"You're awake."
In a dark room, a middle-aged Black man in a black leather jacket spoke to the bandaged figure on the bed. The latter's injuries were severe; blood had soaked through the bandages and into the mattress.
After a brief daze, the wounded man suddenly sat up and, as if crazed, dragged a tangle of instrument wires around as he lurched through the room.
"Where are my wife and children?"
The one-eyed Black man watched for a while, standing in place with his hands behind his back until the other man calmed down slightly. "You can probably guess, can't you? You faced the spray of dozens of submachine guns at such close range. The only reason I managed to save you was your luck and a secret project."
The wounded man fell silent, clenching his fists tightly. He remembered now.
At Fury's request, he had led a squad into South America to rescue Tony Stark.
But that rich second-generation kid had some skills after all. Somehow, he had escaped on his own and perfectly missed the squad Frank had led.
When Tony returned to New York and held a press conference, that search team was still in the rainforest.
Still, the mission had been completed. He had gone home on leave to rest for a while. As one of the military's top soldiers, he often traveled the world on missions and rarely spent time with his family, so he had decided to take them on an outdoor picnic in New Jersey.
The whole family had been happy then. He loved his wife and children dearly. Seeing them laugh so happily by his side made him feel that his constant killing of enemies across the globe had meaning.
But during the picnic, his wife and children had accidentally witnessed a