stardustly | general open post

Sam gestured to the jetpack on the ground, bulky and heavy enough that it could only be worn by someone with exceptional strength - like a super-soldier. It didn't look like much with the wings folded in on themselves for transport. "Stark came up with this crazy invention that lets someone fly on their own, without a plane. Can't carry anyone with me, but I can infiltrate from the air if necessary."

"They told me that using it was a suicide mission," he added with a wry smile. "Like it'd explode or I'd get shot out of the air, or maybe both. But they were keeping me Stateside in the labs, and I needed to get out. Stark gave me the chance I needed."

Regarding the jetpack in silence, he eventually gave a nod of his head as a few things clicked in his mind again. The whole having another supersoldier thing continued to disturb him because what if there were indeed others somewhere? It still opened up plenty of opportunities, regardless.

"Have you actually used it before?" Steve asked, wanting to make sure to have all the facts before making concrete plans. "There are a very raids coming up. We have good authority to believe things we need are there."

"I've used it before," he huffed, a little indignantly. Like he would have suggested just going in blind in a dangerous situation like a raid - that was the sort of thing that would get himself and his teammates killed. While there were plenty of officers who might have been willing to risk him, all things considered, Sam, at least, took care with his own life. "If you can think of a way to use it to your advantage, then I can do it."

Completely not phased by the indignation, he only gave a nod of his head. Okay, good, the skill set could come in very handy, especially considering no one else really possessed it on the Commandos. "Have you met the rest of the team?" he asked, even if he already knew the answer. "We can go there now and the briefing is going to happen after dinner for the first raid." The mere mention of it set his nerves on edge again because he worried about the outcome and the possible lives they might have to take for the greater good of bringing an ending to the war.

"Sounds like a plan," Sam agreed, calm once more. "I've read a lot about you guys; it'll be good to meet everyone in person." And he knew that they were assorted enough that they wouldn't immediately judge him by his skin, which would be a novel occurrence. Hell, he'd even seen another black man in the pictures, so he wouldn't be totally alone.

"Somehow," Sam added wryly, "none of my exploits ever made it into the papers." And he knew exactly why that was. He was sure Rogers could figure it out, too. Yeah, they could talk all they wanted about keeping him a secret from the Axis, about hiding the jetpack in case Stark came up with a design that would work for normal soldiers, but honestly? It was because of his race, plain and simple.

Oh, he picked up on the hint because he knew of their time period for one thing and how rampant some where about certain things like race, sexuality and even health vitality. The latter of which he dealt with and he would have faced worse if others knew of his preferences. They would probably strip him of his titles, serum or not. There were just certain things no one could speak of but Sam faced far worse. He couldn't just not speak on something and hope for the best.

"Sometimes I wish nothing made it into the papers," he responded as he waved a hand for Sam to follow him to where the others would be. "Whatever you read about me was probably overdone."

"Yeah, well, the war machine runs on propaganda." Sam grinned at him, a little wryly. "Expect you know that, what with all those defense bonds you sold. They might not like having their poster boy in harm's way, but you make for damn good publicity. You raise the morale here and back home."

Nobody gave a damn about the morale of black troops, or anything else. Sam knew that all too well.

"Can't believe most of what you read in the papers anyway. It's better for intelligence to be as vague as possible about what's going on over here. So if they make shit up about your heroic acts, it's a better smokescreen for what's really going on, way I see it."

Thanks Sam, he wanted to try and forget about the war defense bonds and the productions he needed to put on to sell them. Not exactly soldier ready training there but he didn't really need much in the way of boot camp. The serum took care of plenty and he knew he had a lot to live up for and towards. They wanted an army of supersoldiers, after all, and ended up with just him.

"You've got an outlook about it I haven't heard much around here. You might make it out the other side of this not too worse for wear," Steve responded, smiling faintly. "Come on, let's go meet the rest of the team together and after that I want to see some of what you can do. It'll help with the mission objectives."

"Yeah, well, you gotta be optimistic about things sometimes. If you act like the worst is gonna happen, then you're just inviting it in." Optimism hadn't kept him from being experimented on by the government, but at this point, he was just trying to make the best of what he had.

"Sure thing," Sam agreed, hefting the pack with his gear in it. It was heavy enough that only another super-soldier would have been able to carry it for any distance. "It'll be easier if we don't have to come back to the tent," he explained. "Lead the way, Captain."

"You would be good for some motivational speeches," Steve responded with a half smile. "A lot of the guys find it hard to keep holding on to things like that." Anyone in a war zone would understand, of course, especially in the most bleak moments.

Eyeing the gear for a moment, he wondered if it would also be use as a symbol of sorts for Sam. To show that yes indeed there were two super soldiers around. Rather than comment on it, he led the way to the Commandos, entering a tent, which anyone could hear all across the base. They would need to quiet down soon but not yet.

"Everyone, this is Sam Wilson, he's going to be joining our group here," Steve announced, deciding to let the other man tell what he wanted to.

"I leave the public speaking to my father." Sam grinned wryly. "He's a preacher back home. Guess some of his outlook rubbed off on me." If not his religion, but that wasn't relevant.

Sam entered the tent behind Steve and gave the other Commandos a friendly wave as Steve introduced him. "I've got these wings here that Mr. Stark whipped up," he explained, gesturing to the gear he carried. It didn't look like much, stashed in what looked like oversized suitcases, but that was the idea. "What I do is fly, except I'm a lot quieter than any plane, and I can take off and land anywhere. Hopefully that means I can be of some practical use with what you all are doing out in the field." He omitted anything about the serum; he didn't want to explain what the government had done to him, not to a bunch of (mostly) white men. He'd told Steve because it was necessary, but Sam planned to keep it under wraps.

The Commandos, of course, were very interested in the wings and with Sam in general. There were dozens of questions called out, some serious like height limitations on where Sam could fly and other not so serious on if he ever used the wings for other purposes. The less serious questions earned the patent Rogers displeased face, which a few of them heeded once they witnessed it and stuck to the more serious questions. A few did not as expected but they all yanked at one another's chains. It kept a kind of sanity against the rest of the world.

Letting out a breath, Steve held up a hand. "I think Sam has answered enough now. Why don't we get a drink first before we start getting into what we need to do for tomorrow?"

Sam answered the questions tossed at him easily, even the less serious ones. He had a laid-back, joking manner that made people feel comfortable around him, and it was apparent that he'd fit right in with the Commandos soon enough. He even took the wings out of their carrying gear and spread one open across the table in the mess to show the others - though he didn't know the answers to most of the technical questions they had about how they worked, he did the best he could. (Probably most of the things he couldn't answer were Howard Stark's secrets, anyway.)

"Yeah, all right, I could go for a drink," Sam replied easily. Not that he could get drunk anymore - he'd tried once or twice - but it was still enjoyable enough having a drink with friends. "And maybe something to eat, if you still got anything around. No need to whip up something fresh on my account." If not, he could always resort to a can of rations. He didn't want to impose on whoever the cook was around here.

The other men trailed out in the direction of one of the local taverns where they set up a few days prior. "There's food where we're going. Enough even for us." They always needed a lot of food overall but things were rough when they could only resort to rations. "Have you gotten used to not eating much when you need to?" Steve asked as they walked, eyes drifting onto Sam for a moment. "I'm sorry if I ask too much. I'm still not used to this." For so long, he believed he had been the only super soldier.

They arrived at the tavern, only filled with soldiers, nurses and the like. It had been abandoned until they fixed it up. A kind of morale with how down everyone had been lately. It probably wasted time in some eyes but not for Steve at all. It kept the spirits up and they needed it to help with winning the war.

"Way things were back home, it's not like having enough food was exactly normal," Sam offered wryly. He knew what Steve was talking about, though - that it was different with a super-soldier's metabolism. "I'm pretty good at stretching food out if I have just a little bit to add to rations." Not to mention killing whatever meat presented itself; Sam hadn't gone into this knowing a damn thing about how to skin and clean animals, but he'd learned fast.

"Don't worry about it." He waved his concerns off. "I'm just not exactly used to talking about it, that's all." It wasn't his favorite subject in the world, but he was willing to deal with it.

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