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Issue #9 by Steve Crosby
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“NO MAN LEFT BEHIND”
PREVIOUSLY IN CAPTAIN AMERICA: Framed for the death of a young woman, Captain America went after the man he believed responsible, but found himself saving Flagsmasher from an apparent assassination. Framed for that as well, Captain America fled Paris for Germany. There he finds Jack Monroe, an ally who also goes by the name of Nomad. However, the famed mercenary Silver Sable has been hired by persons unknown to hunt Captain America. She is settled outside of Nomad’s apartment building, a rifle aimed at Captain America’s head.
Yes, she was falling out a fourth story window. Actually, no, as that would imply an accident. She’d jumped, crashed through a closed window and for her the ground couldn’t rush up to meet her fast enough. Which unfortunately it didn’t. She felt the tug at the back of her shirt mere inches from a parked car and was suddenly falling upwards. Another window broke under her weight, from a building on the other side of the street.
“Yaaa!”
Just moments ago, Cathy Webster had been alone in a room with a villain called the Corrupter and a mind-controlled ally who was far tougher than she was. Retreat had been the best option, hence the window. Unfortunately, Jessica Jones could fly. Hence the second window.
Cathy had been thrown into an office, telemarketers most likely as everybody was on the phone at the same time. Those phones were hung up pretty quickly; some not even as the operators just abandoned them to run. Through one cubicle wall and rolling across one abandoned desk went Cathy, a woman of above average speed and strength who sometimes went by the name of Free Spirit. Soaring through the window after her went Jessica Jones, a woman of super-human strength as well as flight.
“Uhn, I had better get my money back.”
She knew there wasn’t much chance in her favor, but Free Spirit shoved herself off the desk and prepared to fight anyway. Maybe she could at least outfight Jessica. Captain America had trained her, after all. But when Free Spirit stood to face the window, all she saw was the broken window. She also had the feeling that someone was behind her.
“Psst,” Jessica whispered in Free Spirit’s ear. “I’m faster than you.”
Fingers groped at Free Spirit’s hair, but thankfully it was still growing after being burnt off. A fist jabbed into her kidneys though, and that made Free Spirit arch her head back. It left her wide open for a forearm to the throat, a move she fortunately predicted and raised her own arms to block. What she got for this trouble were two arms that felt as though they’d been broken and her legs getting out from under her.
Jessica Jones was much, much stronger.
Her back crashing against the floor sent another jab of pain through Free Spirit’s kidneys. She had no chance to avoid Jessica’s foot colliding with her chin. Once that happened, it was lights out, with Free Spirit’s last thought being that she should have attended more of Cap’s training sessions.
# # # # #
“I need your help.”
Those were among Captain America’s first words. Jack Monroe’s first words: “You have it. Tell me what you know.”
A good kid, Captain America thought as he explained the situation. Jack Monroe was a much different man than James Buchanan Barnes was. Instead of being an army brat, Jack had been the son of a Nazi sympathizer who had been uncovered when Jack had innocently brought Nazi paraphernalia to school for Show and Tell. It hadn’t been training or government approval that put Jack into the costume of Bucky, but rather an acquaintance with another man named Steve Rogers, and his own injection of the Super-Soldier Serum. After that, and a very public debut fighting Communist agents, the government had had no choice but to endorse the new Captain America and Bucky.
It hadn’t been the boy’s fault, Captain America knew. The serum, taken without a treatment of Vita-Rays, hadn’t addled Jack’s mind. He had a good heart all along, evidenced by his actions since awakening from the suspended animation his 1950’s era government had placed him in. Disillusioned with his life, Jack had taken up the identity of Nomad and found his own path as a man.
That other Steve Rogers, he hadn’t been so lucky.
When Captain America had finished his tale of the events in Paris, Jack Monroe nodded his head. “All right. So what’s our first move.”
He’d grown into a good soldier as well, Captain America reflected. Unwavering loyalty and a willingness to follow. At times Jack had shown he could be capable of the opposite, but when it counted.
“We’ll need to move soon,” Captain America said aloud. “You’re a known contact of mine, and they’ll have this address. But hopefully I got here faster than they could have anticipated, so that should buy me time.”
Understanding made Jack grin. “Yeah.” He jerked his head at a closed door. “You’re welcome to crash on my bed. I’ll keep an eye out, start on anybody that comes by looking for trouble.”
He knew Captain America would wake up on his own and get into the thick of things right away. Once upon only James – the real Bucky – had known Cap that well. Now there were a lot of people, good people that Steve was willing to trust with his life.
But still he was always hesitant to risk theirs. As Captain America started towards the bedroom, passing a window that looked outside, he added, “If that’s as involved as you want to be, I’ll understand.”
Again Jack grinned, shaking his head the whole time. “I’ll be knee-deep in this thing anyway if they come after you here. But as far as I’m concerned it’s whether or not.”
Turns out it became the whether, as soon as the bullet flew through the window and into Captain America’s skull.
“Cap!”
No blood. Jack Monroe was thankful for that at least. Captain America, a man he’d idolized his entire life, lay on the ground dazed, semi-conscious, but not dead. A bullet had struck the man in the head, but he lived. A rubber bullet, and hopefully passing through a closed window had slowed it enough to prevent serious damage.
“Uhn,” groaned the living legend. Already he was struggling to his feet.
Those thoughts went through Jack’s mind first thing. Second was action and, since Captain America didn’t need immediate attention, that meant beating the ass of whoever shot him. Jack Monroe ran at the window, but it was Nomad who crashed through it.
Across the street, a second shot was fired. That time, the only thing between a bullet and Captain America was something more substantial than glass. Nomad felt it in the chest, against his top left rib. In mid-air there was no way he could have maneuvered and for any other shots he would be a sitting duck. All Nomad could do was keep going forward, in a jump that no normal person could have made unless they were also a recipient of the Super-Soldier Serum.
One more shot before Nomad made it across the street, straight for his head. That at least he was able to move, tilt it to the side so that the bullet only grazed off the edge of his forehead. Two shots, each reducing Nomad’s momentum drastically so that he had to stretch an arm and reach for the rooftop edge. Fingers closed over stone. A body slammed against brick mortar. An arm was almost torn from its socket keeping the two connected.
Nomad raised his head and saw that rifle aimed straight at his face. Behind it was a sculptured form of porcelain perfection clad in skin-tight silver, with hair was white as platinum. Nomad recognized her as Silver Sable, famed mercenary.
“Long way down,” remarked Silver Sable. “Allow me to help you on your way.”
Bang!
It took an excruciating effort for Nomad to raise his other arm. The searing heat of the rifle barrel when he gripped it was even worse. But he was successful in pushing the rifle aside when it fired, then in pulling it down and Silver Sable with it.
“Ladies first.”
“Yahh!”
As Silver Sable teetered over the roof’s edge, Nomad used his other arm to haul himself up. A sudden weight took hold of his leg, however, so that Nomad only had his upper body on the roof. The clatter of something metal hitting the ground reached his ears, and Nomad turned his head to see that only the rifle had fallen all the way. The other thing had managed to grab his ankle.
Silver Sable only had hold of Nomad for as long as she needed, for leverage. A kick off the wall and she had the momentum to jump straight into the air. As she flipped over Nomad onto the roof, he quickly pulled himself up and was almost in a kneeling position when the sole of a silver stiletto smashed into his face. Only the quick-grab of Silver Sable’s leg kept Nomad on the roof. A yank pulled him up onto his feet and towards her.
“Bitch!”
A wildly thrown punch only glanced off Silver Sable’s shoulder, but she felt it. Nomad was stronger and faster, but she was skilled. And well armed, as evidenced by the knife she drew. A swipe that was meant to force Nomad back drew blood across his chest. Preferable to falling backwards off a roof.
One hand reached out, grabbed Silver Sable’s wrist. The other hand shot forward, clasped around Silver Sable’s throat. She was not so much pushed as she was carried backwards as Nomad rushed forward. Fortunately she had another hand free, and with it found nerve clusters under Nomad’s arm, effectively killing it.
“Aahh!”
Dead fingers released Silver Sable’s wrist, and the knife was free to strike. Once, twice, three plunges into Nomad’s side, and he could feel the blood flow. Instinct told Nomad to maintain the grip, even tighten it; the situation had become kill or be killed. A gurgle escaped Silver Sable’s throat, a sound more wet than airy. Would she choke before he bled to death? At that point, did it even matter? Nomad didn’t care anymore.
Out of nowhere, another hand came to snatch Silver Sable’s knife hand by the wrist. Then Nomad felt a pressure on his arm, soothing but firm on a nerve that effectively killed his grip. Disarmed and semi-conscious, Silver Sable was released, and a dazed Nomad fell back against a recovered Captain America.
“Stay with me soldier,” ordered Captain America. “Our work’s not done yet.”
# # # # #
A riot nearly broke out in the rec room when programming was interrupted for a special report. Jack wasn’t among those acting up, wasn’t doing much of anything until he saw what was on the television. A woman had jumped, attempted suicide but was saved by a flying woman. Part of the incident had been captured on video, and Jack recognized the falling woman.
There was something else. A shape appeared briefly in the broken window where Free Spirit had jumped from. A dark shape who was a man that Jack Flagg recognized.
“No.”
Promises and threats retreated from Jack Flagg’s mind. The man and the life he was protecting no longer mattered. A friend had gotten involved, was in trouble. Only Jack knew what it was all about and he was in prison and had to get out.
Several inmates were scuffling. Correction Officers were in the room, breaking up the disturbances. Moving faster than any of them Jack was out of his chair and in one CO’s face. One hand grabbed the baton from the CO’s hand and another shoved him against the wall. The room hadn’t yet been locked down, but three inmates and another CO were between Jack and the exit. Three swipes of the baton brought down the inmates, and the CO Jack grabbed by the arm and threw aside.
Out the door and Jack was in the hallway. Across the hall was only a wall, but it was the outer wall. Jack didn’t have much time. More CO’s would arrive soon with gas and tasers, and Jack would be overwhelmed. So Jack charged and slammed his shoulder against the wall and felt a satisfying crack that wasn’t bone. He pushed away from the wall, raised his leg and kicked. Once, twice, three times and the cracks spiderwebbed across the wall.
Again Jack charged. He could hear the running footsteps of CO’s. It was now or never. Concrete buckled. Light began to glimmer through cracks. Jack pushed through, into the sunlight, shoved through the remains of the wall and ran. Just ahead was the fence, and beyond that the cliff overlooking cold water. Far off in the distance Jack Flagg could see New York City.
At a run his jump easily cleared the twelve-foot fence. The jump also had distance, clearing the cliff so that Jack careened straight into the icy waters below. Crashing waves enveloped his body, but Jack embraced them, accepted the numbing of his sore muscles.
I’m coming for you, Jack Flagg silently vowed as he disappeared into the choppy surf.
# # # # #
From bad to worst. There were other contacts in Germany, but Nomad had been the one Captain America was least willing to risk. He hated it, that there was a person he’d consider most expendable. Particularly after what Nomad had just done for him. The situation had altered Captain America’s way of thinking, and he went to the contact with the resources most required.
That was how Nomad came to wake up on a hospital bed. Captain America stood over him, regretful that he hadn’t been there the entire time. It’d been worthwhile time, however.
“You’re in a clinic,” Captain America informed Nomad. “I know one of the doctors, so for now it’s safe. The bullet in your chest has been removed, and the serious injuries were sewn up. From what I’ve seen, you should be as good as new in a few hours.” Like Captain America, Nomad was able to heal at a slightly above-average rate.
There was some difficulty on Nomad’s part to speak, at first. “Is she…that Silver Sable, how…?”
“Alive. In a little better condition than you, but it’s likely you would have killed each other. I’ve been talking to her.” Captain America gave a brief glance at something behind him, outside of Nomad’s sight. “She’s agreed to take me to who hired her. Jack, I won’t have time to wait until you’re fit to go.”
“Then…I’m ready now,” grunted Nomad as he sat up in the bed. His skull felt like it’d been split open, and his side seemed to be on fire. The slightest movement was agony, but Nomad swung his legs over the side. “It might be a double-cross. You’ll need me.”
“Glad to hear it soldier.” Captain America made a slight offer of his arm, a gesture of courtesy, really, and he didn’t press when Nomad failed to accept it. Instead he turned and pulled aside the curtain that had surrounded Nomad’s bed. “While I trust Silver Sable to keep her word, it’s best to be prepared, just in case.”
Beyond the curtain, Silver Sable sat bound to a chair, held by ropes that had been expertly tied by Captain America. He now undid those ties, and allowed Silver Sable to stand. She made a point of rubbing her neck while glaring at Nomad. He matched the glare, and his hand subconsciously went to his side. Between them, Captain America saw the animosity, and was quick to address it.
“We need to put what happened aside and do what needs to be done. The people behind this are who we need to focus on. I’m counting on the two of you.”
Silver Sable didn’t glance at Captain America. As she spoke, her focus remained on Nomad. “I have not been entirely convinced about who hired me, but I believed you did not do what they say. So I will take you to them, risk my reputation in the hopes that it will be justified. One thing I want clear. I will only be counting on you.”
“Same goes here,” said Nomad. “And just so you know, lady, we ever see each other after this-”
But Silver Sable turned her back on Nomad. “Let us go. The words of Reich-children waste time.”
Nomad shifted his eyes to Captain America. He shook his head. “The best thing you can do is the job at hand. Changing minds can come later.” Then Cap turned to follow Silver Sable.
Nomad hurried after them, wincing with each step. “How are we going to get to…where we’re going? You’re a fugitive in full costume.”
“It’s almost dusk now,” replied Captain America. He walked through the door, opened seconds ago by Silver Sable. “That should help. And we’ll be taking her car.”
More of a van, really. Just outside the clinic, parked in an alleyway almost too narrow for it. As such there was only one way in, through the large back doors that Silver Sable had just opened. She turned as the two men approached. “Come. I trust you can put the restraints on yourself while I drive.”
“Restraints?” Nomad shot Captain America a look. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“It’s all part of the plan,” Captain America told him. “I’ll explain as you help me with the restraints. As long as everybody trusts each other and does their part, nothing will go wrong.”
“So says the general before the first shot is fired,” muttered Nomad.
# # # # #
Night and the darkness it brings had fallen over Berlin by the time of the meeting. Silver Sable’s van, painted a silvery white, stood out alone in the darkened parking lot. Small as her frame appeared, the mercenary had little trouble carrying a limp Captain America and his shield out of the vehicle and past the fence. Her employer waited off at the edge of the loading dock, along with several armed men in riot gear uniforms.
“He is alive?” asked the man. His features were obscured by shadow.
Silver Sable dropped Captain America to the ground. The shield she placed carefully beside her. “Unconscious, probably with a concussion, but alive. You’re not who I dealt with,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Even with the voice scrambler, I could tell it was a woman.”
A small chuckle from the man. “No, I am merely acting as in-between. So long as I have the names, I should not matter.”
“No,” Silver Sable agreed. “As long as you have the names.” She extended her hand out, a gesture of demanding payment. Instead, the man chuckled some more, and those around him leveled their weapons at Silver Sable.
“Those names belong to me who, old and powerless as they may now be, still have their uses in disrupting the world order. Did you really think that such resources would be handed over to you in exchange for one man?”
Silver Sable raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I do. The names.”
A brief sigh, but then the man reach into his jacket and produced a disk. “Worth a try, at least.” He stepped forward, and laid the disk on Silver Sable’s hand. “Over three dozen war criminals, former Nazis in hiding. All those still alive, though if you don’t hurry a few names will be among those dead. More every year.”
“It’s not soon enough.” The disk was slipped into a compartment on Silver Sable’s belt. “Then it would seem our business is concluded. I will leave this fugitive to your justice.”
At a gesture from their employer, the armed men started towards Captain America. Silver Sable stepped in the way of one, however, and looked up into the helmet’s faceplate. “Hmm.”
“What? Move aside.”
“Interesting lighting around here,” Silver Sable observed. “I thought I saw a tint of green beneath your helmet.”
Up went her fist, a powerful jab that shattered the glass and the face behind it. The man she’d struck staggered back, his gun falling to the floor and the remains of his helmet falling away. Now that the head was bare, it was plain that his head was not bare. In fact, it was completely covered by a green facemask, the sort worn by agents of HYDRA.
“As I thought.” As she spoke, Silver Sable was in motion, picking up Captain America’s shield as she swung around. The other men, agents of HYDRA all, had raised their weapons and fired. But the bullets simply bounced off the shield, protecting Silver Sable as she drew her own firearm. Swiftly but carefully she took aim and prepared to fire.
A shape appeared over the disguised HYDRA agents. It was Nomad, having leaped from his location atop an adjourning building. Into the packed group of armed terrorists he crashed, fists and feet flying. More glass shattered, and riot gear armor proved little protection against the young man’s enhanced strength. One man he picked up and hurled bodily at the others, sending them all to the ground.
Weapons scattered. One came to a stop at the feet of the last HYDRA man standing. The leader, who picked up the rifle and leveled it at Nomad and Silver Sable. “How fortunate. Two opponents removed, the names recovered, and still we take Captain America!” The rifle went off, aimed straight for Nomad.
Silver Sable had already started moving. With the shield in front of her, she dove in front of Nomad, protecting him from the blast. No sooner was she on the ground than Nomad had rushed forward, reaching the HYDRA leader just as he was about to get another shot off. Again, Nomad had his hand on a rifle barrel as it fired, pushing the gun away for a harmless shot and painfully burning himself in the process. With his other hand, Nomad cocked the HYDRA leader across the face. The man fell to the ground, out cold.
“You are certainly a glutton for punishment,” Silver Sable observed.
Nursing both his hands, Nomad turned and nodded. “Not everybody can be expertly trained. I have to compensate somehow.” He started towards Captain America, who still lay on the ground, fully conscious but bound by the restraints. “Are you all right, Cap?”
“Fine,” replied Captain America. “Silver Sable, if you would.”
“Of course,” Dropping the shield where she was, Silver Sable bent over and undid the restraints, freeing Captain America. “These men I will leave to you. My payment has been received.”
“Understood.” Once freed, Captain America jumped to his feet and snatched up the shield. Before either Silver Sable or Nomad could do anything, Captain America threw the shield high into the sky, towards the roof of a nearby building. It struck something, and everybody saw a man fall from the roof. “Cut off one limb and two more will take its place. HYDRA reinforcements have arrived.”
“As you were, gentlemen,” Silver Sable remarked as Captain America and Nomad rushed to meet the enemy. She moved in the opposite direction, towards the van with her gun drawn. “My part in this is done."
# # # # #
Danielle Webster had never met Drake Flagg before. As far as she was concerned, they were just two people who only knew of each other through mutual acquaintances, in this case their relatives. Danielle supposed that was why she stood outside the door to Drake’s apartment, why she agreed to meet with him. Her sister Cathy had been missing for over a day, as was the detective Cathy had hired.
The door opened and there was a man in a wheelchair. Drake Flagg. Cathy had told her sister about what had happened to him, how he’d been part of a neighborhood watch group and been brutally beaten by a gang. Even knowing it though, Danielle couldn’t help but stare at the wheelchair, and instantly felt guilty that she was doing so.
“Hi. Danielle,” Drake greeted with some hesitation, unsure if he should be so familiar with her. “Thank you for coming over.”
“You said you had an idea about what happened to Cathy?” She started to walk into the apartment, but just beyond the doorway Drake was blocking her way. She paused, suddenly uncomfortable.
When Drake quickly realized that she couldn’t get in, his hand went to the control stick on his wheelchair. “Sorry,” he blurted while backing up. That only made Danielle more uncomfortable, but she remained silent and followed him.
For the most part, Drake’s apartment was well kept, except for a damp towel on the floor. Danielle soon saw what the towel had been for, as Jack Flagg was standing near the closed off window, dressed in a uniform of some kind and still shivering. His red hair was all streaks of red, white and blue, and in his hands appeared to be a long handkerchief.
“I told Jack we didn’t have time to wait for you,” explained Drake. “But he insisted. Well, Jack, she’s here, and if the police aren’t here now they’re getting closer with every second. You could have just grabbed the gear and left but you insisted on telling us both something. So go on and spill it!”
“You should know I didn’t kill that girl,” said Jack. “I may have said I did, in my right mind and of my own accord, but the fact is I was protecting a man who wasn’t in his right mind. The reason behind it all is blackmail, pure and simple. And I was fine with it, because exposing the blackmail would have been almost as bad and I was confident that Cap or somebody else would have quietly handled this eventually.”
Jack Flagg turned from the covered window, faced his brother and Free Spirit’s sister as he continued to speak. “Unfortunately that hasn’t happened. Free Spirit got caught up in this mess, may already be dead for all I know. Maybe I made a mistake in not wanting to speak to anybody but the big guns, and now I need to go make things right. Or at least try.”
The handkerchief in Jack’s hands was raised, and Danielle saw two eyeholes, and that half the fabric was a blue field with stars and the other half was red and white stripes. “Somebody had to be told, at the least. Most anybody else would have me arrested, or at least hold me while they handle it themselves, and this is my mess to fix. In case I fail though, I should tell somebody and I’m telling you. Drake, you can pass the word to the right people, and they’ll listen to you. And Danielle, well, you should know what Cathy got caught up in because of me.”
The mask went over Jack Flagg’s face. Jack tied it at the back of his head even as he explained exactly what had been going on and the stupid mistake he’d made of going along with it. Danielle didn’t much recognize the names he gave, but Drake gasped.
“Jack, those are madmen, fiends who can get you killed or worse. We need to get some help. You can’t take them alone, and if Cathy’s not dead you may end up fighting her too.”
But Jack Flagg shook his head. “At the least I need to try and fix this mess on my own. If things go bad, maybe somebody can get me out of it all right. But if not, it’s the least I deserve.” Jack turned his back, but as he moved aside the curtain he spoke again, to his brother. “I love you, Drake.”
Tears had started to form in Drake Flag’s eyes. “I love you too, Jack. But please, don’t go through with-”
But the words fell on deaf ears. Jack Flagg had jumped out the window into the city, and perhaps to certain death.
# # # # #
“Tell me who’s behind this!”
An empty question, as the man asked was unable to answer. Captain America had his fingers shoved in the mouth of the man, the terrorist of HYDRA. They groped under the tongue, pressed against each tooth, searched futilely for the cause to a process that had already begun. Once he accepted that his fingers were in a dead man’s mouth, that he was asking questions of a dead man, Captain America abandoned the attempt.
Nomad placed his hand on Captain America’s shoulder. “They’re all dead, Captain. Every one by his own hand.”
The bodies lay all around them. Nearly a hundred men in green, all fanatical members of the terrorist organization HYDRA. Together, Captain America and Nomad had overpowered them all, dodged gunshots and overwhelmed the strength in numbers. For Nomad, the experience had been particularly taxing. His stitched wounds had torn open, allowing blood to seep down his body. Bleeding and tired, the once-sidekick to a fraud Captain America had helped to defeat nearly a hundred men, all without killing or even seriously injuring a single one.
The last of the dead HYDRA agents was dropped to the floor. Captain America stood tall, scanned over the bodies. “Okay, so nobody can talk. We’ll have to search the bodies. Start with him.” He pointed to the body of a man Nomad had disabled much earlier. “He was the most likely leader of this operation. There might be something on him that could help us.”
Nomad started the search, going through pockets and obviously uncomfortable at doing so. “This…how can so many people like this exist? What could they believe in so much that they would…my god.”
“God is the one thing they don’t believe in,” answered Captain America. “HYDRA’s sole purpose is the eradication of life, of tearing down everything that has meaning or purpose until there’s nothing left. I agree, Jack. Even suicide bombers…in taking others with them, they at least die for a purpose. This, dying for nothing…its beyond terrifying. Don’t touch the mask!” The warning came a little harsh, when Captain America saw Nomad reach for the leader’s mask. “It’s harder when you see their faces. Most of the time, too many are too young.”
“A lot of them were taken from the ranks of Nazis, in the beginning, right?” Captain America nodded, and Nomad couldn’t help but shiver. “God, if I’d never gotten my father into trouble, never met St- that teacher, I could have ended up like this. Even then, I came too close to being like this.”
“Everybody reaches those points,” Captain America told him. “There have been times when I’ve struggled. The worst thing is that these men had nobody to help them through those times. Nobody except those willing to exploit the difficulties in an individual’s life.”
Nomad was nodding. “Yeah, that’s partly why I moved here to Germany. America, hell, New York alone is full of people like us. But here in Europe…I can barely think of a handful.”
“That’ll change the longer you’re here. Europe has its heroes. We just don’t hear about them very much in America.”
“Maybe. Hey, this looks like something.” Nomad had pulled out a small ticket stub from the HYDRA leader’s pocket. “A lot of names and numbers. I don’t recognize any of them.”
He handed the ticket to Captain America, who took one look and said, “These are towns from Italy. There’s a toll-supported highway there. See,” Captain America pointed at the name on top of the ticket. “This was where he got on. That’s not very far from Rome.”
“That’s where we’re going next?”
But Captain America shook his head. “No. Flagsmasher is involved in this. He’s from Switzerland, and so is the entire Vatican Guard. It’s a long reach, but I can’t shake the feeling that HYDRA’s next strike will be at Vatican City. That is where we’re going next.”
NEXT ISSUE: A short break from the story-arc, as Captain America takes time in Germany to pay respects to a man that…beat him!? A special story set in the days of World War II.
Yes, she was falling out a fourth story window. Actually, no, as that would imply an accident. She’d jumped, crashed through a closed window and for her the ground couldn’t rush up to meet her fast enough. Which unfortunately it didn’t. She felt the tug at the back of her shirt mere inches from a parked car and was suddenly falling upwards. Another window broke under her weight, from a building on the other side of the street.
“Yaaa!”
Just moments ago, Cathy Webster had been alone in a room with a villain called the Corrupter and a mind-controlled ally who was far tougher than she was. Retreat had been the best option, hence the window. Unfortunately, Jessica Jones could fly. Hence the second window.
Cathy had been thrown into an office, telemarketers most likely as everybody was on the phone at the same time. Those phones were hung up pretty quickly; some not even as the operators just abandoned them to run. Through one cubicle wall and rolling across one abandoned desk went Cathy, a woman of above average speed and strength who sometimes went by the name of Free Spirit. Soaring through the window after her went Jessica Jones, a woman of super-human strength as well as flight.
“Uhn, I had better get my money back.”
She knew there wasn’t much chance in her favor, but Free Spirit shoved herself off the desk and prepared to fight anyway. Maybe she could at least outfight Jessica. Captain America had trained her, after all. But when Free Spirit stood to face the window, all she saw was the broken window. She also had the feeling that someone was behind her.
“Psst,” Jessica whispered in Free Spirit’s ear. “I’m faster than you.”
Fingers groped at Free Spirit’s hair, but thankfully it was still growing after being burnt off. A fist jabbed into her kidneys though, and that made Free Spirit arch her head back. It left her wide open for a forearm to the throat, a move she fortunately predicted and raised her own arms to block. What she got for this trouble were two arms that felt as though they’d been broken and her legs getting out from under her.
Jessica Jones was much, much stronger.
Her back crashing against the floor sent another jab of pain through Free Spirit’s kidneys. She had no chance to avoid Jessica’s foot colliding with her chin. Once that happened, it was lights out, with Free Spirit’s last thought being that she should have attended more of Cap’s training sessions.
# # # # #
“I need your help.”
Those were among Captain America’s first words. Jack Monroe’s first words: “You have it. Tell me what you know.”
A good kid, Captain America thought as he explained the situation. Jack Monroe was a much different man than James Buchanan Barnes was. Instead of being an army brat, Jack had been the son of a Nazi sympathizer who had been uncovered when Jack had innocently brought Nazi paraphernalia to school for Show and Tell. It hadn’t been training or government approval that put Jack into the costume of Bucky, but rather an acquaintance with another man named Steve Rogers, and his own injection of the Super-Soldier Serum. After that, and a very public debut fighting Communist agents, the government had had no choice but to endorse the new Captain America and Bucky.
It hadn’t been the boy’s fault, Captain America knew. The serum, taken without a treatment of Vita-Rays, hadn’t addled Jack’s mind. He had a good heart all along, evidenced by his actions since awakening from the suspended animation his 1950’s era government had placed him in. Disillusioned with his life, Jack had taken up the identity of Nomad and found his own path as a man.
That other Steve Rogers, he hadn’t been so lucky.
When Captain America had finished his tale of the events in Paris, Jack Monroe nodded his head. “All right. So what’s our first move.”
He’d grown into a good soldier as well, Captain America reflected. Unwavering loyalty and a willingness to follow. At times Jack had shown he could be capable of the opposite, but when it counted.
“We’ll need to move soon,” Captain America said aloud. “You’re a known contact of mine, and they’ll have this address. But hopefully I got here faster than they could have anticipated, so that should buy me time.”
Understanding made Jack grin. “Yeah.” He jerked his head at a closed door. “You’re welcome to crash on my bed. I’ll keep an eye out, start on anybody that comes by looking for trouble.”
He knew Captain America would wake up on his own and get into the thick of things right away. Once upon only James – the real Bucky – had known Cap that well. Now there were a lot of people, good people that Steve was willing to trust with his life.
But still he was always hesitant to risk theirs. As Captain America started towards the bedroom, passing a window that looked outside, he added, “If that’s as involved as you want to be, I’ll understand.”
Again Jack grinned, shaking his head the whole time. “I’ll be knee-deep in this thing anyway if they come after you here. But as far as I’m concerned it’s whether or not.”
Turns out it became the whether, as soon as the bullet flew through the window and into Captain America’s skull.
“Cap!”
No blood. Jack Monroe was thankful for that at least. Captain America, a man he’d idolized his entire life, lay on the ground dazed, semi-conscious, but not dead. A bullet had struck the man in the head, but he lived. A rubber bullet, and hopefully passing through a closed window had slowed it enough to prevent serious damage.
“Uhn,” groaned the living legend. Already he was struggling to his feet.
Those thoughts went through Jack’s mind first thing. Second was action and, since Captain America didn’t need immediate attention, that meant beating the ass of whoever shot him. Jack Monroe ran at the window, but it was Nomad who crashed through it.
Across the street, a second shot was fired. That time, the only thing between a bullet and Captain America was something more substantial than glass. Nomad felt it in the chest, against his top left rib. In mid-air there was no way he could have maneuvered and for any other shots he would be a sitting duck. All Nomad could do was keep going forward, in a jump that no normal person could have made unless they were also a recipient of the Super-Soldier Serum.
One more shot before Nomad made it across the street, straight for his head. That at least he was able to move, tilt it to the side so that the bullet only grazed off the edge of his forehead. Two shots, each reducing Nomad’s momentum drastically so that he had to stretch an arm and reach for the rooftop edge. Fingers closed over stone. A body slammed against brick mortar. An arm was almost torn from its socket keeping the two connected.
Nomad raised his head and saw that rifle aimed straight at his face. Behind it was a sculptured form of porcelain perfection clad in skin-tight silver, with hair was white as platinum. Nomad recognized her as Silver Sable, famed mercenary.
“Long way down,” remarked Silver Sable. “Allow me to help you on your way.”
Bang!
It took an excruciating effort for Nomad to raise his other arm. The searing heat of the rifle barrel when he gripped it was even worse. But he was successful in pushing the rifle aside when it fired, then in pulling it down and Silver Sable with it.
“Ladies first.”
“Yahh!”
As Silver Sable teetered over the roof’s edge, Nomad used his other arm to haul himself up. A sudden weight took hold of his leg, however, so that Nomad only had his upper body on the roof. The clatter of something metal hitting the ground reached his ears, and Nomad turned his head to see that only the rifle had fallen all the way. The other thing had managed to grab his ankle.
Silver Sable only had hold of Nomad for as long as she needed, for leverage. A kick off the wall and she had the momentum to jump straight into the air. As she flipped over Nomad onto the roof, he quickly pulled himself up and was almost in a kneeling position when the sole of a silver stiletto smashed into his face. Only the quick-grab of Silver Sable’s leg kept Nomad on the roof. A yank pulled him up onto his feet and towards her.
“Bitch!”
A wildly thrown punch only glanced off Silver Sable’s shoulder, but she felt it. Nomad was stronger and faster, but she was skilled. And well armed, as evidenced by the knife she drew. A swipe that was meant to force Nomad back drew blood across his chest. Preferable to falling backwards off a roof.
One hand reached out, grabbed Silver Sable’s wrist. The other hand shot forward, clasped around Silver Sable’s throat. She was not so much pushed as she was carried backwards as Nomad rushed forward. Fortunately she had another hand free, and with it found nerve clusters under Nomad’s arm, effectively killing it.
“Aahh!”
Dead fingers released Silver Sable’s wrist, and the knife was free to strike. Once, twice, three plunges into Nomad’s side, and he could feel the blood flow. Instinct told Nomad to maintain the grip, even tighten it; the situation had become kill or be killed. A gurgle escaped Silver Sable’s throat, a sound more wet than airy. Would she choke before he bled to death? At that point, did it even matter? Nomad didn’t care anymore.
Out of nowhere, another hand came to snatch Silver Sable’s knife hand by the wrist. Then Nomad felt a pressure on his arm, soothing but firm on a nerve that effectively killed his grip. Disarmed and semi-conscious, Silver Sable was released, and a dazed Nomad fell back against a recovered Captain America.
“Stay with me soldier,” ordered Captain America. “Our work’s not done yet.”
# # # # #
A riot nearly broke out in the rec room when programming was interrupted for a special report. Jack wasn’t among those acting up, wasn’t doing much of anything until he saw what was on the television. A woman had jumped, attempted suicide but was saved by a flying woman. Part of the incident had been captured on video, and Jack recognized the falling woman.
There was something else. A shape appeared briefly in the broken window where Free Spirit had jumped from. A dark shape who was a man that Jack Flagg recognized.
“No.”
Promises and threats retreated from Jack Flagg’s mind. The man and the life he was protecting no longer mattered. A friend had gotten involved, was in trouble. Only Jack knew what it was all about and he was in prison and had to get out.
Several inmates were scuffling. Correction Officers were in the room, breaking up the disturbances. Moving faster than any of them Jack was out of his chair and in one CO’s face. One hand grabbed the baton from the CO’s hand and another shoved him against the wall. The room hadn’t yet been locked down, but three inmates and another CO were between Jack and the exit. Three swipes of the baton brought down the inmates, and the CO Jack grabbed by the arm and threw aside.
Out the door and Jack was in the hallway. Across the hall was only a wall, but it was the outer wall. Jack didn’t have much time. More CO’s would arrive soon with gas and tasers, and Jack would be overwhelmed. So Jack charged and slammed his shoulder against the wall and felt a satisfying crack that wasn’t bone. He pushed away from the wall, raised his leg and kicked. Once, twice, three times and the cracks spiderwebbed across the wall.
Again Jack charged. He could hear the running footsteps of CO’s. It was now or never. Concrete buckled. Light began to glimmer through cracks. Jack pushed through, into the sunlight, shoved through the remains of the wall and ran. Just ahead was the fence, and beyond that the cliff overlooking cold water. Far off in the distance Jack Flagg could see New York City.
At a run his jump easily cleared the twelve-foot fence. The jump also had distance, clearing the cliff so that Jack careened straight into the icy waters below. Crashing waves enveloped his body, but Jack embraced them, accepted the numbing of his sore muscles.
I’m coming for you, Jack Flagg silently vowed as he disappeared into the choppy surf.
# # # # #
From bad to worst. There were other contacts in Germany, but Nomad had been the one Captain America was least willing to risk. He hated it, that there was a person he’d consider most expendable. Particularly after what Nomad had just done for him. The situation had altered Captain America’s way of thinking, and he went to the contact with the resources most required.
That was how Nomad came to wake up on a hospital bed. Captain America stood over him, regretful that he hadn’t been there the entire time. It’d been worthwhile time, however.
“You’re in a clinic,” Captain America informed Nomad. “I know one of the doctors, so for now it’s safe. The bullet in your chest has been removed, and the serious injuries were sewn up. From what I’ve seen, you should be as good as new in a few hours.” Like Captain America, Nomad was able to heal at a slightly above-average rate.
There was some difficulty on Nomad’s part to speak, at first. “Is she…that Silver Sable, how…?”
“Alive. In a little better condition than you, but it’s likely you would have killed each other. I’ve been talking to her.” Captain America gave a brief glance at something behind him, outside of Nomad’s sight. “She’s agreed to take me to who hired her. Jack, I won’t have time to wait until you’re fit to go.”
“Then…I’m ready now,” grunted Nomad as he sat up in the bed. His skull felt like it’d been split open, and his side seemed to be on fire. The slightest movement was agony, but Nomad swung his legs over the side. “It might be a double-cross. You’ll need me.”
“Glad to hear it soldier.” Captain America made a slight offer of his arm, a gesture of courtesy, really, and he didn’t press when Nomad failed to accept it. Instead he turned and pulled aside the curtain that had surrounded Nomad’s bed. “While I trust Silver Sable to keep her word, it’s best to be prepared, just in case.”
Beyond the curtain, Silver Sable sat bound to a chair, held by ropes that had been expertly tied by Captain America. He now undid those ties, and allowed Silver Sable to stand. She made a point of rubbing her neck while glaring at Nomad. He matched the glare, and his hand subconsciously went to his side. Between them, Captain America saw the animosity, and was quick to address it.
“We need to put what happened aside and do what needs to be done. The people behind this are who we need to focus on. I’m counting on the two of you.”
Silver Sable didn’t glance at Captain America. As she spoke, her focus remained on Nomad. “I have not been entirely convinced about who hired me, but I believed you did not do what they say. So I will take you to them, risk my reputation in the hopes that it will be justified. One thing I want clear. I will only be counting on you.”
“Same goes here,” said Nomad. “And just so you know, lady, we ever see each other after this-”
But Silver Sable turned her back on Nomad. “Let us go. The words of Reich-children waste time.”
Nomad shifted his eyes to Captain America. He shook his head. “The best thing you can do is the job at hand. Changing minds can come later.” Then Cap turned to follow Silver Sable.
Nomad hurried after them, wincing with each step. “How are we going to get to…where we’re going? You’re a fugitive in full costume.”
“It’s almost dusk now,” replied Captain America. He walked through the door, opened seconds ago by Silver Sable. “That should help. And we’ll be taking her car.”
More of a van, really. Just outside the clinic, parked in an alleyway almost too narrow for it. As such there was only one way in, through the large back doors that Silver Sable had just opened. She turned as the two men approached. “Come. I trust you can put the restraints on yourself while I drive.”
“Restraints?” Nomad shot Captain America a look. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“It’s all part of the plan,” Captain America told him. “I’ll explain as you help me with the restraints. As long as everybody trusts each other and does their part, nothing will go wrong.”
“So says the general before the first shot is fired,” muttered Nomad.
# # # # #
Night and the darkness it brings had fallen over Berlin by the time of the meeting. Silver Sable’s van, painted a silvery white, stood out alone in the darkened parking lot. Small as her frame appeared, the mercenary had little trouble carrying a limp Captain America and his shield out of the vehicle and past the fence. Her employer waited off at the edge of the loading dock, along with several armed men in riot gear uniforms.
“He is alive?” asked the man. His features were obscured by shadow.
Silver Sable dropped Captain America to the ground. The shield she placed carefully beside her. “Unconscious, probably with a concussion, but alive. You’re not who I dealt with,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Even with the voice scrambler, I could tell it was a woman.”
A small chuckle from the man. “No, I am merely acting as in-between. So long as I have the names, I should not matter.”
“No,” Silver Sable agreed. “As long as you have the names.” She extended her hand out, a gesture of demanding payment. Instead, the man chuckled some more, and those around him leveled their weapons at Silver Sable.
“Those names belong to me who, old and powerless as they may now be, still have their uses in disrupting the world order. Did you really think that such resources would be handed over to you in exchange for one man?”
Silver Sable raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I do. The names.”
A brief sigh, but then the man reach into his jacket and produced a disk. “Worth a try, at least.” He stepped forward, and laid the disk on Silver Sable’s hand. “Over three dozen war criminals, former Nazis in hiding. All those still alive, though if you don’t hurry a few names will be among those dead. More every year.”
“It’s not soon enough.” The disk was slipped into a compartment on Silver Sable’s belt. “Then it would seem our business is concluded. I will leave this fugitive to your justice.”
At a gesture from their employer, the armed men started towards Captain America. Silver Sable stepped in the way of one, however, and looked up into the helmet’s faceplate. “Hmm.”
“What? Move aside.”
“Interesting lighting around here,” Silver Sable observed. “I thought I saw a tint of green beneath your helmet.”
Up went her fist, a powerful jab that shattered the glass and the face behind it. The man she’d struck staggered back, his gun falling to the floor and the remains of his helmet falling away. Now that the head was bare, it was plain that his head was not bare. In fact, it was completely covered by a green facemask, the sort worn by agents of HYDRA.
“As I thought.” As she spoke, Silver Sable was in motion, picking up Captain America’s shield as she swung around. The other men, agents of HYDRA all, had raised their weapons and fired. But the bullets simply bounced off the shield, protecting Silver Sable as she drew her own firearm. Swiftly but carefully she took aim and prepared to fire.
A shape appeared over the disguised HYDRA agents. It was Nomad, having leaped from his location atop an adjourning building. Into the packed group of armed terrorists he crashed, fists and feet flying. More glass shattered, and riot gear armor proved little protection against the young man’s enhanced strength. One man he picked up and hurled bodily at the others, sending them all to the ground.
Weapons scattered. One came to a stop at the feet of the last HYDRA man standing. The leader, who picked up the rifle and leveled it at Nomad and Silver Sable. “How fortunate. Two opponents removed, the names recovered, and still we take Captain America!” The rifle went off, aimed straight for Nomad.
Silver Sable had already started moving. With the shield in front of her, she dove in front of Nomad, protecting him from the blast. No sooner was she on the ground than Nomad had rushed forward, reaching the HYDRA leader just as he was about to get another shot off. Again, Nomad had his hand on a rifle barrel as it fired, pushing the gun away for a harmless shot and painfully burning himself in the process. With his other hand, Nomad cocked the HYDRA leader across the face. The man fell to the ground, out cold.
“You are certainly a glutton for punishment,” Silver Sable observed.
Nursing both his hands, Nomad turned and nodded. “Not everybody can be expertly trained. I have to compensate somehow.” He started towards Captain America, who still lay on the ground, fully conscious but bound by the restraints. “Are you all right, Cap?”
“Fine,” replied Captain America. “Silver Sable, if you would.”
“Of course,” Dropping the shield where she was, Silver Sable bent over and undid the restraints, freeing Captain America. “These men I will leave to you. My payment has been received.”
“Understood.” Once freed, Captain America jumped to his feet and snatched up the shield. Before either Silver Sable or Nomad could do anything, Captain America threw the shield high into the sky, towards the roof of a nearby building. It struck something, and everybody saw a man fall from the roof. “Cut off one limb and two more will take its place. HYDRA reinforcements have arrived.”
“As you were, gentlemen,” Silver Sable remarked as Captain America and Nomad rushed to meet the enemy. She moved in the opposite direction, towards the van with her gun drawn. “My part in this is done."
# # # # #
Danielle Webster had never met Drake Flagg before. As far as she was concerned, they were just two people who only knew of each other through mutual acquaintances, in this case their relatives. Danielle supposed that was why she stood outside the door to Drake’s apartment, why she agreed to meet with him. Her sister Cathy had been missing for over a day, as was the detective Cathy had hired.
The door opened and there was a man in a wheelchair. Drake Flagg. Cathy had told her sister about what had happened to him, how he’d been part of a neighborhood watch group and been brutally beaten by a gang. Even knowing it though, Danielle couldn’t help but stare at the wheelchair, and instantly felt guilty that she was doing so.
“Hi. Danielle,” Drake greeted with some hesitation, unsure if he should be so familiar with her. “Thank you for coming over.”
“You said you had an idea about what happened to Cathy?” She started to walk into the apartment, but just beyond the doorway Drake was blocking her way. She paused, suddenly uncomfortable.
When Drake quickly realized that she couldn’t get in, his hand went to the control stick on his wheelchair. “Sorry,” he blurted while backing up. That only made Danielle more uncomfortable, but she remained silent and followed him.
For the most part, Drake’s apartment was well kept, except for a damp towel on the floor. Danielle soon saw what the towel had been for, as Jack Flagg was standing near the closed off window, dressed in a uniform of some kind and still shivering. His red hair was all streaks of red, white and blue, and in his hands appeared to be a long handkerchief.
“I told Jack we didn’t have time to wait for you,” explained Drake. “But he insisted. Well, Jack, she’s here, and if the police aren’t here now they’re getting closer with every second. You could have just grabbed the gear and left but you insisted on telling us both something. So go on and spill it!”
“You should know I didn’t kill that girl,” said Jack. “I may have said I did, in my right mind and of my own accord, but the fact is I was protecting a man who wasn’t in his right mind. The reason behind it all is blackmail, pure and simple. And I was fine with it, because exposing the blackmail would have been almost as bad and I was confident that Cap or somebody else would have quietly handled this eventually.”
Jack Flagg turned from the covered window, faced his brother and Free Spirit’s sister as he continued to speak. “Unfortunately that hasn’t happened. Free Spirit got caught up in this mess, may already be dead for all I know. Maybe I made a mistake in not wanting to speak to anybody but the big guns, and now I need to go make things right. Or at least try.”
The handkerchief in Jack’s hands was raised, and Danielle saw two eyeholes, and that half the fabric was a blue field with stars and the other half was red and white stripes. “Somebody had to be told, at the least. Most anybody else would have me arrested, or at least hold me while they handle it themselves, and this is my mess to fix. In case I fail though, I should tell somebody and I’m telling you. Drake, you can pass the word to the right people, and they’ll listen to you. And Danielle, well, you should know what Cathy got caught up in because of me.”
The mask went over Jack Flagg’s face. Jack tied it at the back of his head even as he explained exactly what had been going on and the stupid mistake he’d made of going along with it. Danielle didn’t much recognize the names he gave, but Drake gasped.
“Jack, those are madmen, fiends who can get you killed or worse. We need to get some help. You can’t take them alone, and if Cathy’s not dead you may end up fighting her too.”
But Jack Flagg shook his head. “At the least I need to try and fix this mess on my own. If things go bad, maybe somebody can get me out of it all right. But if not, it’s the least I deserve.” Jack turned his back, but as he moved aside the curtain he spoke again, to his brother. “I love you, Drake.”
Tears had started to form in Drake Flag’s eyes. “I love you too, Jack. But please, don’t go through with-”
But the words fell on deaf ears. Jack Flagg had jumped out the window into the city, and perhaps to certain death.
# # # # #
“Tell me who’s behind this!”
An empty question, as the man asked was unable to answer. Captain America had his fingers shoved in the mouth of the man, the terrorist of HYDRA. They groped under the tongue, pressed against each tooth, searched futilely for the cause to a process that had already begun. Once he accepted that his fingers were in a dead man’s mouth, that he was asking questions of a dead man, Captain America abandoned the attempt.
Nomad placed his hand on Captain America’s shoulder. “They’re all dead, Captain. Every one by his own hand.”
The bodies lay all around them. Nearly a hundred men in green, all fanatical members of the terrorist organization HYDRA. Together, Captain America and Nomad had overpowered them all, dodged gunshots and overwhelmed the strength in numbers. For Nomad, the experience had been particularly taxing. His stitched wounds had torn open, allowing blood to seep down his body. Bleeding and tired, the once-sidekick to a fraud Captain America had helped to defeat nearly a hundred men, all without killing or even seriously injuring a single one.
The last of the dead HYDRA agents was dropped to the floor. Captain America stood tall, scanned over the bodies. “Okay, so nobody can talk. We’ll have to search the bodies. Start with him.” He pointed to the body of a man Nomad had disabled much earlier. “He was the most likely leader of this operation. There might be something on him that could help us.”
Nomad started the search, going through pockets and obviously uncomfortable at doing so. “This…how can so many people like this exist? What could they believe in so much that they would…my god.”
“God is the one thing they don’t believe in,” answered Captain America. “HYDRA’s sole purpose is the eradication of life, of tearing down everything that has meaning or purpose until there’s nothing left. I agree, Jack. Even suicide bombers…in taking others with them, they at least die for a purpose. This, dying for nothing…its beyond terrifying. Don’t touch the mask!” The warning came a little harsh, when Captain America saw Nomad reach for the leader’s mask. “It’s harder when you see their faces. Most of the time, too many are too young.”
“A lot of them were taken from the ranks of Nazis, in the beginning, right?” Captain America nodded, and Nomad couldn’t help but shiver. “God, if I’d never gotten my father into trouble, never met St- that teacher, I could have ended up like this. Even then, I came too close to being like this.”
“Everybody reaches those points,” Captain America told him. “There have been times when I’ve struggled. The worst thing is that these men had nobody to help them through those times. Nobody except those willing to exploit the difficulties in an individual’s life.”
Nomad was nodding. “Yeah, that’s partly why I moved here to Germany. America, hell, New York alone is full of people like us. But here in Europe…I can barely think of a handful.”
“That’ll change the longer you’re here. Europe has its heroes. We just don’t hear about them very much in America.”
“Maybe. Hey, this looks like something.” Nomad had pulled out a small ticket stub from the HYDRA leader’s pocket. “A lot of names and numbers. I don’t recognize any of them.”
He handed the ticket to Captain America, who took one look and said, “These are towns from Italy. There’s a toll-supported highway there. See,” Captain America pointed at the name on top of the ticket. “This was where he got on. That’s not very far from Rome.”
“That’s where we’re going next?”
But Captain America shook his head. “No. Flagsmasher is involved in this. He’s from Switzerland, and so is the entire Vatican Guard. It’s a long reach, but I can’t shake the feeling that HYDRA’s next strike will be at Vatican City. That is where we’re going next.”
NEXT ISSUE: A short break from the story-arc, as Captain America takes time in Germany to pay respects to a man that…beat him!? A special story set in the days of World War II.