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Issue #11 by Steve Crosby
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“BODY SHOP”
There are two kinds of people in the world who set themselves to a pattern of activity: those who aren’t aware of how vulnerable it makes them, and those who are aware but don’t worry about that. Steve Rogers was one of those men who didn’t worry. He knew that ever since revealing Captain America’s face to the world that the wrong sorts of people would come after him; already had in fact. But he wasn’t the sort who ran and hid from everything, and so he lived life like always. Just with a little more awareness.
Nothing in Captain America’s kitchen needed to be cooked or otherwise prepared. Everything was ready-to-eat and non-perishable, for a man who often ate on the run. It was that and eating out, stopping at food stands and deli counters for a quick meal. Every morning while he was at home this is what Steve Rogers did, taking some food bars when going on his run, stopping at the diner near his apartment for a post-run breakfast. On the way into the diner, Steve would pick up the morning paper, read it as he ate.
Every morning, and anybody who watched Steve Rogers would have known this. However, no matter how good they were, Captain America always saw them watching.
Everybody inside the diner knew Captain America’s face, and now he knew all of theirs. Some small greetings, a quick chat with a waitress, and Steve Rogers sat down to eat. He didn’t have a menu, the order was standing. Eggs, toast, fruit, large glass of orange juice and small glass of milk. No cereal or heavy meats. If necessary Steve could eat fast, and the eggs he always did. The rest went slowly, nibbled as he glanced through the paper.
Local news was to be expected. Resignation of U.S. Representative. Captain America was sorry he hadn’t been there to help Jack Flagg, but all things considered the situation had been handled as best it could. As for the reason Captain America had been away, that was front page news as though mocking him. Flagsmasher, out of costume and meeting with several high-ranking foreign officials. Eventually, Captain America would find a way to expose the man as the terrorist he really was, and maybe beat the location of Nomad out of him in the process.
Nomad. Jack Monroe had been manipulated enough in his life, and HYDRA was likely doing it to him again. Captain America didn’t want to think about what the next encounter would be like, and fortunately a distraction fired at him from the rooftop.
The chkk of glass breaking wasn’t Captain America’s warning, thankfully. It was actually the sound of glass cracking, because the bullet had impacted against the specialized pane Captain America had asked the diner to install and had paid for himself. Grabbing the extra plate that was always part of Steve Rogers’ order, Captain America jumped to his feet.
“Everybody down!” Captain America cried as he threw his body against the window. It had been installed specifically to pop out from the inside, and fell to the pavement with a clatter. Captain America leapt into the open street, locked eyes with the rooftop sniper, and threw his breakfast plate.
What happened next was to be predicted, yet somehow contained a surprise. Bent over his rifle, the sniper was struck high on the forehead. The surprise was that the impact made his head explode. Captain America took an involuntary step back at the sight of smoke and flames bursting out of a man’s head. There he had been planning to just stun the man, buy himself time to climb the building and reach the room before his attacker could recover.
In that respect at least, the plan still happened. Captain America pulled himself onto the roof. Pieces of ceramic broke underneath his boots. Close up, Captain America saw that his attacker’s head was sparking from exposed circuitry. It’d been a machine.
Soon the police were on the scene, led by a detective whom Captain America was familiar with. Detective Paul Hall shook his head at the sight of a headless robot being carted away by federal agents, who had arrived less than a minute before the police.
“So, how many times has this been, the past year?” the detective asked Captain America. “First there was that fiery nut, then some crazed guy tried to blow up your building. Both of those were cleaned up by the Feds too. Now we’ve got this, a damned robot.”
Not just any robot, Captain America knew. One of Machinesmith’s. A brilliant robotics engineer, Starr Saxon had nearly died in a fall, had only been saved when his robotic creations downloaded his mind into a computer. Driven mad by the experience, Machinesmith had become suicidal. Captain America had been maneuvered into destroying the computer, unaware of its true purpose. The bulk of Machinesmith’s mind, his soul perhaps, had died that day. But other pieces remained, trapped inside robotic shells that either craved revenge on Captain America or still desired the ultimate end.
But he wasn’t about to say any of this to Detective Hall. “The smarter ones know not to risk themselves. Maybe they’re just seeing how well I’m prepared.”
“So now they know. Does this mean something bigger will come next?”
“If it does, then I’ll deal with that too,” Captain America said. “If there’s nothing else, detective, I’d like to go home.”
“There is, actually,” said the detective. “People are tearing up this neighborhood because of a grudge against you.”
There were a number of arguments Captain America could have used. But was there really a point? Setting the debate aside, Captain America instead said, “Actually, I’ll need to see about having that glass pane replaced.”
“Lucky for you nothing heavier was used. That nobody’s been hurt so far in your little private war.”
Again, Captain America didn’t debate. “Detective.” He walked away from the man, back into the diner to settle up.
# # # # #
Hours later, Captain America had returned his apartment. His whole building actually, still vacant except for his private living space. The Fantastic Four didn’t have the same problem occupying the Baxter Building, but then people in Manhattan were more used to super-heroes. Brooklyn was different, a largely residential area full of working folks, with much fewer targets for the greedy or the glory-seeking. Sure, many of the usual crimes had gone down largely due to Captain America’s presence, but those were less profile, the sort of things the average citizen didn’t hear about anyway. Masked criminals and near-terrorist attacks were another thing entirely, much more noticeable, and many associated them to Captain America.
By far the biggest change Captain America had had to deal with since going public, however, was the mail. It used to be that the massive sacks of mail were delivered to Avengers Mansion. Not anymore, and that was a major reason for the move. His building had a secure mail drop, virtually impossible to break into and large enough to hold Santa Claus’ mail at Christmas time.
Inside his apartment, Captain America went to the door that connected to his mail drop and opened it, as he did every morning when possible. Today was better than usual, as only a few dozen letters and packages spilled out. Captain America sighed. At the mansion, there were secretaries on staff to handle the mail. Maybe Captain America should get a personal assistant, somebody to help deal with this aspect of the solo-hero lifestyle.
Glancing at the envelopes, Captain America saw that many were solicitations of one form or another. Setting these aside, Captain America sorted through the more contemporary letters, reading the Return Addresses. Three were obvious aliases, two came from Camp Leheigh where Steve Rogers had briefly trained during World War II, and one name was an anagram of the Red Skull’s real name Johann Schmidt. A personal assistant trained in HazMat and explosives, Captain America decided.
One letter stood out to Captain America. The address was from a hospital, cancer ward. The name had no title, so a patient. Curious but still cautious, Captain America opened the letter and started to read. Three sentences in, he knew that something was very, very wrong.
# # # # #
The door that said “Alias Investigations” on the window was locked, and nobody was answering Captain America’s knocks. He checked his watch, normal operating hours. Nobody had answered the phone at the office or her home, so perhaps Jessica was out working a case. Doesn’t explain why she hadn’t answered her cell phone, however.
A door at the far end of the hall opened, and Captain America turned to see a young man emerging from the stairwell. His hair was dyed in several colors, and there were piercings on his face. Captain America recognized him as an employee for Jessica Jones.
“Excuse me.” Captain America extended a hand as the young man approached. “Hi, I’m Steve. Is Ms. Jones in? I was hoping to speak with her, maybe hire her for an investigation.”
The young man looked at the hand, looked up at the face. “Rogers. You’re Steve Rogers, right? Captain America?”
“Well, yes, but this isn’t for-”
But the young man walked right past Captain America. “Get lost. We don’t want any of your phony preaching around here.”
“Excuse me?”
“American dream and all that bull.” Another word was said, but Captain America chose not to hear it. At least the young man was unlocking that door. “Same stuff my gramps used to talk about, almost as often as he bragged about some time you saved his life. Well, I looked that up, and you were never anywhere he’d been stationed.”
So, the young man thinks his grandfather made up war stories, and now he was anti-authority. Made sense he’d be working for Jessica then, considering what she’d been through and was about. Captain America didn’t bother to counter that he was in a lot of places that hadn’t been recorded. Not knowing about the man’s grandfather, that could have easily blown up in his face. Instead he followed close, and put his hand up to prevent the young man closing the door behind him.
“Where’s Jessica?”
“Don’t know.” He turned and looked at Captain America with eyes of…not hostility, but a clear annoyance. “Guess you’ll have to go find somebody else to team up with for your little beat down. Like you, I’m not the boss of Jessica, always knowing where she-”
From the next room, a toilet could be heard flushing.
“Well, okay, right now I know that she’s in the bathroom. But it’s not like she texts me every time she takes a-”
The bathroom door opened, and Jessica Jones came storming out. “What the hell are you doing here?” she screamed angrily. It wasn’t Captain America that she addressed, but the young man.
“You gave me a key,” he said, holding up said key.
“Once, for an emergency. Which I took back right after.” Jessica held out her hand. “Give me the damned copy, and get the hell out.”
Dejected, the young man did what he was told, dropping the key into Jessica’s waiting palm. But as he turned to leave, he looked Captain America up and down. “Sure you don’t want any help throwing out red, white and lame here?”
“Nope. Get out.”
“Damned straight, Jessica.” The young man rapped a fist against his chest. “Don’t need any help dealing with anything, let alone some military poster-boy who’s always making the guys with actual powers do the heavy lifting for him. Catch you on the sidewalk after she dumps you out the window,” he snipped at Captain America while storming out the door.
Alone, Captain America turned to Jessica. “Colorful guy. A fan of yours.”
“Apparently I’m big online.” Jessica sat down behind her desk and lit up a cigarette. “You had better turn around and follow him, because that window suggestion is sounding better by the second.”
“There’s actually something I wanted your help with.” From his jacket pocket, Captain America pulled out the letter and set it on Jessica’s desk. “A little boy I want to ask about, but given my profile I thought it’d be best if-”
“Not going to happen.” Jessica picked up the letter and threw it at Captain America’s face. It struck him and fluttered briefly before he could grab it. “You and me, we’re done. So get the hell out.”
“If this is about what happened with Catherine and Jack…?” Captain America started. While he’d been abroad, Jack Flagg had gotten himself into trouble and Free Spirit had hired Jessica to help her help him. Things had gone bad, with Jessica and Free Spirit finding themselves under a villain’s control.
“No, that was as much my fault as anyone else.” The look Jessica was giving Captain America could have thrown him back into suspended animation. “But after your SHIELD friends pulled my ass out of trouble-”
“They weren’t my friends. Jack’s brother had called them.”
“I had a little chat with your ex,” Jessica kept right on saying as though Captain America hadn’t interrupted. “About your brother Mike and his brother Grant who apparently had also died at Pearl Harbor.”
Captain America couldn’t hold back the sigh. “Jessica, a lot has gone on in my head over the years. False memories were implanted, some real memories had gotten blocked out.”
“But you knew this was false.” Jessica made a back and forth motion with her hand, indicating a connection between them. “You knew I wasn’t…it was all just a goddamned lie. So get the hell out.”
Realizing there was nothing he could say, Captain America turned and started for the door. But in the doorway, the knob in his hand and turning, he couldn’t help it. “Yeah, I know it wasn’t real. But I still remember Mike, still feel something knowing he’s gone.” He risked a glance over his shoulder at Jessica. “It was still nice, pretending like I had real family.”
“Feels awful knowing it was just crap, huh?” asked Jessica vindictively.
With a sad nod, Captain America opened the door and left.
# # # # #
For the second time in as many days, Steve Rogers walked out of a building having accomplished absolutely nothing. The hospital hadn’t given him any information about the boy, including his home address or the parents’ names. The real shame, Steve thought as he read through the letter again, was that he didn’t really need the hospital to cooperate. Enough information was in the letter that Captain America could track the boy down on his own.
Still, Captain America reflected as he took out his cell phone, at least this way no hospital personnel would get into trouble. “Drake,” Captain America said into the phone, “I need your help with something.”
It’s easy enough to request information over the phone, but receiving it requires a different approach. Captain America preferred to do things face-to-face, and later met with Drake’s brother Jack Flagg. There were some things the two men had to discuss anyway.
“Here’s the information you asked for,” Jack said as he slid the folded sheets of paper across the table. “Drake said there were some interesting things there, and he’ll be expecting your call soon.”
“I don’t like it already,” responded Steve as he pocketed the sheets. “Thanks, Jack. I’m glad to see that you and Drake are still okay.”
“Turns out his calling SHIELD saved my life. Thinking I could handle things alone was the real mistake. Still, I wish that somehow things could have ended differently.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help. But, regrettably, the outcome would have likely been the same,” said Captain America, referring to the U.S. Representative’s resignation. “You know this, Jack.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jack admitted. “It’s just not right, you know, how little it can take to destroy a man’s career.”
Purple Man had used his powers of manipulation to make the representative kill a woman. Hardly a little thing, but Captain America said nothing. “Are you having luck finding a new job?” Jack Flagg had previously worked in the representative’s office.
“I’ve been getting some offers. None from anybody I’d actually want to work for, though.” Hesitant, Jack added, “Steve, have you wondered about running?”
Somehow, the question didn’t come as a surprise to Captain America. “Jack, you know I declined an offer to run for-”
“President. Yeah, I know. But this is Congress, Steve. A lot less responsibility. You just read and vote.”
“Jack, I know that because of your job you know that’s not true. So don’t insult me by thinking I don’t know what the job of Congressman entails. Writing legislation, sitting on committees, deciding what should go into the budget, confirming Presidential appointments, not to mention all the deals required to achieve anything I’d want done.”
“Except you wouldn’t have to make deals, Steve. You’re Captain America! Whatever you support, everybody else would too because nobody would dare disagree with Captain America. Any committee you want to be on, anything for the budget, whomever you want appointed…”
“That would actually be worse,” Captain America countered. “People elect officials to represent their interests, not to fall over for a man those people had no say in electing. Not to mention the fact that if I have no opposition there’s no debate, and believe it or not there are some things I might be wrong about.”
“You would be good at it Steve,” Jack said. “The special election is soon. Just, think about it.”
Captain America rose from his chair. “Maybe you should think about it, Jack. Because I think you could be better.”
# # # # #
A large house on Long Island. Home to a wealthy and powerful person, Captain America knew. Also home to a sick little boy who, Captain America knew from the letter and the information Drake Flagg found, had been diagnosed with liver cancer yet had been discharged less than a week after a transplant.
Security hadn’t been a problem. Hospital nurses were one thing, but guards generally folded at the sight of an Avengers communicard. Out of uniform, Captain America walked unmolested to the front door and knocked. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a servant that answered but the man of the house, who’s photograph had been included in the packet of information Captain America had.
“Mr. Celestin, you may not recognize me but I’m-”
“Captain America. Or Mr. Rogers, if you’d prefer.” Vernon Celestin extended his hand to take the Living Legend’s. “Sir, it’s an honor to meet you. What, what brings you here to…”
“Your son,” Captain America dug the letter out of his pocket, “sent me a letter. There are some things in here that I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Oh.” If Celestin’s demeanor had been nervous before, now it was downright jittery. He accepted the wrinkled paper in shaking hands. “Oh, well, you know how kids are. They misunderstand things, have a tendency to exaggerate without really thinking…”
“It sounded like your son is very sick. I was surprised to hear he’d been discharged.”
“Yes. The truth that, with no hope I thought it would be better…that he’d be more comfortable here at home. Also it would open up a bed here…”
“Daddy!”
A young boy no older than eight ran into view, nearly colliding with his father. He barely spared a glance at the man who wasn’t wearing Captain America’s mask. He certainly didn’t look like a boy with no hope.
“Hey, little guy. Why don’t you go get changed and I will take you out to the pool after I’ve finished with this nice man?”
His son ran off, and Mr. Celestin faced the skeptical Captain America. “There’s good days as well as bad. Maybe, if you don’t mind, it’d be great if he could meet you. In costume, I mean. From the letter, you can see what a big fan he is and…”
“Mr. Celestin, according to this letter…”
“I’m told that’s just a kid’s overactive imagination.”
“I’ve read up on your son’s condition. At this stage, he shouldn’t be walking right now. If I look deep enough I can confirm what this letter says. Now sir if this is true I’ll do my best to keep you out of it, but I have to know what is going on.”
There was a brief moment of quiet, while Mr. Celestin considered what to say. But finally he did say something. “I’m sorry, Mr…Captain. Yes, there is something. You can see that, and because of it my son is going to live. He’s healthy now, better than he’s ever been in fact. If I tell you why, how, then what about the next child who needs this?”
Shaking his head, the father stepped back and put his hand on the door. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”
The door closed in his face, Captain America turned and walked away from the house. He didn’t even have the letter anymore, so instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out the cell phone. “Drake, its Steve. Yes, Jack said you expected my call. Have you started? I’ll be right over.”
# # # # #
“Okay, so this is what I’ve found.” Drake Flagg wasn’t looking at Captain America, instead focused on the three computer screens in front of him. “What I did was look into known contacts of our Mr. Celestin and looked for medical problems, anything that might have involved surgery.”
“And did you?” asked Captain America.
“No,” replied Drake. “But one of them is a professional bicyclist who’s suddenly risen to the top of his sport. He’s making large payments every month, around the same time that he receives a small package of biological material.”
“Blood doping,” Captain America puzzled out.
“Most likely. And he knew a wealthy young model that’d been on dialysis for years. Cocaine problem, it had destroyed her kidneys. One massive dent in her back account later, and she’s no longer on the list. Then I found people she knew who clearly had procedures both before and after she did. We’re talking dozens of people, all wealthy, either with life-threatening medical problems or athletes who got a lot better in their performance.”
“So the money is one common factor,” Captain America commented. “Should I guess at the other one?”
“They don’t all share the same blood type,” Drake stated. “But Steve, would they really need it? We have a boy with a cancerous liver replaced with a healthy one, something that normally wouldn’t mean anything but in this case saved his life. One of these people making regular payments isn’t an athlete, but there was once a rumor that he had HIV. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
“Yes,” said Captain America. “The extremely wealthy and powerful, desperate people, are paying huge sums of money for organs and blood transfusions. My organs. My blood. Cloned, and we have no idea of the long-term effects of that.” He turned and started for the door. “Find out who’s doing this, Drake. Track the money, the shipments, where the procedures are performed. If you can give me a name, great. If not, I’ll find out as I’m shutting it down.”
# # # # #
Captain America passed them on the street, two men who were entering Drake Flagg’s building as he left. They were hostile, Steve could see that in their body language, but they didn’t recognize him without the mask. Considering the timing, they had to be after Drake, and they had to have been sent by whomever Captain America wanted. Like birds flying out from beaten bushes.
As the two men entered the building, Steve Rogers turned the corner. Beneath his jacket, the star of the uniform saw daylight. Drake Flagg wasn’t going to meet them alone, not if Captain America could help it.
Upstairs, Drake Flagg opened the door and faced a gun.
“Back up,” ordered the gun’s owner. Drake complied, rolling his wheelchair backwards, and two men entered the apartment. Both carried pistols. One passed Drake to enter the other room, where the computers were, while the other kept his gun on Drake.
“How much do you know? Answer me!”
But Drake didn’t answer. His eyes just glanced towards the other room, where a loud thump could be heard. Drake’s assailant also looked in that direction, his hand starting to shake.
“Who else is here? Tell them to get out here right now or-aahhh!”
The door to the other room was kicked out, and before the gunman could react a discus was thrown in his direction. The spinning edge collided with his hand, breaking bones and sending the gun to the floor. Just as the pain of his ruined hand was starting to register, the man was grabbed by the collar and thrown up against the wall by a very angry Captain America.
“You’re not asking the questions anymore,” said Captain America in a quiet, frightening tone. “The name of who sent you, and where I can find them. Or you’ll be in need of new organs.” All a bluff, but the threat was almost always more frightening than the act itself.
# # # # #
“They’ve failed.”
In the shadowy laboratory, the person in charge made this observation to his henchmen. They were useful enough, competent with the equipment and the more basic operations so that their employer wouldn’t have to bother. At his statement, they looked up from their menial work, and one even had the courage to respond.
“It hasn’t been that long, sir. The guy you sent them to might just not be talking right away. And you did tell them not to call in.”
If he’d had a head, the employer would have shaken it. Instead he continued, in that unusual synthetic voice, “Were you more intelligent you would have noticed the computers. Our curious cat is still online. Surely they’ve had time to at least tear apart his equipment.”
Indeed, on the monitor the IP address was shown as still being active. Nobody could refute this, and the man who’d spoken before kept quiet while his employer went on.
“Shut everything down. We’re moving the operation.”
The proximity alarms blared. It was already too late. His footsteps heavy on the metal floor, the employer reached a bank of security monitors and gave the equivalent of a heavy sigh. Most of the monitors already showed static, their respective cameras already disabled.
“Curses! He’s reached us faster than I had anticipated.” Large, almost unwieldy fingers pressed a series of buttons. “Quickly, fools!” he ordered the scientists and engineers who were his henchmen. “We must hold him off his long as we can, destroy the operation and make our escape!”
Loud bangs and crashes could be heard from behind massive blast doors. Two of the scientists froze, terror evident on their faces. Again, their employer gave what could almost be called a sigh and turned in their direction.
“Not following my orders is the same as turning against me. Experience the fate of all who oppose me!”
Beams of energy erupted from what may have been his head, consuming the two terrified men. But they did not vaporize into nothingness or fall instantly dead, nor were they even stunned. Instead, a horrific transformation took place, as the two once-brilliant and physically inferior beings were altered, devolved perhaps, into massive ape-like creatures.
“Continue the work toward our escape,” the remaining scientists and engineers were told. “Or you will be put to work in security!”
A mighty crash seemed to shake the room, and great blast doors appeared to give a fraction. Soon they opened more than a fraction, and it could be seen that something had been wedged between the two doors. Roaring their hostility, the two man-apes lumbered toward the breach even as it widened.
His shield had wedged enough room that Captain America was able to force his fingers through the opening. With a mighty display of strength, he wrenched the doors apart, and found creatures almost twice his size rushing at him.
Moving faster than the beasts could comprehend, Captain America pushed off the doors and jumped between his animalistic attacks. Spinning about as he moved past, Captain America struck one of the man-apes on the back of its head with his shield, forcing the beast forward into the doorway. This just as the blast doors had automatically slammed closed again, though not all the way.
The remaining manimal roared its fury even as it’s twin howled in agony. It swiped a mighty paw at Captain America, but he parried the blow with a chop to the wrist and ducked under the attack. The arm with the shield swept up, jabbed the edge into the base of his enemy’s spine. Such a strike would have crippled a normal man, and truthfully Captain America had hoped to stun his opponent at least. Barely fazed, however, the creature tapped Captain America with a powerful backhand that, although he rolled with the impact, rattled his skull.
These creatures are strong, Captain America noted. He could see that the other one was not only still alive with the blast doors closed against it, but was actually attempting to force the doors apart. That it would succeed remained a question, and Captain America concentrated on the one still standing. Even outfighting him might not be enough, but I have to try!
Again, the mammoth man-beast rushed at Captain America, and again his superior fighting skill and speed won out. Crouched low to the ground, Captain America kicked hard at the creature’s ankle. Leverage as much as force worked in his favor, as the enemy stumbled briefly. With his enemy going down, Captain America brought his shield up, so hard into his opponent’s throat that the roar of blood lust became a gurgle.
Most men would have been killed, their windpipe crushed, but in this case Captain America’s intention of stunning the beast came to pass. With his adversary momentarily incapacitated, Captain America pressed the advantage home, dealing rapid-fire blows.
Must put everything I’ve got into these, Captain America told himself as he bashed the edge of his shield down against the man-ape’s head, Make every strike count. Until he’s… A powerful roundhouse punch sent the creature to the floor, where he remained – Down!
Any other man would rest after such a victory, but Captain America sprang immediately into action, hurling his shield towards new targets. Even in the heat of battle, the soldier had taken stock of his surroundings. The large vats of chemicals with shapes floating inside, the operating tables, and the men who were desperately working at banks of computers.
Bouncing from wall to table to floor and striking men along the way, Captain America took out all but one of the laboratory’s remaining occupants. Behind him, the creature in the doorway had stopped thrashing, meaning it was either dead or had passed out. Captain America hoped it was the latter, and that the horrific work of the only other conscious person in the room could be undone.
“This ends now, Arnim Zola!” Captain America screamed out at the mad Nazi geneticist, who at last turned from the computers to face him.
While the experiments performed on others would have been enough to label him inhuman, that Arnim Zola would use himself as a test subject showed him as utterly insane. His body had ceased to be human long ago, replaced instead by a synthetic frame which lacked a head. Oh, but Arnim Zola still had a face, holographically displayed on his chest, where deep inside his brain lay well-protected.
“Oh, yes it indeed ends, Captain America,” spoke Arnim Zola in a computerized voice that closely mimicked his own. “For you!”
In place of a head, Arnim Zola had on top of his shoulders a device known as the ESP box. At Zola’s mental command, bolts of psycho-electric power erupted from the ESP box, one aimed straight at Captain America! While this burst was easily deflected by Captain America’s shield, the other blasts found their targets: the vats of chemicals on either side of the room.
“You’ll have to try better than that, Zola,” stated Captain America. He straightened his arm back, prepared to throw the shield. But the shattering of glass stayed his hand. “What?”
“My upload will take some seconds more,” revealed Arnim Zola. Most likely this was in reference to the data of his operation being transferred to a new location, though he could also have been referring to a means of escape. During World War II, Arnim Zola had developed a means to project one’s mental essence into a cloned brain. “More than enough time to watch you die at the hands of….yourself!”
Chemicals spilled out onto the floor in thick streams of liquid. Lumbering out of the glass vats were men, or at least the shapes of men. The bodies were all horribly disfigured, with transparent skin and missing limbs and various other forms of partial development. Least developed were the heads, misshappen lumps with almost indistinguishable features, which led Captain America to the conclusion that they were being controlled directly by Arnim Zola, via the ESP box.
“Nice try.” But Captain America wasn’t distracted from the real threat. His shield was thrown, not directly at the ESP box but that was where it ended up. The device exploded on impact, and by the time the shield returned to Captain America’s waiting hand all of the bodies had fallen to the floor.
Though his main weapon had been destroyed, Arnim Zola did not surrender. Raising his arm, Zola revealed a pistol in his hand and opened fire on Captain America. “Die, American pig!” The shots were fired blindly, for ESP stands for Extra-Sensory Perception, and with his ESP box destroyed Arnim Zola was very nearly blind and deaf.
Still, the bullets were fired in Captain America’s general direction, and several bounced off his shield as the hero rushed at Arnim Zola. “Typical fall-back response, Zola. The only way your kind could win any argument was through violence!” Smashing shield-first into Zola’s chest, Captain America drove the Nazi scientist backward against the banks of computers. The sophisticated equipment sparked as it was crushed under Arnim Zola’s body, the information within destroyed forever.
As for Arnim Zola, he ended up flat on his back, struggling to rise from the floor but unable to do so. He was so very liked a turtle in that regard, and in that sense Captain America pitied him.
“You cannot deny what I have done here, Captain,” Arnim Zola taunted. “Lives were saved because of me. People were improved. That blood inside you could make the world better. Would you really destroy the possibilities that I have opened here?”
Captain America had no difficulty with his response, made as he withdrew the Avengers communicard. “We’ll set aside the morality of what you’ve done, the invasion of my body and the lives you created to be tortured and cut apart. I’ve seen the Serum’s effect on others, the madness and even cancers that developed because those who followed Dr. Erskine’s work did so recklessly. Every life you’ve altered will have to be watched and studied, unfortunately, because the government I hope could be better won’t let this opportunity to make more of me pass.”
Pressing his foot down on Zola’s wrist, where the pistol had still been clasped but was not released, Captain America continued. “Maybe that was your intention all along, as part of some scheme I can’t see right now. That uncertainty worries me, but whatever comes I will be ready. You have my promise on that, Zola.”
“Jump at shadows, Captain,” hissed the Nazi, “and you will be struck down from those in plain view.”
“Oh, I’m watching them too,” Captain America remarked. The connection had been made, and he spoke into the communicard. “Fury, it’s me. Send a capture team to my location. And a clean-up crew.”
The End
Next Issue: It’s the return of Falcon, teamed up once again with Captain America. Together they tackle organized crime, and investigate a murder where the prime suspect is…Falcon!
Nothing in Captain America’s kitchen needed to be cooked or otherwise prepared. Everything was ready-to-eat and non-perishable, for a man who often ate on the run. It was that and eating out, stopping at food stands and deli counters for a quick meal. Every morning while he was at home this is what Steve Rogers did, taking some food bars when going on his run, stopping at the diner near his apartment for a post-run breakfast. On the way into the diner, Steve would pick up the morning paper, read it as he ate.
Every morning, and anybody who watched Steve Rogers would have known this. However, no matter how good they were, Captain America always saw them watching.
Everybody inside the diner knew Captain America’s face, and now he knew all of theirs. Some small greetings, a quick chat with a waitress, and Steve Rogers sat down to eat. He didn’t have a menu, the order was standing. Eggs, toast, fruit, large glass of orange juice and small glass of milk. No cereal or heavy meats. If necessary Steve could eat fast, and the eggs he always did. The rest went slowly, nibbled as he glanced through the paper.
Local news was to be expected. Resignation of U.S. Representative. Captain America was sorry he hadn’t been there to help Jack Flagg, but all things considered the situation had been handled as best it could. As for the reason Captain America had been away, that was front page news as though mocking him. Flagsmasher, out of costume and meeting with several high-ranking foreign officials. Eventually, Captain America would find a way to expose the man as the terrorist he really was, and maybe beat the location of Nomad out of him in the process.
Nomad. Jack Monroe had been manipulated enough in his life, and HYDRA was likely doing it to him again. Captain America didn’t want to think about what the next encounter would be like, and fortunately a distraction fired at him from the rooftop.
The chkk of glass breaking wasn’t Captain America’s warning, thankfully. It was actually the sound of glass cracking, because the bullet had impacted against the specialized pane Captain America had asked the diner to install and had paid for himself. Grabbing the extra plate that was always part of Steve Rogers’ order, Captain America jumped to his feet.
“Everybody down!” Captain America cried as he threw his body against the window. It had been installed specifically to pop out from the inside, and fell to the pavement with a clatter. Captain America leapt into the open street, locked eyes with the rooftop sniper, and threw his breakfast plate.
What happened next was to be predicted, yet somehow contained a surprise. Bent over his rifle, the sniper was struck high on the forehead. The surprise was that the impact made his head explode. Captain America took an involuntary step back at the sight of smoke and flames bursting out of a man’s head. There he had been planning to just stun the man, buy himself time to climb the building and reach the room before his attacker could recover.
In that respect at least, the plan still happened. Captain America pulled himself onto the roof. Pieces of ceramic broke underneath his boots. Close up, Captain America saw that his attacker’s head was sparking from exposed circuitry. It’d been a machine.
Soon the police were on the scene, led by a detective whom Captain America was familiar with. Detective Paul Hall shook his head at the sight of a headless robot being carted away by federal agents, who had arrived less than a minute before the police.
“So, how many times has this been, the past year?” the detective asked Captain America. “First there was that fiery nut, then some crazed guy tried to blow up your building. Both of those were cleaned up by the Feds too. Now we’ve got this, a damned robot.”
Not just any robot, Captain America knew. One of Machinesmith’s. A brilliant robotics engineer, Starr Saxon had nearly died in a fall, had only been saved when his robotic creations downloaded his mind into a computer. Driven mad by the experience, Machinesmith had become suicidal. Captain America had been maneuvered into destroying the computer, unaware of its true purpose. The bulk of Machinesmith’s mind, his soul perhaps, had died that day. But other pieces remained, trapped inside robotic shells that either craved revenge on Captain America or still desired the ultimate end.
But he wasn’t about to say any of this to Detective Hall. “The smarter ones know not to risk themselves. Maybe they’re just seeing how well I’m prepared.”
“So now they know. Does this mean something bigger will come next?”
“If it does, then I’ll deal with that too,” Captain America said. “If there’s nothing else, detective, I’d like to go home.”
“There is, actually,” said the detective. “People are tearing up this neighborhood because of a grudge against you.”
There were a number of arguments Captain America could have used. But was there really a point? Setting the debate aside, Captain America instead said, “Actually, I’ll need to see about having that glass pane replaced.”
“Lucky for you nothing heavier was used. That nobody’s been hurt so far in your little private war.”
Again, Captain America didn’t debate. “Detective.” He walked away from the man, back into the diner to settle up.
# # # # #
Hours later, Captain America had returned his apartment. His whole building actually, still vacant except for his private living space. The Fantastic Four didn’t have the same problem occupying the Baxter Building, but then people in Manhattan were more used to super-heroes. Brooklyn was different, a largely residential area full of working folks, with much fewer targets for the greedy or the glory-seeking. Sure, many of the usual crimes had gone down largely due to Captain America’s presence, but those were less profile, the sort of things the average citizen didn’t hear about anyway. Masked criminals and near-terrorist attacks were another thing entirely, much more noticeable, and many associated them to Captain America.
By far the biggest change Captain America had had to deal with since going public, however, was the mail. It used to be that the massive sacks of mail were delivered to Avengers Mansion. Not anymore, and that was a major reason for the move. His building had a secure mail drop, virtually impossible to break into and large enough to hold Santa Claus’ mail at Christmas time.
Inside his apartment, Captain America went to the door that connected to his mail drop and opened it, as he did every morning when possible. Today was better than usual, as only a few dozen letters and packages spilled out. Captain America sighed. At the mansion, there were secretaries on staff to handle the mail. Maybe Captain America should get a personal assistant, somebody to help deal with this aspect of the solo-hero lifestyle.
Glancing at the envelopes, Captain America saw that many were solicitations of one form or another. Setting these aside, Captain America sorted through the more contemporary letters, reading the Return Addresses. Three were obvious aliases, two came from Camp Leheigh where Steve Rogers had briefly trained during World War II, and one name was an anagram of the Red Skull’s real name Johann Schmidt. A personal assistant trained in HazMat and explosives, Captain America decided.
One letter stood out to Captain America. The address was from a hospital, cancer ward. The name had no title, so a patient. Curious but still cautious, Captain America opened the letter and started to read. Three sentences in, he knew that something was very, very wrong.
# # # # #
The door that said “Alias Investigations” on the window was locked, and nobody was answering Captain America’s knocks. He checked his watch, normal operating hours. Nobody had answered the phone at the office or her home, so perhaps Jessica was out working a case. Doesn’t explain why she hadn’t answered her cell phone, however.
A door at the far end of the hall opened, and Captain America turned to see a young man emerging from the stairwell. His hair was dyed in several colors, and there were piercings on his face. Captain America recognized him as an employee for Jessica Jones.
“Excuse me.” Captain America extended a hand as the young man approached. “Hi, I’m Steve. Is Ms. Jones in? I was hoping to speak with her, maybe hire her for an investigation.”
The young man looked at the hand, looked up at the face. “Rogers. You’re Steve Rogers, right? Captain America?”
“Well, yes, but this isn’t for-”
But the young man walked right past Captain America. “Get lost. We don’t want any of your phony preaching around here.”
“Excuse me?”
“American dream and all that bull.” Another word was said, but Captain America chose not to hear it. At least the young man was unlocking that door. “Same stuff my gramps used to talk about, almost as often as he bragged about some time you saved his life. Well, I looked that up, and you were never anywhere he’d been stationed.”
So, the young man thinks his grandfather made up war stories, and now he was anti-authority. Made sense he’d be working for Jessica then, considering what she’d been through and was about. Captain America didn’t bother to counter that he was in a lot of places that hadn’t been recorded. Not knowing about the man’s grandfather, that could have easily blown up in his face. Instead he followed close, and put his hand up to prevent the young man closing the door behind him.
“Where’s Jessica?”
“Don’t know.” He turned and looked at Captain America with eyes of…not hostility, but a clear annoyance. “Guess you’ll have to go find somebody else to team up with for your little beat down. Like you, I’m not the boss of Jessica, always knowing where she-”
From the next room, a toilet could be heard flushing.
“Well, okay, right now I know that she’s in the bathroom. But it’s not like she texts me every time she takes a-”
The bathroom door opened, and Jessica Jones came storming out. “What the hell are you doing here?” she screamed angrily. It wasn’t Captain America that she addressed, but the young man.
“You gave me a key,” he said, holding up said key.
“Once, for an emergency. Which I took back right after.” Jessica held out her hand. “Give me the damned copy, and get the hell out.”
Dejected, the young man did what he was told, dropping the key into Jessica’s waiting palm. But as he turned to leave, he looked Captain America up and down. “Sure you don’t want any help throwing out red, white and lame here?”
“Nope. Get out.”
“Damned straight, Jessica.” The young man rapped a fist against his chest. “Don’t need any help dealing with anything, let alone some military poster-boy who’s always making the guys with actual powers do the heavy lifting for him. Catch you on the sidewalk after she dumps you out the window,” he snipped at Captain America while storming out the door.
Alone, Captain America turned to Jessica. “Colorful guy. A fan of yours.”
“Apparently I’m big online.” Jessica sat down behind her desk and lit up a cigarette. “You had better turn around and follow him, because that window suggestion is sounding better by the second.”
“There’s actually something I wanted your help with.” From his jacket pocket, Captain America pulled out the letter and set it on Jessica’s desk. “A little boy I want to ask about, but given my profile I thought it’d be best if-”
“Not going to happen.” Jessica picked up the letter and threw it at Captain America’s face. It struck him and fluttered briefly before he could grab it. “You and me, we’re done. So get the hell out.”
“If this is about what happened with Catherine and Jack…?” Captain America started. While he’d been abroad, Jack Flagg had gotten himself into trouble and Free Spirit had hired Jessica to help her help him. Things had gone bad, with Jessica and Free Spirit finding themselves under a villain’s control.
“No, that was as much my fault as anyone else.” The look Jessica was giving Captain America could have thrown him back into suspended animation. “But after your SHIELD friends pulled my ass out of trouble-”
“They weren’t my friends. Jack’s brother had called them.”
“I had a little chat with your ex,” Jessica kept right on saying as though Captain America hadn’t interrupted. “About your brother Mike and his brother Grant who apparently had also died at Pearl Harbor.”
Captain America couldn’t hold back the sigh. “Jessica, a lot has gone on in my head over the years. False memories were implanted, some real memories had gotten blocked out.”
“But you knew this was false.” Jessica made a back and forth motion with her hand, indicating a connection between them. “You knew I wasn’t…it was all just a goddamned lie. So get the hell out.”
Realizing there was nothing he could say, Captain America turned and started for the door. But in the doorway, the knob in his hand and turning, he couldn’t help it. “Yeah, I know it wasn’t real. But I still remember Mike, still feel something knowing he’s gone.” He risked a glance over his shoulder at Jessica. “It was still nice, pretending like I had real family.”
“Feels awful knowing it was just crap, huh?” asked Jessica vindictively.
With a sad nod, Captain America opened the door and left.
# # # # #
For the second time in as many days, Steve Rogers walked out of a building having accomplished absolutely nothing. The hospital hadn’t given him any information about the boy, including his home address or the parents’ names. The real shame, Steve thought as he read through the letter again, was that he didn’t really need the hospital to cooperate. Enough information was in the letter that Captain America could track the boy down on his own.
Still, Captain America reflected as he took out his cell phone, at least this way no hospital personnel would get into trouble. “Drake,” Captain America said into the phone, “I need your help with something.”
It’s easy enough to request information over the phone, but receiving it requires a different approach. Captain America preferred to do things face-to-face, and later met with Drake’s brother Jack Flagg. There were some things the two men had to discuss anyway.
“Here’s the information you asked for,” Jack said as he slid the folded sheets of paper across the table. “Drake said there were some interesting things there, and he’ll be expecting your call soon.”
“I don’t like it already,” responded Steve as he pocketed the sheets. “Thanks, Jack. I’m glad to see that you and Drake are still okay.”
“Turns out his calling SHIELD saved my life. Thinking I could handle things alone was the real mistake. Still, I wish that somehow things could have ended differently.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help. But, regrettably, the outcome would have likely been the same,” said Captain America, referring to the U.S. Representative’s resignation. “You know this, Jack.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jack admitted. “It’s just not right, you know, how little it can take to destroy a man’s career.”
Purple Man had used his powers of manipulation to make the representative kill a woman. Hardly a little thing, but Captain America said nothing. “Are you having luck finding a new job?” Jack Flagg had previously worked in the representative’s office.
“I’ve been getting some offers. None from anybody I’d actually want to work for, though.” Hesitant, Jack added, “Steve, have you wondered about running?”
Somehow, the question didn’t come as a surprise to Captain America. “Jack, you know I declined an offer to run for-”
“President. Yeah, I know. But this is Congress, Steve. A lot less responsibility. You just read and vote.”
“Jack, I know that because of your job you know that’s not true. So don’t insult me by thinking I don’t know what the job of Congressman entails. Writing legislation, sitting on committees, deciding what should go into the budget, confirming Presidential appointments, not to mention all the deals required to achieve anything I’d want done.”
“Except you wouldn’t have to make deals, Steve. You’re Captain America! Whatever you support, everybody else would too because nobody would dare disagree with Captain America. Any committee you want to be on, anything for the budget, whomever you want appointed…”
“That would actually be worse,” Captain America countered. “People elect officials to represent their interests, not to fall over for a man those people had no say in electing. Not to mention the fact that if I have no opposition there’s no debate, and believe it or not there are some things I might be wrong about.”
“You would be good at it Steve,” Jack said. “The special election is soon. Just, think about it.”
Captain America rose from his chair. “Maybe you should think about it, Jack. Because I think you could be better.”
# # # # #
A large house on Long Island. Home to a wealthy and powerful person, Captain America knew. Also home to a sick little boy who, Captain America knew from the letter and the information Drake Flagg found, had been diagnosed with liver cancer yet had been discharged less than a week after a transplant.
Security hadn’t been a problem. Hospital nurses were one thing, but guards generally folded at the sight of an Avengers communicard. Out of uniform, Captain America walked unmolested to the front door and knocked. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a servant that answered but the man of the house, who’s photograph had been included in the packet of information Captain America had.
“Mr. Celestin, you may not recognize me but I’m-”
“Captain America. Or Mr. Rogers, if you’d prefer.” Vernon Celestin extended his hand to take the Living Legend’s. “Sir, it’s an honor to meet you. What, what brings you here to…”
“Your son,” Captain America dug the letter out of his pocket, “sent me a letter. There are some things in here that I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Oh.” If Celestin’s demeanor had been nervous before, now it was downright jittery. He accepted the wrinkled paper in shaking hands. “Oh, well, you know how kids are. They misunderstand things, have a tendency to exaggerate without really thinking…”
“It sounded like your son is very sick. I was surprised to hear he’d been discharged.”
“Yes. The truth that, with no hope I thought it would be better…that he’d be more comfortable here at home. Also it would open up a bed here…”
“Daddy!”
A young boy no older than eight ran into view, nearly colliding with his father. He barely spared a glance at the man who wasn’t wearing Captain America’s mask. He certainly didn’t look like a boy with no hope.
“Hey, little guy. Why don’t you go get changed and I will take you out to the pool after I’ve finished with this nice man?”
His son ran off, and Mr. Celestin faced the skeptical Captain America. “There’s good days as well as bad. Maybe, if you don’t mind, it’d be great if he could meet you. In costume, I mean. From the letter, you can see what a big fan he is and…”
“Mr. Celestin, according to this letter…”
“I’m told that’s just a kid’s overactive imagination.”
“I’ve read up on your son’s condition. At this stage, he shouldn’t be walking right now. If I look deep enough I can confirm what this letter says. Now sir if this is true I’ll do my best to keep you out of it, but I have to know what is going on.”
There was a brief moment of quiet, while Mr. Celestin considered what to say. But finally he did say something. “I’m sorry, Mr…Captain. Yes, there is something. You can see that, and because of it my son is going to live. He’s healthy now, better than he’s ever been in fact. If I tell you why, how, then what about the next child who needs this?”
Shaking his head, the father stepped back and put his hand on the door. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”
The door closed in his face, Captain America turned and walked away from the house. He didn’t even have the letter anymore, so instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out the cell phone. “Drake, its Steve. Yes, Jack said you expected my call. Have you started? I’ll be right over.”
# # # # #
“Okay, so this is what I’ve found.” Drake Flagg wasn’t looking at Captain America, instead focused on the three computer screens in front of him. “What I did was look into known contacts of our Mr. Celestin and looked for medical problems, anything that might have involved surgery.”
“And did you?” asked Captain America.
“No,” replied Drake. “But one of them is a professional bicyclist who’s suddenly risen to the top of his sport. He’s making large payments every month, around the same time that he receives a small package of biological material.”
“Blood doping,” Captain America puzzled out.
“Most likely. And he knew a wealthy young model that’d been on dialysis for years. Cocaine problem, it had destroyed her kidneys. One massive dent in her back account later, and she’s no longer on the list. Then I found people she knew who clearly had procedures both before and after she did. We’re talking dozens of people, all wealthy, either with life-threatening medical problems or athletes who got a lot better in their performance.”
“So the money is one common factor,” Captain America commented. “Should I guess at the other one?”
“They don’t all share the same blood type,” Drake stated. “But Steve, would they really need it? We have a boy with a cancerous liver replaced with a healthy one, something that normally wouldn’t mean anything but in this case saved his life. One of these people making regular payments isn’t an athlete, but there was once a rumor that he had HIV. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
“Yes,” said Captain America. “The extremely wealthy and powerful, desperate people, are paying huge sums of money for organs and blood transfusions. My organs. My blood. Cloned, and we have no idea of the long-term effects of that.” He turned and started for the door. “Find out who’s doing this, Drake. Track the money, the shipments, where the procedures are performed. If you can give me a name, great. If not, I’ll find out as I’m shutting it down.”
# # # # #
Captain America passed them on the street, two men who were entering Drake Flagg’s building as he left. They were hostile, Steve could see that in their body language, but they didn’t recognize him without the mask. Considering the timing, they had to be after Drake, and they had to have been sent by whomever Captain America wanted. Like birds flying out from beaten bushes.
As the two men entered the building, Steve Rogers turned the corner. Beneath his jacket, the star of the uniform saw daylight. Drake Flagg wasn’t going to meet them alone, not if Captain America could help it.
Upstairs, Drake Flagg opened the door and faced a gun.
“Back up,” ordered the gun’s owner. Drake complied, rolling his wheelchair backwards, and two men entered the apartment. Both carried pistols. One passed Drake to enter the other room, where the computers were, while the other kept his gun on Drake.
“How much do you know? Answer me!”
But Drake didn’t answer. His eyes just glanced towards the other room, where a loud thump could be heard. Drake’s assailant also looked in that direction, his hand starting to shake.
“Who else is here? Tell them to get out here right now or-aahhh!”
The door to the other room was kicked out, and before the gunman could react a discus was thrown in his direction. The spinning edge collided with his hand, breaking bones and sending the gun to the floor. Just as the pain of his ruined hand was starting to register, the man was grabbed by the collar and thrown up against the wall by a very angry Captain America.
“You’re not asking the questions anymore,” said Captain America in a quiet, frightening tone. “The name of who sent you, and where I can find them. Or you’ll be in need of new organs.” All a bluff, but the threat was almost always more frightening than the act itself.
# # # # #
“They’ve failed.”
In the shadowy laboratory, the person in charge made this observation to his henchmen. They were useful enough, competent with the equipment and the more basic operations so that their employer wouldn’t have to bother. At his statement, they looked up from their menial work, and one even had the courage to respond.
“It hasn’t been that long, sir. The guy you sent them to might just not be talking right away. And you did tell them not to call in.”
If he’d had a head, the employer would have shaken it. Instead he continued, in that unusual synthetic voice, “Were you more intelligent you would have noticed the computers. Our curious cat is still online. Surely they’ve had time to at least tear apart his equipment.”
Indeed, on the monitor the IP address was shown as still being active. Nobody could refute this, and the man who’d spoken before kept quiet while his employer went on.
“Shut everything down. We’re moving the operation.”
The proximity alarms blared. It was already too late. His footsteps heavy on the metal floor, the employer reached a bank of security monitors and gave the equivalent of a heavy sigh. Most of the monitors already showed static, their respective cameras already disabled.
“Curses! He’s reached us faster than I had anticipated.” Large, almost unwieldy fingers pressed a series of buttons. “Quickly, fools!” he ordered the scientists and engineers who were his henchmen. “We must hold him off his long as we can, destroy the operation and make our escape!”
Loud bangs and crashes could be heard from behind massive blast doors. Two of the scientists froze, terror evident on their faces. Again, their employer gave what could almost be called a sigh and turned in their direction.
“Not following my orders is the same as turning against me. Experience the fate of all who oppose me!”
Beams of energy erupted from what may have been his head, consuming the two terrified men. But they did not vaporize into nothingness or fall instantly dead, nor were they even stunned. Instead, a horrific transformation took place, as the two once-brilliant and physically inferior beings were altered, devolved perhaps, into massive ape-like creatures.
“Continue the work toward our escape,” the remaining scientists and engineers were told. “Or you will be put to work in security!”
A mighty crash seemed to shake the room, and great blast doors appeared to give a fraction. Soon they opened more than a fraction, and it could be seen that something had been wedged between the two doors. Roaring their hostility, the two man-apes lumbered toward the breach even as it widened.
His shield had wedged enough room that Captain America was able to force his fingers through the opening. With a mighty display of strength, he wrenched the doors apart, and found creatures almost twice his size rushing at him.
Moving faster than the beasts could comprehend, Captain America pushed off the doors and jumped between his animalistic attacks. Spinning about as he moved past, Captain America struck one of the man-apes on the back of its head with his shield, forcing the beast forward into the doorway. This just as the blast doors had automatically slammed closed again, though not all the way.
The remaining manimal roared its fury even as it’s twin howled in agony. It swiped a mighty paw at Captain America, but he parried the blow with a chop to the wrist and ducked under the attack. The arm with the shield swept up, jabbed the edge into the base of his enemy’s spine. Such a strike would have crippled a normal man, and truthfully Captain America had hoped to stun his opponent at least. Barely fazed, however, the creature tapped Captain America with a powerful backhand that, although he rolled with the impact, rattled his skull.
These creatures are strong, Captain America noted. He could see that the other one was not only still alive with the blast doors closed against it, but was actually attempting to force the doors apart. That it would succeed remained a question, and Captain America concentrated on the one still standing. Even outfighting him might not be enough, but I have to try!
Again, the mammoth man-beast rushed at Captain America, and again his superior fighting skill and speed won out. Crouched low to the ground, Captain America kicked hard at the creature’s ankle. Leverage as much as force worked in his favor, as the enemy stumbled briefly. With his enemy going down, Captain America brought his shield up, so hard into his opponent’s throat that the roar of blood lust became a gurgle.
Most men would have been killed, their windpipe crushed, but in this case Captain America’s intention of stunning the beast came to pass. With his adversary momentarily incapacitated, Captain America pressed the advantage home, dealing rapid-fire blows.
Must put everything I’ve got into these, Captain America told himself as he bashed the edge of his shield down against the man-ape’s head, Make every strike count. Until he’s… A powerful roundhouse punch sent the creature to the floor, where he remained – Down!
Any other man would rest after such a victory, but Captain America sprang immediately into action, hurling his shield towards new targets. Even in the heat of battle, the soldier had taken stock of his surroundings. The large vats of chemicals with shapes floating inside, the operating tables, and the men who were desperately working at banks of computers.
Bouncing from wall to table to floor and striking men along the way, Captain America took out all but one of the laboratory’s remaining occupants. Behind him, the creature in the doorway had stopped thrashing, meaning it was either dead or had passed out. Captain America hoped it was the latter, and that the horrific work of the only other conscious person in the room could be undone.
“This ends now, Arnim Zola!” Captain America screamed out at the mad Nazi geneticist, who at last turned from the computers to face him.
While the experiments performed on others would have been enough to label him inhuman, that Arnim Zola would use himself as a test subject showed him as utterly insane. His body had ceased to be human long ago, replaced instead by a synthetic frame which lacked a head. Oh, but Arnim Zola still had a face, holographically displayed on his chest, where deep inside his brain lay well-protected.
“Oh, yes it indeed ends, Captain America,” spoke Arnim Zola in a computerized voice that closely mimicked his own. “For you!”
In place of a head, Arnim Zola had on top of his shoulders a device known as the ESP box. At Zola’s mental command, bolts of psycho-electric power erupted from the ESP box, one aimed straight at Captain America! While this burst was easily deflected by Captain America’s shield, the other blasts found their targets: the vats of chemicals on either side of the room.
“You’ll have to try better than that, Zola,” stated Captain America. He straightened his arm back, prepared to throw the shield. But the shattering of glass stayed his hand. “What?”
“My upload will take some seconds more,” revealed Arnim Zola. Most likely this was in reference to the data of his operation being transferred to a new location, though he could also have been referring to a means of escape. During World War II, Arnim Zola had developed a means to project one’s mental essence into a cloned brain. “More than enough time to watch you die at the hands of….yourself!”
Chemicals spilled out onto the floor in thick streams of liquid. Lumbering out of the glass vats were men, or at least the shapes of men. The bodies were all horribly disfigured, with transparent skin and missing limbs and various other forms of partial development. Least developed were the heads, misshappen lumps with almost indistinguishable features, which led Captain America to the conclusion that they were being controlled directly by Arnim Zola, via the ESP box.
“Nice try.” But Captain America wasn’t distracted from the real threat. His shield was thrown, not directly at the ESP box but that was where it ended up. The device exploded on impact, and by the time the shield returned to Captain America’s waiting hand all of the bodies had fallen to the floor.
Though his main weapon had been destroyed, Arnim Zola did not surrender. Raising his arm, Zola revealed a pistol in his hand and opened fire on Captain America. “Die, American pig!” The shots were fired blindly, for ESP stands for Extra-Sensory Perception, and with his ESP box destroyed Arnim Zola was very nearly blind and deaf.
Still, the bullets were fired in Captain America’s general direction, and several bounced off his shield as the hero rushed at Arnim Zola. “Typical fall-back response, Zola. The only way your kind could win any argument was through violence!” Smashing shield-first into Zola’s chest, Captain America drove the Nazi scientist backward against the banks of computers. The sophisticated equipment sparked as it was crushed under Arnim Zola’s body, the information within destroyed forever.
As for Arnim Zola, he ended up flat on his back, struggling to rise from the floor but unable to do so. He was so very liked a turtle in that regard, and in that sense Captain America pitied him.
“You cannot deny what I have done here, Captain,” Arnim Zola taunted. “Lives were saved because of me. People were improved. That blood inside you could make the world better. Would you really destroy the possibilities that I have opened here?”
Captain America had no difficulty with his response, made as he withdrew the Avengers communicard. “We’ll set aside the morality of what you’ve done, the invasion of my body and the lives you created to be tortured and cut apart. I’ve seen the Serum’s effect on others, the madness and even cancers that developed because those who followed Dr. Erskine’s work did so recklessly. Every life you’ve altered will have to be watched and studied, unfortunately, because the government I hope could be better won’t let this opportunity to make more of me pass.”
Pressing his foot down on Zola’s wrist, where the pistol had still been clasped but was not released, Captain America continued. “Maybe that was your intention all along, as part of some scheme I can’t see right now. That uncertainty worries me, but whatever comes I will be ready. You have my promise on that, Zola.”
“Jump at shadows, Captain,” hissed the Nazi, “and you will be struck down from those in plain view.”
“Oh, I’m watching them too,” Captain America remarked. The connection had been made, and he spoke into the communicard. “Fury, it’s me. Send a capture team to my location. And a clean-up crew.”
The End
Next Issue: It’s the return of Falcon, teamed up once again with Captain America. Together they tackle organized crime, and investigate a murder where the prime suspect is…Falcon!