(the following story is based in 1952, when Agent Red was 20 years of age and just beginning to realize he was different from most other people)
ORIGINS: AGENT RED
The scene began late one night in a 1950s suburb with several figures dressed in trenchcoats and hats gathered in a circle and exchanged notes with one another as black cars pulled up and waited nearby.
"Alright comrades, you all know what to do.." a clearly Russian voice noted as the figures nodded and began to depart, only to stop as a lone figure dressed in a red trenchcoat appeared.
"Who is that?" one of the figures asked.
"I don't know - this wasn't part of the plan.." a second figure exclaimed.
"Don't worry about him, comrade - simply get in the car and leave the rest to me.." the Russian said calmly.
Sure enough the figures did as they they were told and the black cars drove off, the figure in the red trenchcoat finally coming to a stop as he stared out at the now lone Russian.
"You shouldn't of come here - yet I understand why you did.. you and I aren't so different: we both have a loyalty to our country.. it is a pity yours will soon fall.." the Russian said coldly.
"I'm not here about National pride, I'm here about the bombs you are planning on setting off in civilian homes.." the figure in the red trenchcoat replied.
"Oh? Tell me something comrade - do you think you can stop us? those cars you saw just now are delivering my men to homes across the area.. each one equipped with a briefcase filled with explosives.." the Russian said.
"Actually.. they aren't.." the figure in the red trenchcoat replied.
"What?" the Russian began.
"You got clumsy, I managed to switch the explosives with blanks before your men caught on.." the figure in the red trenchcoat explained.
"You are bluffing.." the Russian stated.
"I don't bluff.." the figure in the red trenchcoat replied.
As if on cue a radio soon plays to the Russian "..sir!? do you read!? something's went wrong - the explosives are gone! sir!?".
The Russian stood in place for a moment, his face growing dark with anger as he looked over to the figure in the red trenchcoat.
"You shouldn't of done that, comrade.. I was going to let you go.. now you leave me no choice but to beat you into a pulp like the dog you are!".
With that the Russian flew forward and swung his fists at the figure in the red trenchcoat, who responded in turn by dodging the attack and pummelling into the figure.
The two figures began to fight with inhuman aggression on the streets, neither one of them seeming to be gaining on the other - upon noticing this the Russian grinned somewhat as he eyed the figure in the red trenchcoat.
"Ah.. so you are special too? I told you comrade, you and I aren't so different..".
"We're different enough.." the figure in the red trenchcoat replied as he swept the other figure to the ground and pinned him down.
However the Russian quickly drew a knife and stabbed the figure in the red trenchcoat in the waist, causing him to back away in pain - the Russian grinning further as he pulled the knife out and watched as the other man fell to his knees, clutching the wound.
"You'll heal soon enough comrade, if you truly are what I think you are..".
"W-what's that meant to mean!?" the figure in the red trenchcoat began.
"Oh come now, don't tell me you haven't noticed yet - you're immortal.. like me.. sure we can die.. like if I was to stab your puny heart.. yet we don't age.. back home they call me Gravestone, because I have lived long enough to see the graves of many men.." the Russian explained.
"You're insane.." the figure in the red trenchcoat spat as he shakily got to his feet only to fall down as Gravestone delivered a swift kick to his already injured waist.
"I was born in 1918, when Mother Russia was still young - I grew to see her power increase.. even now I dedicate myself to her.. 34 years comrade.. yet I still feel as young as I did when I was 20.. you're still young.. I can tell that much.. you will learn just as I did.. what true power is..".
"..I'll never be like you.." the figure in the red trenchcoat said defiantly as he lay on the ground.
"Of course not, I am strong comrade.. while you are still a child.. we will never be the same - however, with time, perhaps you will start to see things my way.. when you do feel free to call me.. we will never be friends, you and I.. that doesn't mean we can't work together someday.." Gravestone said, tossing a small piece of paper on the ground by his fallen opponent as he walked off into the night.
The figure in the red trenchcoat watched as Gravestone left and reached over, taking the piece of paper in one hand before he passed out - the sound of distant sirens filling he air.
The following day the figure in the red trenchcoat awoke in a hospital ward, minus his trenchcoat or hat - several doctors and nurses tending to him as a discussion was held outside, apparently those in question either didn't know he could hear them or simply didn't care.
"Do we have any idea who this person is? We don't have anything.."
"We've tried everything and we're getting nothing - no friends, no family and no records.."
"Do we even have an age?"
"Early 20s at best.."
"We'd better start filing up a report, the police are already concerned.."
"Can you blame them? a man in a trenchcoat found beaten and stabbed not far from a suburban community?"
The figure sighed and turned away slightly, the voices draining away as he looked out of the hospital window - seeing blue skies and children playing in a nearby park.
"He's awake.. sir? excuse me - sir?" a voice spoke up, interupting the viewing as a young doctor looked over.
"I'm Doctor Long, you are going to be alright - I just need you to tell me your name.. please..".
The figure simply stared out for a few moments, thinking back on everything that had happened that night and he took in a deep breath before replying:
"My name is.. Red... Agent Red..".