Mud splashed up by the wheels coated the car windows.
Soldiers at the Allied Forces frontline headquarters were hurrying about.
Their faces wore a suppressed tension; even the backfire of a truck engine made them instinctively shrink their necks.
Phillips looked even paler than the map on his desk.
He seemed to have aged ten years overnight.
Seeing Lynn and Peggy Carter get out of the jeep, he looked as if he had grabbed the last straw of hope, almost jogging over to meet them.
"You finally arrived."
Lynn looked around; the camp was in a mess.
An irregular hole had been smashed into the wall of a barracks, which several engineers were repairing.
Not far away, a Willys jeep twisted into a pretzel was carelessly discarded in a corner, its shape possessing quite a post-modern violent aesthetic.
"It seems our God of War is in a bad mood."
Phillips gave a wry smile; his hand trembled as he lit his cigarette, the match striking several times before it finally caught.
"Bad mood? He nearly tore my headquarters apart! Now no one dares to get within fifty meters of him; the mess cook has to leave the tray at the door and run away."
He lowered his voice and leaned into Lynn's ear, the scent of tobacco mixed with anxiety wafting out.
"He has locked himself in the barracks and won't see anyone. All our operational plans have stalled because of this. Lynn, you must..."
Lynn raised his hand to interrupt him.
"Colonel, he is a weapon, not your soldier. When dealing with a weapon, you need an instruction manual, not orders."
Having said that, he ignored Phillips and walked straight toward the isolated barracks.
Peggy Carter followed behind him, her hand instinctively resting on the pistol at her waist, her expression grave.
The closer they got to the barracks, the quieter the air became.
The barracks door was left slightly ajar.
Lynn signaled for Peggy not to come in, then pushed the door open and entered.
The room was in disarray.
Expensive furniture had been smashed into pieces.
The map hanging on the wall was shredded by a sharp weapon, and empty liquor bottles were scattered on the floor.
Soldier Boy was sitting on the only remaining chair, his back to the door.
He was playing a game of stabbing a captured German Army dagger between his fingers at high speed.
The blade tip darted frantically between the wooden table and his splayed palm, making a dense "thud-thud" sound.
"Cling~"
The dagger stabbed the back of his hand, the sharp tip slicing directly into it.
"You finally came."
Soldier Boy tossed the dagger aside and turned around.
"I thought you were going to wait until that actor in the spandex suit finished his tour of all of Europe before you remembered this old weapon you tossed on the front lines."
Every word he spoke was heavy with resentment.
Lynn ignored his mockery.
He walked to the table, ignoring him, and tossed a rolled-up copy of The Stars and Stripes onto it.
As the newspaper unfurled, the front-page headline featured a huge photo of Steve holding up a microphone at Independence Square in Philadelphia, accepting the cheers of the masses.
That smile was blindingly bright.
Soldier Boy slammed his fist onto the table.
"Bang!"
"Are you using this to humiliate me?"
"Or do you think I have too good a temper?"
Lynn extended a finger.
"Look at the supplement."
Soldier Boy's movements froze.
He lowered his head suspiciously.
His gaze shifted from the glaring front-page photo to the other side of the paper.
The headline was written in bold, black type: "The Forgotten Hero: Who Still Remembers Soldier Boy, Who Faced the Demons Alone in Puppet Town?"
The content of the article was short.
Yet the writing was filled with mystery and awe.
It did not describe the battle process in detail.
It simply told, in a tone bordering on legendary, how a lonely God of War had single-handedly purged an entire town occupied by demons in a corner forgotten by the world.
"...While Captain America enjoys flowers and applause under the spotlight, another true hero is walking on the edge of hell, keeping company with horrors that mortals cannot comprehend."
"His achievements will not be written into songs, and his stories will not be brought to the stage. Because mortals cannot understand the battles of gods, let alone look directly into the horror of the abyss."
"His name will only be repeated in the nightmares of the HYDRA high command, becoming a source of fear they cannot shake off."
Soldier Boy read it word for word.
The rage burning in his chest from jealousy was subsiding at a visible rate.
"Now, do you understand?"
Lynn's voice sounded in his ear.
"Captain America is an idol, a mascot for the civilians in the rear who need hope. Idols are meant to be consumed; today they can lift him to the heavens, and tomorrow they can trample him into the mud over some trivial matter."
Lynn walked to his side and stood shoulder to shoulder with him.
"And you, are a legend."
"Legends don't need the cheers of the masses, nor do they need media exposure. Legends are only passed on by word of mouth among the few, and appear in the nightmares of enemies."
"Your value is not measured by how many war bonds you've sold. It is defined by how many enemies you keep awake at night and how many allies you inspire with awe."
Soldier Boy did not speak.
He looked at the short article in the newspaper, then looked at the smiling Captain America on the front page.
A sense of superiority welled up within him.
That's right.
Only monkeys need to perform somersaults in front of people to win applause.
A true lion only needs to occasionally let out a roar in its own territory to make all the beasts submit.
The humiliation and anger in his chest that had nowhere to go found a vent that allowed him to feel at ease.
"Heh..."
An indistinct low laugh emanated from Soldier Boy's throat.
The rage on his face had faded, replaced by a cruelty tinged with pride.
"That stage is indeed too small."
He picked up the newspaper and, right in front of Lynn, tore off the front page featuring Captain America, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into the fireplace.
Flames leaped up, swallowing that bright smile.
But he kept the supplement.
Soldier Boy turned around and sat back down on the chair.
"What kind of new stage have you prepared for me this time?"
"A stage worthy of you."
A smile finally appeared on Lynn's face.
"A stage built for you from the bones of high-ranking HYDRA officers and the fear of all of Germany."
Having said this, Lynn turned and walked out of the barracks, leaving Soldier Boy with a back view that filled him with immense anticipation.
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