"Peter Mitchell, Tom Kazansky. Hmm. Codenames 'Maverick' and 'Iceman.'"
"Yes, sir!"
Peter Mitchell, a medium-height man with black hair, dark eyes, and exceptionally handsome features, quickly answered.
His throat felt dry. His tongue shifted as he swallowed unconsciously, and he shot a quick sidelong glance at Kazansky, that "iceberg" of a man.
For the first time in his life, the young Navy pilot, Captain Mitchell, envied the man beside him, who seemed almost entirely devoid of emotion at all times.
The man before them was Steve Rogers—the living embodiment of Captain America from the comic books Mitchell's father had treasured since childhood, and the representative of the Order Whip, the organization that kept the world's superhuman forces in check.
But on his first meeting with Rogers, Mitchell couldn't help looking flustered and out of sorts. It hardly made him look cool.
Peter Mitchell glanced at the legendary, enormous silver-gray shield propped on the desk behind the man. Then, steeling himself, he continued:
".Those are our fighter call signs, sir. They sound a lot like Mutants' real names, don't they?"
Steve wore the Aerospace Force's dark gray uniform, not the Order Whip uniform or combat armor he'd worn in the past. Looking at the young man before him—somewhat impulsive, but not unpleasant—he found himself thinking of his days in the U.S. Army.
"Tell me why you questioned the tactical plan from the operations command. And while you do, think carefully about the consequences of disobeying orders."
"Iceman" Tom Kazansky's high nose and sharply defined features remained still; he stood at attention, gazing straight ahead without even blinking.
In response to the highest-ranking officer at the Aerospace Force Training Base, only his pale blue eyes flickered faintly.
Just as he was about to speak, "Maverick" Mitchell beside him jumped in, rattling off