Marvel: Summoning Xandar.

~~~Brooklyn, New York~~~

~~~January 30, 1943~~~

The situation in the big cities of the United States was somewhat complicated, although the weight of the war was not felt so much, still the air felt heavy, as if of being watched by a predator constantly. Fortunately, it was nowhere near what people in Europe experienced, where a bombing raid was at its peak, London being a great example.

That's why, even under a war, people felt somewhat safe to go about their daily routines as much as they could, which caused Steve to take comfort, having arrived in his hometown and noticed it was still the same.

"In that alley, I got hit once," Steve's words reached Isaiah's ears, they were both in a car that was taking them to the place where they would meet their team, the Howling Commandos, which were in a strong house in the city, as they had no one to lead them and as the SSR had not been interested in them so far. So they took the opportunity to get some rest.

Or at least that was the way it was until now.

"This is the fifth one we went through. Apparently, life has hit you hard," Isaiah said politely, though with a teasing tone, which caused Steve to chuckle. Well, when you have the body that I do, and you're someone who stands up to tribulations head-on, it doesn't end very well, shall we say?"

"Well, that changed, you have to accept it, we are at war now, you are no longer the thin man I knew on Xandar, you are now a force of nature, and you must be prepared to create earthquakes and gales when the time is right," Isaiah, an African American man who had lived through the worst the western world had to offer, did not give happy and colorful advice but began to prepare Steve for what the world could throw at him.

"I'd rather be the river that brings cool water to those who are thirsty, the tree for those who have no shade, breeze for those who are dying of heat," Steve said in a whisper, as he watched the houses go by out the car window, Isaiah still heard what Steve said because of his acute hearing, which caused him to snort.

"That's a poignant thought, one that doesn't fit this world, or at least not now, with crazies at the helm of this war, you have to be even crazier to stop them, and even if you don't want to, you'll have to be at some point." Steve was silent at Isaiah's words, he agreed with that, but his moral convictions kept him from becoming a monster.

"Gentlemen, we have arrived," the chauffeur driving them raised his voice, stopping the car in front of a three-story French-style house. "Thank you," Steve didn't want to be in the vehicle any longer, so he thanked the driver and got out of the car, approaching the house.

"Hello, what can I get you?" An elderly lady opened the door to the front desk, looking confused at Steve, "I'm here to see the Howling Commandos, I'm Steve Rogers." But the comment only made the lady even more confused, she even looked at Steve like he was crazy, "You are mistaken sir, I am going to ask you to leave or I will have to call the authorities."

"Oslo at this time of year is very cold," Isaiah's somewhat grumpy voice was soon heard, having reached the door, "luckily we're not there," the lady replied, turning serious and opening the door all the way, letting Isaiah and Steve, who was somewhat self-conscious about not knowing the code, through.

Once inside, the interior of the house greeted them, it looked like an ordinary homely house, or at least that was until the lady touched a hidden button, that a bookcase opened, revealing a passageway, "they are waiting for you gentlemen," the lady said politely, waiting for them to enter.

They both did as the lady told them and entered the hallway and moments later, the counter closed, sealing the passageway. The two walked a few seconds until they exited, observing a different scene than before, agents were moving around, some were sitting in lobbies while receiving coded messages, and some others, who must be the Howling Commandos, were sitting in what appeared to be a mini bar.

Without further ado, the two approached the place, noticing eight people, with Isaiah naming each of them, "Alexander McQueen, Wilson Oslo, Frederick Bundchen, Timothy Harlow, Stefan Brooks, Louis Litt, Rachel Paulsen, and Gina Torres."

The appointees stopped what they were doing and looked at the two newcomers, inspecting their physiques and appearances, as they continued to sip their shots of whiskey or vodka, "what do you two want?" Rachel, one of the two women in the group, was the first to speak, with a bored look on her face and narrowed eyes.

"I am Colonel Isaiah Bradley," the moment he said that all eight of them stood up and made a military salute, standing stiffly, "at ease." With Isaiah's command, they left their postures, but did not relax again, "And this is my partner, Captain Rogers, together we have been put in charge as your managers, you will be under our orders and will follow them to the letter to accomplish what you have asked of us."

The eight looked at each other with serious countenances, assuming that their break was over and that it was time to return to the battlefield, "what would that be colonel?" Louis asked, referring to what he had been asked to accomplish by Isaiah and Steve.

"Win this damn war once and for all," Isaiah replied, receiving a scowl from Steve due to the use of bad language. "Forgive me for asking, but how do you think we're going to do that?" Alexander, the oldest of the group, inquired with a grimace on his face, though part of it was due to a large scar running halfway down his face, and down to his lip, at first glance, he appeared to be wearing a cackling grin.

"Because there are the two of us with you now," was Steve's simple reply, which made the man frown even more, having survived countless battles in the Pacific and in the trenches of Italy, made him a typical and very rough soldier, and seeing that one of his now commanding officers was no older than his son's age, only made him angry, as he felt that those in command did not treat them with the proper seriousness.

In war, the word young was synonymous with city boy, novice and inexperienced, and seeing that one of them would give him orders, well-made him want to shoot himself in the foot. The others showed no expression, but no doubt they were thinking the same thing, and Isaiah noticed that.

Without warning, he approached the bar where they had been drinking before and then took a bottle of rum and broke it. The glass shattered, leaving Isaiah with the top of the bottle in his hand, while sharp spikes remained due to the breaking of the glass.

Between approaching the bar, and breaking the bottle, it only took less than a little over his second, leaving the squadron a little stunned because they didn't notice at what point he moved, and only heard the sound of the bottle breaking, but then what they saw left them with even more questions.

Isaiah was not finished with his demonstration and, in front of everyone, he took the bottle and stabbed his left arm with the sharp side of the broken bottle, and the result was as expected for him, more surprising for the others.

The glass cracked and shattered the moment it made contact with Isaiah's skin, leaving only a few shards on his hand where the neck of the bottle had once been, as for his skin, it was still gleaming and without any imperfection, no wounds.

"What?"

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Of course I am, you think I don't have eyes?!"

The exclamations of surprise and amazement were not long in coming, they had all seen horrors that only war could bring about, but this, that someone would come out unscathed after cutting themselves with glass was something new, something almost magical.

"Spram!"

If they were doubtful of what they had seen before, what Steve did manage to send their common sense of normal down the drain, looking at both Steve and Isaiah as monsters and not normal people. "Steve Rogers!" Isaiah scolded Steve as he saw what Steve had done.

"What, did I overdo it?" he replied, scratching the back of his head, as he saw how the previous marble bar of the minibar was now broken in half, with broken glasses and bottles on the floor, due to Steve, also wanting to show his power, decided to hit the bar, this being the result gently.

"You see?" Isaiah again got the group's attention, "With us, you have nothing to fear, we'll make Hitler our bitch."