[center][h1][color=4682B4][b]C A P T A I N A M E R I C A [/b][hr][/color][/h1][/center] [center][b]Fourteen months ago[/b] [sub]Camp Dwyer FOB, Garmsir District, Afghanistan[/sub][/center] The steel point pierced through its target, embedding deeply inside until the metal was completely enveloped in red. An anguished cry let loose an instant after the impact. "Fucking Christ!" Frank Castle whipped around to stare at the source. The smirk playing across his lips hidden by the beer bottle he sipped from. "What," he said, meeting the gaze of Lance Corporal Ross Conway. "you really doubted me?" The young man and newest member of the platoon swept his eyes from his senior to the corkboard across the room. Five darts stuck out of the bullseye in such a close grouping the corporal had a hard time believing his eyes. "That's unreal, man..." A deep voice chortled at that. "When it comes to Frank, there's a lot that seems unreal. Especially that mug of his." A tall, well-built man stepped up beside the two and reached out to rest a hand on Frank's shoulder. "Every day I marvel at how this guy managed to get married. Now [i]that's[/i] hard to believe." "Come on, John, jealousy doesn't suit you." Frank shrugged off the hand and spun around, swatting the larger man's midsection. "Then again, with a gut like that, not much does suit you." "Ah, cute. Real cute. Maybe you wanna hop in the ring so I can put another dent in that ugly snout of yours." John shot back, gesturing towards a nose that had visibly taken some hits in the past. "Oh yeah?" Frank's eyes narrowed, his right fist raised. "Square up, Gunny. I'm good to go." Gunnery Sergeant John Stewart glanced around at the mostly empty bar, his gaze passing over the younger Conway who seemed unsure and slightly worried at this turn of events, before settling back onto Frank's. "Right then." John stepped forward, his right arm also outstretched. The two jarheads clasped arms, huge grins breaking out across their faces as they pulled one another into a hug. "Damn, Frank, I think the newbie just about shit himself over there," John told his friend as they broke apart and turned to face the corporal. Laughing, Castle added, "yeah, this one's a little gullible. Should have seen him the other day, the other guys had him convinced platoon tradition meant all fresh blood had to give the CO a special gift. You should have seen his face when he handed the lieutenant a box of chocolate." John looked over to the younger man who had his eyes cast down sheepishly. "Aw, hey, don't feel too bad about it, Rookie. When Frank here first joined up, one of the boys told him—" "Woah, I think we've taken up enough of the corporal's time. Isn't that right, son?" Frank cut in, casting a 'not a chance' look towards his best friend. "Tell you what," he told Ross, "it's getting late, how's about you head on back to the barracks and leave John and I here to catch up." "Uh, sure. Alright." Conway looked towards John, "but you've definitely gotta tell me some of the stories another time, Sarge. Something tells me they're worth it." "Over my dead body," Frank laughed again, grabbing a beer and tossing it towards John. The two migrated over towards the empty lounge chairs as they began discussing events of their respective last few weeks. John, Frank's closest friend in the corps, had just gotten back from leave while Frank had been tasked with overseeing the newest trio of graduates from the scout-sniper school. They both would have preferred swapping positions, truth be told. Frank hadn't seen his family in person in close to five months, and John... Well, it was never easy to bury your mother. He'd have welcomed the chance to distract himself with recruit supervision. "How're Maria and the kids? Spoke to them this week yet?" John said an hour later. "They're good. Great even. Lisa just had her dance recital last week and Maria tells me she killed it. And Junior, man, that kid just wrote his full name for the first time. Can you believe that? He's already grown up so fast." John could hear his friend's voice catch slightly at the sentiment but chose to let it go without mention. "You put in for leave? Doesn't look like we're going to spin up for a while, should have time to spend with them, at least." Frank scoffed. "I tried. Twice. Brass keeps denying me for some reason. Tells me I'm needed here." "Hey, you know how it is. I'm sure you'll get cleared sooner than later." "Right. Until then I'll keep missing all the moments that matter." The two sipped their beers in silence, letting that thought hang for a moment. "You know," Frank finally added, "Maria and I were talking last time I was over there. About how in a couple of more years I'll have hit my twenty. About how, maybe, it's about time." John cast a surprised glance at his fellow marine. A few years ago he never would have expected the man to even hint at such a thing; Frank Castle lived and breathed the marine corps. "You considering it for real?" John asked. There was a long pause before Frank finally answered. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so." "Well shit." "I miss my family, man. I miss holding my babies. No," he paused for a moment, reflecting. "I already [i]did[/i] miss that. They're no longer babies... I just don't want to miss anything else." "Hey," said John, "you don't gotta justify yourself to me, brother. Twenty years is a long time to serve. Several lifetimes for many of us. There's no shame in retirement. And, if anyone deserves it, it's you, Frank." The two clinked their bottles together and took another sip. It was getting late, the sun was only a few hours from rising, and they knew it was about time to call it a night. As they stood, however, a gravelly voice called out. "Staff Sergeant Castle." "Yeah, what's up?" Frank spun around slowly, careful not to lose his balance. He was partway through lifting the beer back to his lips when his eyes widened. "Shit," he cursed under his breath soft enough that he hoped the man before him wouldn't hear. Hastily shoving his near-empty bottle toward John, the marine straightened his back and offered a salute. The man before him wasn't someone Frank recognized, but the polished gold insignia was impossible to mistake. "Major!" "At ease, Marine." The officer didn't bother returning the salute, instead, he passed his gaze over the scene and sergeants before him with a critical eye. "Getting an early start to the morning?" "No, sir. Late night, sir." Frank gestured towards John who by now had also stood and saluted. "The gunny just got back and we were catching up." The older man, his hair starting to gray, nodded. "Well, I hope you two boys have finished reminiscing. I've got an assignment I need to speak to you about." "Sir?" John spoke up, confused as to why this couldn't have waited until morning. And why it was being brought up in a bar instead of a proper war room meeting. "Not you, Gunnery Sergeant." The major focused his gaze, and the slightest of smiles twisted his lips. "I need Castle. [i]Special[/i] reassignment." [hr] [center][b]Present day[/b] [sub]Over New York City, USA[/sub][/center] "Approaching the AO. ETA two minutes." Frank Castle gave two clicks over the headset's mic to acknowledge the update, not that his pilot needed it. First Lieutenant Natalie Reed was just about the best damn air jockey Frank had had the pleasure to ride with. She knew the drill as well as he did. If circumstances were different, he thought he might actually [i]enjoy[/i] the ride. Frank had never been a fan of helos in the past, but he also knew that the bird he rode in currently was unlike any other. The Super Blackhawk, while modeled after several of its famed helicopter predecessors, was the first in a next-generation series of utility and attack aircraft. Featuring twin self-articulating gyroscopic rotors, it was fully VTOL capable. Not that it was unusual for there to exist vertical takeoff and landing craft, they had been around for decades now, but the Blackhawk was unique in its mobility, speed, and range. It could carry a fully loaded complement of twelve assault troopers across the entire continental United States in less than ten hours without the need to refuel. And it was now Frank's personal transport. Much to the annoyance of many military higher-ups. Glancing out the viewport, his eye caught what remained of the Empire State Building. He could see even from this distance the recently erected scaffolding that marked what would become the start of the reconstruction process. He touched his chest and the emblem there as he stared at the wreckage. The battle that had ripped the famous monument from the New York skyline was also, in part, responsible for why he was here. And it reminded him of the destruction this city had experienced two decades earlier. Back then the tragedy had inspired him into action, propelling him into his career as a marine. Now, a similar tragedy was urging him to even greater action. The symmetry would be beautiful if it wasn't born of sadness. "Thirty seconds from LZ, Captain," Reed informed him over the radio. Ahead of him in the cockpit, she flipped several switches before adding, "we're running silent now." [i]Captain...[/i] Frank didn't know whether or not he should scoff at that title. A year ago he was a staff sergeant and would have had to address Lieutenant Reed as a superior. Now, and purely because of his new role, he was a fully commissioned officer who had skipped several grades straight to captain. That fact had never sat well with him and he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to it. "Understood, Lieutenant." Frank moved quickly, undoing his safety harness and standing by the Blackhawk's large, starboard door. His hands running across his suit and checking and re-checking his gear as a habit while his eyes bore into the single light above the doorway. Waiting for it to indicate he was clear to deploy. The seconds dragged on, seeming to stretch into minutes. The only thing audible from where he stood was his own beating heart. Even the rotors, normally deafening in a regular helo, couldn't be heard due to the silent running protocols. Frank listened, counting the beats in his chest. As the thirtieth second drew nearer, the beats came faster. [i]This is it,[/i] he thought. [i]All the training. All the expectations. This is the moment.[/i] From beneath his custom helmet, Frank Castle grinned. He hadn't been this excited for a mission in a very long time. The doorway light flashed from its usual red to a dull yellow then to a bright green. He barely registered Reed's voice confirming they were over the landing zone as he reached out and yanked, sliding the door wide open. He looked down from where the Blackhawk was hovering over Manhattan, the city streets over eighty meters below. Folding his arms across his chest in a cross, his grin widened. Then, he took a step forward, immediately dropping from the Blackhawk. "[b]Oorah[/b]!" Said the new Captain America as he plummeted to the ground below.