followed suite, firing on him from behind. He manoeuvred carefully, avoiding the blasts as he turned the plane around, opening fire with a return salvo of his own. Shrapnel struck one of the Hydra planes on the wing, leaving a smattering of small holes. He let out a groan, twisting the plane to avoid another volley. Again, he fired, this time striking the engine, which sputtered once, and gave off a pillar of grey smoke. Still the two fighters continued forwards, firing as they advanced. He dived to avoid their fire, and launched several shots into the belly of one of his enemies. The plane caught fire, the pilot bailing out as his craft barrelled towards the ground.
Edwin gritted his teeth, steepening the dive. His pursuer took the bait, following him towards the ground. Laser fire struck the back of the plane. His seat rocked and bounced. He steepened the dive, the ground rushing to meet him. With a few feet to spare, he pulled up, feeling the vibrations as the rear of the plane was jostled by the explosion from the pursuing craft exploding on impact. With a whoop and rush of exhilaration, he lurched forward, turning towards the nearest friendly Airfield.
"Steve," he called over the comms., "I'm finished up here. Heading back to land and re-fuel."
"Right Ed," Rodgers replied, "We're just about done. See you soon."
-HPIM-
May 1944
They ran through the jungles of Wakanda, firing at the Hydra forces. They'd been sent in to assist the locals in preventing the Nazis from acquiring some sort of rare mineral. Intel on the situation had been vague; all they really knew was that the stuff was made from the same material as Steve's shield, and that Hydra wanted it. Reports indicated that Baron Strucker himself was leading Hydra's invasion. The chance of capturing Hydra's illusive leader had been too much for high command to pass up, and in they'd been sent. The trouble was the local resistance didn't seem to understand they were there to help. Far from welcoming the Howling Commandos, they'd attacked with little distinction between allied forces and Hydra soldiers. There had been several hit-and-run style ambushes already, with the Wakandans materialising from the undergrowth, assaulting their positions, forcing a retreat, and disappearing once more, as though they'd never been there. He and Bucky were currently crouched in the grass, Sights trained on the sprawling Hydra facility Steve and the rest were about to assault. They'd received word that Strucker was going to be convoyed into the base within the next hour, and had been dispatched with orders to take him dead or alive.
"Head's up," Bucky called as a storm of dust kicked up further down the trail. Strucker's jeep was on the way. Below them, Steve fired up a flare as the signal, and the other Commandos charged the base.
"You provide covering fire," he told Bucky moving closer to the approaching Jeep. "I'll take care of Strucker." Bucky nodded, opening fire with his modified silenced Hydra rifle. Strucker was almost in view. In a matter of moments, their enemy would be dead. He lined up the shot, aiming for the side of the German's head. His finger lay tort against the trigger, ready to squeeze. A sudden shout distracted him, and the shot veered wide, slamming into the throat of the guard next to the Baron. He swore, twisting around to see what had happened. Bucky was lying unconscious on the ground when he reached him, his weapon cut in half. He swore once more, grabbing his pistol in one hand, and grabbing his unconscious squad mate with the other hand.
"Steve, Something's wrong. Bucky's wounded."
"Pull out. We're going to blow up the base."
"Noted". He slowly made his way back north, doing his best to support Bucky's weight as he made his way towards the cover of the trees. Above his head, a twig snapped. He glanced up, spotting nothing. Gently lowering Bucky to the ground, he cocked his revolver, ready to fire as he raised it above his head.
"I know you're out there! Show yourself!"
"Leave Wakanda, stranger. Or we will be forced to kill you." With that, a dark shape leaped down from the tree above him. He fired haphazardly, the shots missing their mark. The shape landed atop him, and he saw it was that of a well-built man in a black cat suit. Claws adorned the fingertips of the other figure's gloves. He fired at the chest of his assailant. As it struck the suit, the inertia was ripped from the bullet, falling uselessly onto Edwin's jacket. He fired again, to the same effect. Silver claws lashed out, cutting through the barrel of the gun. He tossed it aside, kicking his assailant in the knee. The claws lashed out, leaving jagged red lines down his left arm. He let out a groan, headbutting the cat man, who jumped back. He slowly staggered to his feet, reaching for a nearby log as a weapon. A sudden explosion rocked the air behind him. The black-clad man tilted his head to one side quizzically, before nodding to himself.
"Your compatriots destroyed the enemy facility. They will no longer steal our Vibranium. Leave. Or we will finish this another day." With that, he leaped upwards, disappearing off into the treetops.
-HPIM-
February, 1945
They'd gotten here, finally. The road had been long and painful. Bucky had sacrificed his life to get them to this moment. Zola had revealed that while Strucker had fled after the near assassination attempt in Africa, the Red Skull had all but seized control of Hydra away from him, and now planned to wipe out most of western civilization in one fell swoop. They'd assaulted the last Hydra base which Zola had confirmed was Schmidt's base of operations. Wounded in the assault, Edwin had stayed behind with the remaining Commandos whilst Steve had gone on ahead with the general and Agent Carter. There in his hospital bed, he'd listened as Peggy had begged Steve to turn the plane around, and he'd regretfully informed her that he would need to put it down in the water. Then, the transmission cut off abruptly, and Steven Rodgers said no more.
-HPIM-
10th May
He stood in the Bombed-out crater which had once been western Berlin along with Peggy and the other commandos. The Red Army had seized the capital of the Reich. Hitler was dead. Victory had been declared in Europe. Japan still needed to be broken, but he would see no more action. Instead, he had arranged for work with Howard Stark. They would be returning to New York soon. He hugged first his fellow soldiers, then Peggy, whispering in her ear that all would be well. She had nodded warily, brushing a strand of windswept hair from her face, and smiling sadly.
"I'll keep going." She murmured lifelessly. He nodded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
"I know that's what he would have wanted."
"You sure I can't convince you to come to London?"
He nodded. "I think it's time I went home."
As he walked away from these friends who had become his family, Edwin Jarvis caught himself wondering if he would ever see any of them again; somehow, he thought, he knew he would.
-HPIM-
2011
They carefully trudged across the ice. Several unconscious or dead Hydra goons lay around them. Cautiously, harry made his way to the hole they had dug in the Ice. He lowered himself to one knee, tapping his sunglasses.
"Jay" he instructed, "Give me scans, would you?" he waited several tense moments for a response. Edwin stood a couple hundred feet below him.
"I am reading faint life signatures, sir. Whoever is trapped down there, they are indeed alive." Harry blanched, running a hand through his hair. He fell back onto his butt on the ice, eyes wide. Thinking fast, he retrieved his wand from his back pocket, and stood back, pointing it at the hole.
"Accio Steven Rodgers' shield." A block of ice about the size of an icebox came flying out of the hole, landing at his feet. He took a deep breath, and clambered down into the ice below, casting several warming charms as he went. A simple lumos illuminated the metal floor of the plane. There, lying in a frozen heap, not twenty feet away was a blonde man wearing a familiar spangly outfit. He moved slowly towards the other man, staring in shock.
"Ed," he radioed up. "Get down here, we've got a package to get home!"
-HPIM-
They'd brought the captain home. Around the clock for three months, Harry, Luna, and Edwin had worked, each trying to find a way to relive the fallen soldier. He and the old man currently sat in the medical room they had given the Captain in the Manor. All their data indicated he would be awake any time now, and they had reasoned that having Edwin – a friendly if not familiar face – would potentially ease the transition. He sat, head hunched, working on a suit design on the tablet in his lap. A soft groan sounded from the bed beside him, followed by Edwin's voice.
"Steve? It's me, Edwin. Do you recognise me?"
"Where am i?" came the urgent reply. "Where are my men? What did you do to me?! Where's Red Skull?" Without warning, the disgruntled soldier leaped from the bed, and ran from the room.
"JARVIS," Harry snapped, leaping into action, "Lock down the Manor. No one gets in or out without my say-so." He rushed after the wayward soldier, hearing the tell-tale sounds of the AI carrying out his command. Rodgers may have been too fast to keep pace with, but he wasn't hard to follow; just follow the trail of his destroyed belongings, he thought grimly.
He followed the other man down two flights of stairs, towards the main hall. He finally caught up with him near the torn off dining room door. Rodgers was knelt before a window, staring out at the modern world outside. Tear tracks could be seen in his reflection through the glass. Hermione was stood behind him, a gentle hand rested silently on his shoulder. Natasha was standing at the other end of the room, a shocked expression on her face.
Silently, Harry carefully moved forward.
"Are you alright, Captain Rodgers?" He heard Hermione murmur softly. "Can we get you anything? Perhaps you might like to go back to rest."
"I – I had a date." Came the strained, weak reply.