RACING TOWARD THEIR FORTS, CONFIDENCE COURSING THROUGH THEIR VEINS LIKE ADRENALINE, Major l/n's crew was poised on the edge of triumph, assured of victory by the overwhelming odds stacked in their favor. Little did they know, fate had a far darker twist in store for them, lurking in the shadows of imminent danger, ready to shatter their illusions of invincibility with a brutal, unforgiving awakening. "We have a problem, Major." Sighed the bombardier, walking up to the self-proclaimed Dynamic Duo, as they exited the jeep, laughing all the way to the fortress, discussing about how they'd annihilate Hitler's delusional ass.
"What?" Bucky asked as they all marched their way to the B-17. "Bubbles... He's sick as a dog." The brunette answered, his voice tinged with concern, as he led the two inside. As they entered the plane, the sight that greeted them was not what they expected. There, huddled in a corner, was Bubbles, shivering and pale, clearly down with a terrible cold. "I can fly." The man chattered, not wanting to let his team down. "Oh, the hell you can." The raven rolled his eyes in annoyance before turning to the captain. "Who do we have?" He asked briskly as he awaited her decision. With a finger resting on her chin, y/n appeared deep in thought as she considered all options.
"Sheesh, Bubbles- You look like shit." Scoffed Crosby as he got out of his jeep, arriving about 15 minutes later. "Save the compliments." Bubbles retorted dryly, his voice strained from illness. "Here-" He added, reaching out to hand his friend the map, his determination unwavering despite his obvious discomfort. "We're leading the wing today." Informed the man. "What? I can't- I can't lead a wing, Bubbles..." Panicked the brunette, freezing dead in his tracks upon hear those words leave his mate's mouth. "You can lead a wing. It's just like any other mission." Assured the man.
