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Issue #8 by Steve Crosby
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“LAST TRAIN OUT”
What had been a simple, boring speech had erupted into chaotic violence. A piece of the wall behind the speaker had exploded, struck by a bullet. Immediately he ducked to the floor, this man who also went by the name Flagsmasher, a terrorist who sought to unite the world by demolishing national symbols. Eyes were on him, but some were focused up towards where the shot had come from. Fingers pointed, and voices cried out in French.
"That’s him! Captain America is the shooter!"
Security was in motion with guns drawn, but Captain America was faster. He’d jumped into the crowd, sent men and women scattering with a sweep of his mighty shield. The nearest exit was his best bet, so Captain America ran for the corridor. A narrow hallway packed with innocent bystanders also seeking to flee as well as armed guards stood in Captain America’s way.
"Look at him go!" yelled one Frenchman who stood idly by.
Go Captain America did, careening down the corridor no matter who was there. Men went flying out of his path, sent crashing into the walls. Then he was out the door, and more guards were sent flying, knocked aside by Captain America’s shield. Before anybody could recover and take aim, Captain America leapt from the street, and disappeared into the rooftops of Paris.
While back on the stage, the man who had once been and perhaps still was Flagsmasher couldn’t help but smile.
# # # # #
A sliver of light entered the room of two Paris officers injured while attempting to apprehend Captain America. It was brief, the amount of time it took the nurse to open and close the door upon entering. In the darkness he crept towards the beds, a syringe in his hand. The liquid in the vial was adequate for both men. He knelt over one, took the IV tube in hand and inserted the needle.
The crash came before he could press the plunger. A colored discus smashed up through the glass and towards the nurse’s head. On instinct he ducked, but it was not necessary. The disc passed over, too high to hit, struck the wall and then bounced back at the exact same angle.
Captain America caught the shield in his left hand while his right fist delivered a vicious uppercut, made all the more devastating by the fact that the nurse had ducked his head into the blow. The force sent him up into the wall that, struck by the shield in a strategic place, had been weakened.
"Wow!" cried an intern in the hallway. "That guy was just punched through a wall!"
Captain America had already turned and running for the broken window. He leapt from the room as shouts of "Captain America" followed him. He hoped the nurse would be recognized as a criminal, but suspected that he would be blamed, that the authorities would accuse Captain America of attempting to murder two of their own. It didn’t matter. Another attempt would take time, and once Captain America left the city sudden deaths would raise unwanted questions.
# # # # #
Three rooftops from the hospital he came for Captain America, a flying man in a garish costume. Le Peregrine, France’s premier superhero.
"Halt Captain!" demanded the flying hero, in English. "Turn yourself in and make it easier for everyone!"
In mid-air, Captain America twisted and grabbed Le Peregrine’s outstretched wrist. "That would include the men responsible," he answered in French. His red-gloved fist slammed into Le Peregrine’s face. Seemingly no effort was used to toss the French hero like a ragdoll onto the same rooftop that Captain America himself landed on.
"Ughn."
Le Peregrine rolled across the rooftop. He tried to struggle to his feet, but Captain America’s boot to his face knocked the man out cold.
"You can fly," remarked Captain America as he ran from the unconscious Le Peregrine. "And I know you can fight. Learn to do both at the same time."
# # # # #
"I’m sorry, but he’s not in at this time."
It was a lie, and Jessica Jones knew it. Nothing in her face gave away that she saw through the receptionist, except maybe for her eyes. It was why she always wore the sunglasses, Jessica told herself. Had nothing to do with her bloodshot eyes, or that light aggravated her hangover.
"Sure, not in. Could you tell me when he’ll be back?"
That smile made Jessica grateful for the sunglasses. "Sorry. I’m not at liberty to give out the congressman’s schedule." She leaned forward and whispered. "Terrorism."
"I hadn’t heard."
Jessica turned away from the useless receptionist. Another advantage of the sunglasses was that Jessica could look at anything with her eyes and nobody would know. She’d scanned the office while seemingly wasting time with the phone girl. A man with a gun had been hovering outside the congressman’s personal office. Security personnel don’t usually guard empty offices.
The door had no sooner closed behind Jessica Jones than the receptionist pressed the intercom button. "She’s gone, sir."
"Thank you," stated the voice on the other end. In his office, the congressman breathed a sigh of relief. Private investigations were difficult to control, and therefore more dangerous. Something would have to be done about the woman, he decided while turning his chair to face the window.
Even facing it, the congressman only had the briefest of warnings before the window shattered. Then she was there, in his office, hand at his throat before a cry could be raised. The guard outside had heard the breaking glass, but when he broke down the door nobody was in the room.
Congressman under her arm, Jessica Jones appeared more to leap than fly across the New York sky. Certainly her landing on a rooftop several blocks away was anything but gentle. She threw the man down, not quite rough but it was clear Jessica didn’t give a damn about his health.
"Hnh, you…you can’t do this to me!" gasped out the congressmen in between deep breaths.
"Right," answered Jessica. "Because you say I can’t. Maybe if you told me why Jack Flagg is doing stupid things for you, I’ll learn to do it right."
# # # # #
He was dead when the detective arrived. Most likely the American broke his neck, explained one of the officers. But the detective shook his head, bent down to open the mouth, and found a hollow tooth.
“Cyanide, most likely,” stated the detective. “We’ll know for sure with an autopsy. The two patients?”
“They’ve been moved. One is still unconscious, but the other is hysterical, screaming about how they’re trying to kill him.”
“When he’s calmed down we should find out who ‘they’ are.”
“Sir!” Another officer was running down the hall, a radio in his hand. “Forensics at the other scene.”
“Thank you.” The detective took the radio and listened. When finished he said thank you and handed the radio back to the officer. “The gun was rigged. It would have fired even if no one had been in the room.”
Less and less of the case seemed right. A closed window when it should have been opened. Two officers who had been where they weren’t supposed to, and now an attempt on their lives. Suicidal assassins and automated rifles. Whether or not the American was involved, he was still somehow responsible, and needed to be found, questioned before more people died.
“We got a hit sir,” informed one officer who approached with a sheet of paper in his hand. “A train station, before we shut it down. One of the cameras there caught him.”
“That should have been done hours ago.” That morning in fact, when the manhunt for Captain America first began. But his superiors hadn’t thought the death of a young woman warranted closing off the city, no matter who killed him.
Whether or not the officer agreed he didn’t say. “He is heading south for Spain. We’ve already made arrangements to stop the train.”
“Yes, of course. But we should prepare in the event he’s not on it.” A man like Captain America knew police procedures and wouldn’t have made such a clumsy attempt at transportation. “We need to find out what sort of friends he would have in Europe. Also we should have helicopters in the countryside.”
“Sir, the expense of that will never be approved.”
“This time we have the attempted murder of a representative of the European Union. It will be approved.”
# # # # #
Morning was still a long way off when Captain America was within sight of the border. There was no line between nations, and he was far from any border checkpoint. Captain America had grown familiar with the European countryside during World War II. The Mosel River ran across the border, and once Captain America caught sight of it he ran alongside the river, knowing that eventually he would see the town on the border. Hopefully by then it would still be dark enough for him to creep across into Germany.
Rotors in the distance swept aside Captain America’s hopes. He didn’t have to turn back to know that two helicopters broke the horizon and were moving fast in his direction. The river is close. If they haven’t seen him yet then Captain America could still avoid detection.
Unfortunately one ‘copter pilot had caught sight of Captain America.
“Target has been spotted at one o’clock,” the pilot radioed to his counterpart in the second ‘copter. Both vehicles veered straight towards Captain America, who was still nowhere near the river.
No other choice, Captain America thought to himself. While running he removed the shield from his back. I’ll have to time this just right, or it’s their lives.
At a run, Captain America leapt from the ground, turned in mid-air, and hurled his shield at the helicopters. It whizzed through the air, almost as fast as the ‘copters themselves, and struck the lead bird directly below the rotor. It ricocheted off at even greater speeds that it had struck, and the shield flew at the second helicopter. The windshield became covered with cracks, obscuring the pilot’s vision and threatening to shatter every second the helicopter was moving at high speeds.
In less time that it took either pilot to notice, the shield did all this and finally struck the first helicopter’s tail rotor. The blade bent, and suddenly the helicopter had lost its reverse torque. As both helicopters struggled to land while maintaining the control, the shield returned towards Captain America at only a slightly higher angle that he’d originally thrown it, and much faster.
A millisecond before his own shield would have cut him in half, the still in mid-air Captain America leaned back and extended his arm. The shield passed over his chest and face, and when it flew over his arm Captain America managed to grab the strap in time. Its collision with the tail rotor had countered the shield’s own spin, so that it was flying straight. It therefore carried Captain America along instead of tearing his arm off, but that came close.
Now I know what Thor feels like.
Shield and man sliced into the water at nearly one hundred miles an hour. Any normal man would likely have been killed by the impact, but that didn’t cross the mind of one of the helicopter pilots when he witnessed it.
“We need backup units out here ASAP,” the pilot radioed after safely landing the crippled ‘copter. “He made it to the river.”
“Roger that,” came the reply. “We’re moving to secure the border now.”
In the course of that exchange, Captain America had already fought against the current into Germany. By the time French authorities had reached the border, Captain America had walked out of the river more than five miles past it. Fetid water dripped from the uniform, every muscle in his body ached as well as the lungs, and his right arm felt dead. But still Captain America couldn’t help but smile.
The second hardest part was over.
# # # # #
Finger with a dark green nail pressed the button. Green lips parted as she spoke. “We have reason to believe he crossed the border. Your services are required.”
“I already gave your people an answer,” the female voice replied over the speaker. “I said no even to considering this.”
“The fee will be tripled, even if all you do is talk him into surrendering. Others will not be so gentle.”
“He’ll kick the ass of anyone who tries, and mine too.”
“Meaning you will give him reason.” Those green lips curled upwards. “Meaning that you have accepted.”
“The names as previously agreed?”
“They will be provided. Several immediately. Our intelligence says they will be in the country during your assignment.”
“A bonus then. Forward me the arrangements.”
The connection broke off from the other end, but the caller did not mind. She leaned back in her luxurious seat, hands joined and green nails tapping against each other. In Germany he would find an ally, someone to watch his back. Allies were as much a hindrance as a help, and this one would only serve to drive him farther along the trail.
At the end she would be waiting.
# # # # #
On the door it said “Alias Investigations.” Catherine Webster, otherwise known as Free Spirit sat in the office behind it, patiently waiting for the woman who leased the office. Her message had been urgent, but indicated good news.
The door opened, and Cathy stood up as Jessica Jones walked into the room. She quickly closed the door behind her, and Cathy had thought she saw somebody still outside. Jessica Jones didn’t give the client any time to ask questions, however.
“I know who Jack Flagg is protecting and why.”
Cathy started to say something, but Jessica raised her hand and moved around her desk. There was a pack of cigarettes on it, which Jessica quickly tore open. She breathed deep when the cigarette was lit on between her lips.
“It was the congressman. He killed the woman, something about a sexual tryst.” Another long drag on the cigarette. It was supposed to calm her, but Jessica’s fingers were trembling. “Jack’s covering because he didn’t have a choice. The same way the congressman didn’t have a choice. Mind control.”
Cathy nodded. She’d suspected as much. “Have you figured out who’s doing this?”
“Yeah.” Cigarette dropped from Jessica’s fingers. Her eyes stared past Cathy. “He’s right behind you.”
It was Free Spirit that turned around, prepared to fight. The door was still closed, but she could see a shape, dark as a shadow, and moving closer. Only when the arm was around her throat did Free Spirit realize the shape had been Jessica’s shadow.
“He’s not that stupid,” Jessica whispered into Free Spirit’s ear. She then called out, “You can come in!”
He opened the door, a man with jet black skin and a face twisted into a macabre visage. He glared at Free Spirit with eyes that were full of anger and hate and everything else that was evil in the world. He moved closer, extending a hand towards the immobilized Free Spirit.
“Man calls himself the Corrupter,” Jessica Jones said to her captive. “Do I really have to tell you what he does?”
# # # # #
Mid-morning and Captain America was within sight of Frankfurt. Hundreds of miles in only a few hours, and if he wasn’t so exhausted Captain America thought he could have made better time. He had never run so far before, never pushed himself so hard even during the war. Something to explore later perhaps, but for the moment Captain America had more important things to do and an acquaintance to see.
Back in civilian clothes, Captain America walked towards the building located at the address he had. Taking clothes from the store hadn’t been a proud moment, but Captain America had the name and intended to send payment when he could. Adjusting the sunglasses as he crossed the street was a conscious act; the sun was directly over the building but Captain America wasn’t quite able to see the sign on the window. Some sort of non-profit organization, Captain America knew that much. He opened the door next to the window and climbed the stairs. The man he came to see lived above.
“I’m coming!” cried the voice in response to the knock at his door. It was German, but not native and a little rough. Captain America’s was better, but then he’d received training the other man never had.
When the door opened a man significantly younger than Captain America was standing there. As always the resemblance was unsettling, but Captain America composed himself and spoke.
“Hi, Jack.”
Jack Monroe blinked, taking another second to place the man who’d appeared at his door. “Steve? What are you…?”
“It’s a long story, but I need your help. Can I come in?”
“What? Yeah, I mean…sure.”
Still dazed by the sudden appearance of the man he’d idolized as a child, the man that had been Bucky to a different Captain America opened the door for the real thing.
There was only one window in Jack Monroe’s apartment, and when Captain America stepped in front of it she saw him through the sniper’s scope. On a rooftop across the street, Silver Sable tensed her finger over the trigger.
“Bang, traitor. You’re dead.”
NEXT ISSUE: Captain America attempts to enlist the aid of Jack Monroe, formerly known as Nomad, but first they’ll both have to contend with the famed mercenary Silver Sable and her Wild Pack! And don’t you dare miss the knock-down brawl between Free Spirit and a corrupted Jessica Jones!
"That’s him! Captain America is the shooter!"
Security was in motion with guns drawn, but Captain America was faster. He’d jumped into the crowd, sent men and women scattering with a sweep of his mighty shield. The nearest exit was his best bet, so Captain America ran for the corridor. A narrow hallway packed with innocent bystanders also seeking to flee as well as armed guards stood in Captain America’s way.
"Look at him go!" yelled one Frenchman who stood idly by.
Go Captain America did, careening down the corridor no matter who was there. Men went flying out of his path, sent crashing into the walls. Then he was out the door, and more guards were sent flying, knocked aside by Captain America’s shield. Before anybody could recover and take aim, Captain America leapt from the street, and disappeared into the rooftops of Paris.
While back on the stage, the man who had once been and perhaps still was Flagsmasher couldn’t help but smile.
# # # # #
A sliver of light entered the room of two Paris officers injured while attempting to apprehend Captain America. It was brief, the amount of time it took the nurse to open and close the door upon entering. In the darkness he crept towards the beds, a syringe in his hand. The liquid in the vial was adequate for both men. He knelt over one, took the IV tube in hand and inserted the needle.
The crash came before he could press the plunger. A colored discus smashed up through the glass and towards the nurse’s head. On instinct he ducked, but it was not necessary. The disc passed over, too high to hit, struck the wall and then bounced back at the exact same angle.
Captain America caught the shield in his left hand while his right fist delivered a vicious uppercut, made all the more devastating by the fact that the nurse had ducked his head into the blow. The force sent him up into the wall that, struck by the shield in a strategic place, had been weakened.
"Wow!" cried an intern in the hallway. "That guy was just punched through a wall!"
Captain America had already turned and running for the broken window. He leapt from the room as shouts of "Captain America" followed him. He hoped the nurse would be recognized as a criminal, but suspected that he would be blamed, that the authorities would accuse Captain America of attempting to murder two of their own. It didn’t matter. Another attempt would take time, and once Captain America left the city sudden deaths would raise unwanted questions.
# # # # #
Three rooftops from the hospital he came for Captain America, a flying man in a garish costume. Le Peregrine, France’s premier superhero.
"Halt Captain!" demanded the flying hero, in English. "Turn yourself in and make it easier for everyone!"
In mid-air, Captain America twisted and grabbed Le Peregrine’s outstretched wrist. "That would include the men responsible," he answered in French. His red-gloved fist slammed into Le Peregrine’s face. Seemingly no effort was used to toss the French hero like a ragdoll onto the same rooftop that Captain America himself landed on.
"Ughn."
Le Peregrine rolled across the rooftop. He tried to struggle to his feet, but Captain America’s boot to his face knocked the man out cold.
"You can fly," remarked Captain America as he ran from the unconscious Le Peregrine. "And I know you can fight. Learn to do both at the same time."
# # # # #
"I’m sorry, but he’s not in at this time."
It was a lie, and Jessica Jones knew it. Nothing in her face gave away that she saw through the receptionist, except maybe for her eyes. It was why she always wore the sunglasses, Jessica told herself. Had nothing to do with her bloodshot eyes, or that light aggravated her hangover.
"Sure, not in. Could you tell me when he’ll be back?"
That smile made Jessica grateful for the sunglasses. "Sorry. I’m not at liberty to give out the congressman’s schedule." She leaned forward and whispered. "Terrorism."
"I hadn’t heard."
Jessica turned away from the useless receptionist. Another advantage of the sunglasses was that Jessica could look at anything with her eyes and nobody would know. She’d scanned the office while seemingly wasting time with the phone girl. A man with a gun had been hovering outside the congressman’s personal office. Security personnel don’t usually guard empty offices.
The door had no sooner closed behind Jessica Jones than the receptionist pressed the intercom button. "She’s gone, sir."
"Thank you," stated the voice on the other end. In his office, the congressman breathed a sigh of relief. Private investigations were difficult to control, and therefore more dangerous. Something would have to be done about the woman, he decided while turning his chair to face the window.
Even facing it, the congressman only had the briefest of warnings before the window shattered. Then she was there, in his office, hand at his throat before a cry could be raised. The guard outside had heard the breaking glass, but when he broke down the door nobody was in the room.
Congressman under her arm, Jessica Jones appeared more to leap than fly across the New York sky. Certainly her landing on a rooftop several blocks away was anything but gentle. She threw the man down, not quite rough but it was clear Jessica didn’t give a damn about his health.
"Hnh, you…you can’t do this to me!" gasped out the congressmen in between deep breaths.
"Right," answered Jessica. "Because you say I can’t. Maybe if you told me why Jack Flagg is doing stupid things for you, I’ll learn to do it right."
# # # # #
He was dead when the detective arrived. Most likely the American broke his neck, explained one of the officers. But the detective shook his head, bent down to open the mouth, and found a hollow tooth.
“Cyanide, most likely,” stated the detective. “We’ll know for sure with an autopsy. The two patients?”
“They’ve been moved. One is still unconscious, but the other is hysterical, screaming about how they’re trying to kill him.”
“When he’s calmed down we should find out who ‘they’ are.”
“Sir!” Another officer was running down the hall, a radio in his hand. “Forensics at the other scene.”
“Thank you.” The detective took the radio and listened. When finished he said thank you and handed the radio back to the officer. “The gun was rigged. It would have fired even if no one had been in the room.”
Less and less of the case seemed right. A closed window when it should have been opened. Two officers who had been where they weren’t supposed to, and now an attempt on their lives. Suicidal assassins and automated rifles. Whether or not the American was involved, he was still somehow responsible, and needed to be found, questioned before more people died.
“We got a hit sir,” informed one officer who approached with a sheet of paper in his hand. “A train station, before we shut it down. One of the cameras there caught him.”
“That should have been done hours ago.” That morning in fact, when the manhunt for Captain America first began. But his superiors hadn’t thought the death of a young woman warranted closing off the city, no matter who killed him.
Whether or not the officer agreed he didn’t say. “He is heading south for Spain. We’ve already made arrangements to stop the train.”
“Yes, of course. But we should prepare in the event he’s not on it.” A man like Captain America knew police procedures and wouldn’t have made such a clumsy attempt at transportation. “We need to find out what sort of friends he would have in Europe. Also we should have helicopters in the countryside.”
“Sir, the expense of that will never be approved.”
“This time we have the attempted murder of a representative of the European Union. It will be approved.”
# # # # #
Morning was still a long way off when Captain America was within sight of the border. There was no line between nations, and he was far from any border checkpoint. Captain America had grown familiar with the European countryside during World War II. The Mosel River ran across the border, and once Captain America caught sight of it he ran alongside the river, knowing that eventually he would see the town on the border. Hopefully by then it would still be dark enough for him to creep across into Germany.
Rotors in the distance swept aside Captain America’s hopes. He didn’t have to turn back to know that two helicopters broke the horizon and were moving fast in his direction. The river is close. If they haven’t seen him yet then Captain America could still avoid detection.
Unfortunately one ‘copter pilot had caught sight of Captain America.
“Target has been spotted at one o’clock,” the pilot radioed to his counterpart in the second ‘copter. Both vehicles veered straight towards Captain America, who was still nowhere near the river.
No other choice, Captain America thought to himself. While running he removed the shield from his back. I’ll have to time this just right, or it’s their lives.
At a run, Captain America leapt from the ground, turned in mid-air, and hurled his shield at the helicopters. It whizzed through the air, almost as fast as the ‘copters themselves, and struck the lead bird directly below the rotor. It ricocheted off at even greater speeds that it had struck, and the shield flew at the second helicopter. The windshield became covered with cracks, obscuring the pilot’s vision and threatening to shatter every second the helicopter was moving at high speeds.
In less time that it took either pilot to notice, the shield did all this and finally struck the first helicopter’s tail rotor. The blade bent, and suddenly the helicopter had lost its reverse torque. As both helicopters struggled to land while maintaining the control, the shield returned towards Captain America at only a slightly higher angle that he’d originally thrown it, and much faster.
A millisecond before his own shield would have cut him in half, the still in mid-air Captain America leaned back and extended his arm. The shield passed over his chest and face, and when it flew over his arm Captain America managed to grab the strap in time. Its collision with the tail rotor had countered the shield’s own spin, so that it was flying straight. It therefore carried Captain America along instead of tearing his arm off, but that came close.
Now I know what Thor feels like.
Shield and man sliced into the water at nearly one hundred miles an hour. Any normal man would likely have been killed by the impact, but that didn’t cross the mind of one of the helicopter pilots when he witnessed it.
“We need backup units out here ASAP,” the pilot radioed after safely landing the crippled ‘copter. “He made it to the river.”
“Roger that,” came the reply. “We’re moving to secure the border now.”
In the course of that exchange, Captain America had already fought against the current into Germany. By the time French authorities had reached the border, Captain America had walked out of the river more than five miles past it. Fetid water dripped from the uniform, every muscle in his body ached as well as the lungs, and his right arm felt dead. But still Captain America couldn’t help but smile.
The second hardest part was over.
# # # # #
Finger with a dark green nail pressed the button. Green lips parted as she spoke. “We have reason to believe he crossed the border. Your services are required.”
“I already gave your people an answer,” the female voice replied over the speaker. “I said no even to considering this.”
“The fee will be tripled, even if all you do is talk him into surrendering. Others will not be so gentle.”
“He’ll kick the ass of anyone who tries, and mine too.”
“Meaning you will give him reason.” Those green lips curled upwards. “Meaning that you have accepted.”
“The names as previously agreed?”
“They will be provided. Several immediately. Our intelligence says they will be in the country during your assignment.”
“A bonus then. Forward me the arrangements.”
The connection broke off from the other end, but the caller did not mind. She leaned back in her luxurious seat, hands joined and green nails tapping against each other. In Germany he would find an ally, someone to watch his back. Allies were as much a hindrance as a help, and this one would only serve to drive him farther along the trail.
At the end she would be waiting.
# # # # #
On the door it said “Alias Investigations.” Catherine Webster, otherwise known as Free Spirit sat in the office behind it, patiently waiting for the woman who leased the office. Her message had been urgent, but indicated good news.
The door opened, and Cathy stood up as Jessica Jones walked into the room. She quickly closed the door behind her, and Cathy had thought she saw somebody still outside. Jessica Jones didn’t give the client any time to ask questions, however.
“I know who Jack Flagg is protecting and why.”
Cathy started to say something, but Jessica raised her hand and moved around her desk. There was a pack of cigarettes on it, which Jessica quickly tore open. She breathed deep when the cigarette was lit on between her lips.
“It was the congressman. He killed the woman, something about a sexual tryst.” Another long drag on the cigarette. It was supposed to calm her, but Jessica’s fingers were trembling. “Jack’s covering because he didn’t have a choice. The same way the congressman didn’t have a choice. Mind control.”
Cathy nodded. She’d suspected as much. “Have you figured out who’s doing this?”
“Yeah.” Cigarette dropped from Jessica’s fingers. Her eyes stared past Cathy. “He’s right behind you.”
It was Free Spirit that turned around, prepared to fight. The door was still closed, but she could see a shape, dark as a shadow, and moving closer. Only when the arm was around her throat did Free Spirit realize the shape had been Jessica’s shadow.
“He’s not that stupid,” Jessica whispered into Free Spirit’s ear. She then called out, “You can come in!”
He opened the door, a man with jet black skin and a face twisted into a macabre visage. He glared at Free Spirit with eyes that were full of anger and hate and everything else that was evil in the world. He moved closer, extending a hand towards the immobilized Free Spirit.
“Man calls himself the Corrupter,” Jessica Jones said to her captive. “Do I really have to tell you what he does?”
# # # # #
Mid-morning and Captain America was within sight of Frankfurt. Hundreds of miles in only a few hours, and if he wasn’t so exhausted Captain America thought he could have made better time. He had never run so far before, never pushed himself so hard even during the war. Something to explore later perhaps, but for the moment Captain America had more important things to do and an acquaintance to see.
Back in civilian clothes, Captain America walked towards the building located at the address he had. Taking clothes from the store hadn’t been a proud moment, but Captain America had the name and intended to send payment when he could. Adjusting the sunglasses as he crossed the street was a conscious act; the sun was directly over the building but Captain America wasn’t quite able to see the sign on the window. Some sort of non-profit organization, Captain America knew that much. He opened the door next to the window and climbed the stairs. The man he came to see lived above.
“I’m coming!” cried the voice in response to the knock at his door. It was German, but not native and a little rough. Captain America’s was better, but then he’d received training the other man never had.
When the door opened a man significantly younger than Captain America was standing there. As always the resemblance was unsettling, but Captain America composed himself and spoke.
“Hi, Jack.”
Jack Monroe blinked, taking another second to place the man who’d appeared at his door. “Steve? What are you…?”
“It’s a long story, but I need your help. Can I come in?”
“What? Yeah, I mean…sure.”
Still dazed by the sudden appearance of the man he’d idolized as a child, the man that had been Bucky to a different Captain America opened the door for the real thing.
There was only one window in Jack Monroe’s apartment, and when Captain America stepped in front of it she saw him through the sniper’s scope. On a rooftop across the street, Silver Sable tensed her finger over the trigger.
“Bang, traitor. You’re dead.”
NEXT ISSUE: Captain America attempts to enlist the aid of Jack Monroe, formerly known as Nomad, but first they’ll both have to contend with the famed mercenary Silver Sable and her Wild Pack! And don’t you dare miss the knock-down brawl between Free Spirit and a corrupted Jessica Jones!