The Winter Soldier as sergeant
Hell of a mission: Jakes had never been on one like it. Of course, it had taken him years to work up the ranks to be allowed to audition for a spot supporting the elite and infrequent Winter Soldier unit. Soon as he'd heard it was coming back into commission, he fought tooth and nail to make sure everyone knew he intended to be on that strike team. For all that, in the end, it was only that McClinnock had recommended him. Jakes was glad of it: hell of a goddamn mission.
Nicaragua, one of these old jailed guerrilla fighters who'd decided to run the country as a reformer. Hadn't given up his ways, though. They had a hell of a time getting close, and all he and his team were doing was clearing the way. The Winter Soldier rode with them in the trucks: he gave Jake chills. He'd been obsessed with this guy for nine years, all those rumors, all those stories from the guys who'd seen him work. Jakes watched him like a shy schoolgirl, awestruck by the stare, the uniform, the arm. He didn't think the guy even noticed him.
Things went FUBAR almost as soon as they went in the field. These Nicaraguan shits were much better than even they had expected. Getting into that compound was a hell of a firefight. Jakes knew he wouldn't get to see Winter Soldier work, that they were making the big noise that gave him cover to slip in and make a statement. But he didn't really look forward to dying so that could happen, and that was starting to look more and more like a possibility.
Goddamn, it happened so fast. One minute the Nicaraguans had them pinned down, the next, the big guy was right next to him, pointing. "Stay down," came a voice from behind the mask. "Left flank, two at a time." It was a rough voice, but young. Jakes couldn't even see his eyes, but -- shit, he was taking care of them. Jakes dropped into the mud and crawled where he was directed. The flank collapsed in no time. They were all back in their vehicle inside twenty minutes. Winter Soldier didn't acknowledge any of them.
Later, McClinnock brought him down into the facility, as a treat. Jakes saw the guy's face for the first time through that little window, cold and pale and rimed with a little frost. He was a nice-looking kid under all that armor: Jakes wasn't expecting that. "Hell of a mission," he said again. "Better'n anything I could have expected."
"Sure was something," McClinnock agreed.
Jakes grabbed his elbows. "He always like that?"
"Like what?"
He nodded toward the window. "Checking in like that. I always thought it was acceptable if we didn't make it back."
McClinnock rolled his shoulders. "Well. Word is he was a sergeant during the war."
Jakes raised his eyebrows. You heard rumors, but McClinnock was only a step or two removed from the real bigwigs. "Saved our asses," Jakes finally said. "I'm proud I was part of that."
"You did good there too," McClinnock said, and held out his hand. "Next time we need you, I'll let you know. Keep on your toes."
"Just say the word," Jakes said, all eagerness. "Any time."
Behind the window, blue-lipped and fragile-looking, Jakes' next chance slept on.