The whole outfit gave him away. Nobody just walked around in combat leathers and a high durability mask, let alone sported as many weapons as he did. But to hear it spelled out so blatantly was a bit annoying. This order giving would have to be nipped in the bud, the Soldier was the head of this particular mission.

God, wasn't that a scary thought, the Soldier shouldn't be the head of any mission.

There was no reason to be suspicious of that observation, though he was naturally on edge now because of whatever had changed. Every aspect of Rogers had shifted, right down to his body language and tone of voice, but it wasn't a puzzle that could be unpicked now.

So, almost reluctantly, the Soldier did as he was told. The mask came off, and the face beneath was blank, a hardness to the lines of it that spoke of long years of violence. Then the tactical vest, unveiling the arm, and finally his pants. The new clothes weren't ideal, too tight in the legs, but they'd have to do and so he pulled them on, slowly but surely.