borscht
“What took you so long?” Cap said nonchalantly as you walked into the Quinjet. Although the fight with the man lasted less than 10 seconds, you were exhausted just thinking about the work the team would have to go through to catch whatever Nova was. You place the briefcase on top of one of the open surfaces in the jet. Cap, Sam, and Natasha join you as you open the briefcase to what you saw earlier.
“This. A man was waiting for me to take the briefcase. He killed himself just to tell me that something was coming for us. For the world.” You sighed as you rubbed your temple in distress. Hydra and the Red Room were only fully taken down a couple of years ago, and for some reason, it felt unfair that this was happening again. It seemed like a never-ending cycle for you.
“Nova. Interesting name,” the redhead remarked. Natasha looked at you with concerned eyes. She saw the distress in your eyes because she was probably thinking the same as you.
“This was methodical. I don’t think this is one organization that simply falls alongside its leader. It grows, much like Hydra. I can feel it,” you remark. The entire Quinjet fell silent, a heavy feeling surrounding everyone onboard.
“I’ll start up the bird. We can discuss this at the tower, Shadow. For now, go rest.” Sam was always the outwardly considerate one. Always looking out for the wellbeing of the team. He walked over to the control center, and before you knew it, the aircraft was soaring through the sky, and your eyes were closing to the sound of the silent hum of the engines.
—
For some reason, the mission drained you, something you haven't felt in so long. You were usually happy to see the rest of the team, excited to see Wanda and Vision snuggling on the couch watching cheesy romcoms, Tony fixing his cooking robot to push out dinner for the team, and Clint on the phone with his family. You would typically greet Wanda with a hug, Vision with a nod, Tony with a high five, and Clint with a warm smile. Today, however, you bee-lined towards your living quarters on the 50th floor. When you first moved in, Tony was gracious enough to give you a room with a stunning view of Manhattan. The twinkle of the lights in the skyline alongside the ambient lamps that littered your room always managed to calm you down no matter how stressed you were. You plopped down onto your beanbag chair in the corner, sighing deeply.
It was just another mission, you kept telling yourself. Don’t let it affect you. You slipped out the tactical suit and placed it in your laundry hamper. How funny. You put the uniform you use to save the world with your typical jeans and sweatpants in the same laundry bin. Slipping into your night clothes of a loose t-shirt and blue and white striped pajama shorts, you tossed yourself in bed and attempted to detach. Whenever a mission was particularly challenging, your coping mechanism was simply going into another world. One where no one wanted to kill other people. One where everyone could live in peace without war. One where people like the Avengers were not needed. As you slowly fell into a slumber, Friday’s voice lit into your room.
“Ma’am. Mr. Stark put dinner out for you. It is waiting on the table for you outside.”
“Thank you, Friday. Thank Tony for me, please,” you grumbled, loosely putting a sweater over your head. You tossed your head over to look at the clock on your bedside table. 10:36pm. You were lying on your bed for longer than you thought. As you walked towards the dimly lit dining table, you could smell the fragrant smell of борщ. Borscht. A classic Russian comfort dish. You made a mental note to thank Tony and his stupid chef robot. The strong scent of beet that filled your nostrils practically begged you to devour the dish. And devour you did.
–
“Did you enjoy the dish I made yesterday?” Tony smirked in your direction. It was a new day, which meant it was time to discuss what the briefcase from yesterday’s mission uncovered.
“Oh, it was delightful, Tony. A bit heavy on the salt, though,” you responded insightfully. Tony playfully shoved your shoulder.
“Hey! I tried my best.”
“Correction. Your robot tried its best.”
“But it's the thought that counts, right?”
“Hmm, I guess. But if you want to make борщ right, you could’ve asked me or Nat, you know.”
“In my defense, I just wanted to do a nice thing for you. I know you’ve been working hard, and Cap told me you weren’t yourself after yesterday's mission.” Tony looked at me with sympathy and genuine care. You patted Tony on the back. “I’m good now. The soup did help,” you respond with a giggle. Tony gave you that nerdish smirk once more before leaving your side to gather the team.
“Let's bring Bucky on. I think he’ll be a valuable asset to this team for this mission. His goal is the same as ours: take down whatever Hydra stood for. Nova is looking for world domination—the destruction of this world for one that rises from its ashes. We need to go by all measures necessary to make sure whatever plans they have never come to fruition,” Steve addressed the debriefing room. “He has a complicated past, but I think he will make himself useful for this. Are we all in agreement to bring him on?” Steve looked around the room for confirmation. The room nodded in agreement, with the only thing on their minds to stop whatever Nova was planning.
“Great. I will let you know when Bucky arrives so you all can greet him.” Steve takes his leave to presumably pick up his helpful friend. You were just excited to have an asset to take down Nova. You rushed into the gym locker rooms to slip into your training gear. A sleek navy blue two-piece set was on your body in no time, with the top hugging your arms and chest ending at your midriff. The pants are tight to your legs, highlighting your body's smooth curves while hosting pouches for your tactical gear: knives, pistols, teargas. You tentatively wrapped your knuckles in hand wrap, preparing for an intense sparring session with the punching bag. After 2 hours, you decided to take a quick break before moving on to the strength training. Gulping down water, you see your phone light up with a notification.
Mr. Cap: He’s here. Everyone in the conference room, please.
You let your hair fall loosely down your shoulder before tying it into a tight ponytail. Delicately unraveling your hand wrap, you placed it into your locker and closed it with a firm slam. You take your phone with you as you ascend the elevator to the 45th floor. A blank face quickly replaced your beaming smile as you laid your eyes upon the brooding man who was sitting next to Steve in the conference room. A couple of seconds ago, you were shaking with excitement to meet the new addition to the team. For the past year, you were the newbie, but now, there was someone new to replace you. But this man was the opposite of a newbie to you. You knew him.
His dark blue eyes.
His cascading dark brown hair.
His silver metal arm.
The red star on his metal arm.
But there’s no way. The man you were shamelessly staring at had none of the features you distinctly remember. His dark blue eyes were a shade lighter. His long hair was cut into a modern fade. His metal arm was still metal; however, it was a dark shade with gold accents in the crevices of the metal plates. The Winter Soldier you remember was no longer there.