The Red Soldier: Rise of the Red Soldier

ISSUE #12

Standing outside his old house, something felt off. The tulips had been replaced with daffodils, but they were dying as summer drew on. (Y/N) looked up at Steve who stood to his right wearing a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses. (Y/N) thought the disguise a little too obvious, the sun was behind the houses, there was no way it was going to get in their eyes.

         Steve Rogers had looked through the phonebooks of (Y/N)'s hometown. There was a Mrs Violet Hepples living at his old address, and he thought it might have been healthy for (Y/N) to visit her, to see if she was indeed his cousin. (Y/N) (L/N) didn't think it was a good idea. If Violet was alive, she'd be almost eighty. She had been so young when he'd left, he doubted she'd even remember him.

         'I don't think this is a good idea, Steve,' (Y/N) said timidly, staring at the new door, it was painted red now, instead of blue, and the doorknocker had become rusted. 'She probably doesn't even remember me. It might not even be her, her surname was Havelock.'

         'She might have gotten married,' retorted Steve, 'I'll be waiting in the car round the corner.'

         'Can you not come in with me?' (Y/N) asked him, 'I'm sure she'd love to meet Captain America.'

Steve shook his head and rested a hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder, 'you'll be fine, do you remember how to call me if you need anything?' (Y/N) nodded. Wanda had helped him put everybody's phone numbers into his mobile phone. All he needed to do was press the big button at the bottom, tap the green picture of a telephone, find the name of who he wanted to speak to, and tap on it. 'Good,' smiled Steve, 'I'll see you after.'

(Y/N)'s feet tapped against the cobbles as he approached the front door. His fingers flicked the doorknocker up, letting it ring against the hardwood. A few moments went by and then an old lady answered the door, a sheen to her eyes as she looked up at him. She wasn't a brunette anymore, and she had wrinkles now, but her eyes were the same. 'I was wondering when I might see you. You best come in.'

Inside, the house was completely different. The walls had been wallpapered, the runner on the stairs had been swapped out, and there was central heating in every room. The tiled flooring in the entrance hall remained though, along with the hardwood floorboards in the living and dining rooms. Once the front door had shut, Violet led the way into the living room. She poured tea from a pot into two cups and opened the biscuit tin.

         The settee in the living room was a lot more comfortable than the one which had been there when (Y/N) was a child. There was a television in there now too. (Y/N) had tried using the one in Wakanda when he worked at the hospital. His colleagues tried to teach him how to use it, but he'd given up after a few minutes of pressing the buttons on the remote and getting nowhere.

         'I wasn't sure you'd remember me,' (Y/N) said, removing his teacup from its saucer and taking a sip, 'you were so young.'

         'And you still are,' chuckled Violet, 'ninety-four years old, and yet you look the same as you did when you used to pick me up from nursery seventy-five years ago.'

         'They were always my favourite kinds of days,' said (Y/N), picking a rich tea out of the biscuit tin and dunking it in his tea, careful not to leave it in for too long in case it snapped. 'So, you're married?' he asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing, 'who's the lucky gentleman.'

         'Widowed,' Violet corrected forlornly, although she didn't look too upset, 'I married John a year after I graduated. He died a year ago. It would have been our fifty-sixth wedding anniversary this Tuesday.'

         'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,' (Y/N)'s brows knitted together in concern, 'you went to university? I always knew you were smart.'

         'Pharmacy,' nodded Violet, 'I worked at the chemists down the road from the day I graduated, until the day I retired fifteen years ago.'