When Tony learned that Steve had sent Soren to the East Asia combat zone for a rescue operation, he was enraged.
The nanotech Iron Man armor enveloped him, ready to chase after Soren and bring him back.
But Steve stopped him.
The ninety-year-old World War II veteran simply said, "You can't keep him in your protective bubble forever, Tony."
Tony's eyes widened with frustration, "Don't you understand that Superman will never give up trying to find him? Every second he spends outside the base could mean Superman taking him away! He could be in danger at any moment!"
"But he has already resolved to fight for everyone," Steve said with a deep gaze, "If you choose to go against his will just to ensure his safety... what's the difference between you and Superman?"
Steve's words immediately extinguished all of Tony's anger.
Tony calmed down.
He removed his armor and, after a moment of difficult deliberation, his face showed rare signs of conflict.
He looked at Steve again, exhaled heavily, anxiously walked around the lab, and finally slammed his fist onto the table.
In Tony Stark's body language dictionary, this was roughly equivalent to a sign of agreement.
"I can accept… accepting that you're sending him on missions," Tony said as he approached Steve. "But can you guarantee that he won't encounter danger?"
"We're all in danger, Tony," Steve explained, "As long as Superman controls this planet, we're all in danger. Risk is inevitable. But I believe he has enough self-preservation skills to ensure his safety; he's not as fragile as you think."
Tony scoffed. "Imagining? Am I imagining it? Haven't you—"
He took a deep breath, clearly reluctant to bring up the topic, but finally said, "Both you and I have witnessed Superman's power. I don't think you believe he can handle Superman."
Steve replied, "You're wrong. He is precisely Superman's Achilles' heel—" He thought for a moment, realizing that wasn't quite the right term, and corrected himself.
"Superman will be cautious of him; his presence will make Superman hesitant to act recklessly. But that's not the main reason. More importantly, I've assigned him a powerful teammate. I don't think they're as likely to 'encounter danger' as you suggest."
"Who?"
"Kong Kenan."
...
On the aircraft platform at the base, the blonde pilot looked at the three young people entering the cockpit behind him with a face as dark as asphalt.
He released the control stick with a look of utter disbelief. "Why is it you guys?"
Soren, seated in his chair, flashed a genuinely innocent smile at him. "What's the matter, Sergeant Fortman?"
Whitney ground his teeth in frustration. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
Peter Parker, noticing Whitney's impending breakdown, immediately straightened up, observing Whitney's actions and explaining for Soren, "This is the captain's arrangement!"
"Yeah, buddy, don't be so uptight. We're going to be working together often from now on," Kong Kenan added, joining in.
Soren nodded in agreement and extended a friendly hand to Whitney, "Our new name is the Crab Shell Squad. Hope we work well together, Sergeant Fortman."
Whitney: …
When did he agree to let them name the team 'Crab Shell Squad'?
It sounds ridiculously stupid!!
Whether Whitney liked it or not, their tiny squad was officially established.
The tasks Steve assigned to them were mostly around the Pacific Ring, with occasional missions into Central Asia to assist the main forces in eliminating Hydra remnants.
Since Professor X's disappearance, the Avengers had never stopped searching for Hydra's whereabouts, as all signs pointed to a connection between Hydra and Professor X's disappearance.
Professor X had unique abilities, and after the death of Mars Hunter, he was the last remaining mutant with telepathic powers.
He was crucial to any side.
The year was coming to a close.
It was 2018, the third year of Superman's rule over the world, and the third year of humanity's downfall.
After tonight, they would welcome the first day of 2019, the fourth year of Superman's reign.
There was no training tonight; everyone had a half-day break to spend the last day of the year.
Soren had spent the morning with his teammates in Alaska, investigating Hydra intel they had received.
By the time he returned to the base, he was covered in pine needles and leaf fragments from rolling around in the snow, with a patch of brown-gray grime smeared across his face.
He hurriedly shed his coat, tossing it into the dorm, and, dressed in an old fleece sweatshirt, ran to Batman's infirmary.
After several months of recovery, Bruce was now able to begin rehabilitation with the aid of a mechanical exoskeleton.
He and Tony had jointly developed this exoskeleton to assist him in walking and performing some physical movements.
However, despite being able to wear the device, Bruce's spinal nerves had suffered irreversible damage.
Achieving his former state with the support of this device would still take a considerable amount of time.
As Soren entered the infirmary, the faint redness from the sub-zero temperatures outside had yet to fade from his face, and his nose was flushed red, which made his skin look even whiter and more delicate.
Most of the room had been transformed by Bruce into a makeshift lab, with only a small portion outfitted with rehabilitation equipment like handrails.
As Soren walked in, he saw Bruce gripping the pull-up bar with both hands, attempting to perform pull-ups.
"Bruce, be careful!" Soren nearly had a heart attack and hurried over to grab two underarm crutches. "Don't be reckless! Get down, it's too dangerous, you could get hurt—"
Bruce's forehead was twitching with veins.
He was shirtless, his muscular arms well-defined, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist.
Even after months of less exercise, his chest muscles remained impressively firm.
The exoskeleton was attached to his back, resembling a black mechanical spine, connecting to the support structures on either side of his legs, allowing him to stand and walk independently.
He lowered his hands and pushed away the crutches Soren brought. "Move away."