Issue #1 by D. Golightly
January 2018
January 2018
"CHAPTER ONE - ZEMO"
Waves slapped against the jagged rocks that surrounded his private island, smashing new crevices into existence. It was the perfect metaphor for how he had lived his life. The island was small compared to some, but more than adequate for his needs these days. Ever since his failed bid for the presidency of the United States of America*, Baron Helmut Zemo lived a relatively quiet life.
* [Check out M2K’s Thunderbolts series!]
He stood with his arms clasped behind his back, no longer contemplating his failure. It was behind him and the future was in front of him. Here he was secure; the world thought him dead, which gave him all the time he needed to recoup his losses, rebuild, and plan. The island was an exceptional headquarters, providing solitude, and with modern communications technology he would be able to establish control over his criminal network soon enough.
Inside the compound behind him, Fixer was hard at work restoring him to functionality. Once more human, and no longer brainwashed, his technical skills would go to the highest bidder. Zemo had, of course, purchased Fixer’s loyalty like he had so many times before. His other Masters were either dead, reformed, or captured. Before long he would reclaim them, but for now Fixer would serve as a decent starting point.
He stood on the pinnacle of the cliff, the highest point of his island, where he could watch his obedient servant patrol the perimeter of the island. Enslaving the alien humanoid known as Quantum had been no easy task, but a vital one. While Quantum held immeasurable power, the alien had also served as Zemo’s contingency plan.
Zemo was smart enough to know that even he could fail. His plan for control of the United States had been a master stroke of genius, but factoring in the Avengers, the Fantastic Four, those accursed mutant’s from Xavier, and any number of the so-called heroes made even his far-reaching goals difficult to achieve. Above all else, Zemo was a survivor. Therefore, while he had total confidence in his plans, he knew that it would be foolishness to assume his success.
Quantum’s abilities had made it possible so that at the exact moment of Zemo’s “death” a cloned and inert copy could be switched in his place. Quantum had whisked Zemo off to this very island to lick his wounds, while the world was left with a perfect corpse in his likeness to mourn.
The alien would protect him, and he would grow strong again. Fixer would establish him, and his reach would spread across the world once more. On a long enough timeline, Zemo would prevail.
The past weeks had already been fruitful. Fixer had collected his lieutenants back under his command, reasserting his control over a global network that, while small, would be ready to move upon his command. They weren’t soldiers, but rather intelligence gatherers. The brute force of his empire would come later.
His data-crunchers had realized that several distractions were coming back into power, which meant that the heroes would remain occupied while he rebuilt. Doom, who wasted his talents on his rivalry with the Richards family, was mounting his assault on them again, locked in their continuous struggle. Advanced Idea Mechanics had set their sights on Tony Stark and would likely stay out of his way. Even Professor Power, who Zemo was surprised to learn was still alive, had remerged and seemed to be plotting against the mutant community.*
* [Check out M2K’s Fantastic Four, Iron Man, and X-Factor for more on all of those stories!]
Heroes and villains alike were too busy fighting amongst themselves to even notice his return. And why should they? Perhaps even Zemo could learn from his mistakes. Perhaps this time he would take an even more subtle approach, masking his presence completely and driving his next project from afar.
Quantum soared overhead, continuing his ever-present monitoring of the island. Zemo took in a deep breath of the salty sea air, and turned back toward his compound. Fixer should have a report ready for him by now, and he could contemplate his next steps from the comfort of his own personal throne.
KRA-KOOM!
A shockwave nearly bowled him over as a plume of fire erupted from the top of his main building. Black smoke instantly began billowing out, covering the sky in thick tar. He ground his teeth, trying to imagine how they could have been infiltrated.
They were miles from any other dry land, and even further away from anything even remotely resembling civilization. It would have been impossible for anyone to approach from sea or air; Quantum’s constant surveillance would have seen to that, and coupled with Fixer’s sophisticated sensors he doubted that even a cloaked individual could surprise them. He supposed that an undersea assault from beneath the island was possible, which indicated Attuma, Namor, or possibly even the Mole Man.
But his network indicated other events were taking up their time, and so his fast-paced mind was back to square one again. He was baffled, but not without his faculties. He was Zemo. He would kill whoever dared to attack him.
Straightening himself, he withdrew the adamantium dagger he always kept on his belt, preparing himself to exact vengeance. He stopped after only a few steps, however, as the prone form of Quantum came rocketing out of the compound.
His inert body drifted through the air until gravity took its toll again, yanking him back down. He splashed into the water and the sea took him. As soon as the last drops of the sea spray flopped back down, there was no evidence of Quantum even existing. He had been swallowed up, and with Fixer still in the decimated compound Zemo was on his own.
He turned back to see his most hated enemy floating toward him casually. His costume, as ridiculous as it ever was, had been altered. The red, white, and blue had been replaced by just red and black, and his signature shield had been painted to match. In his other hand was a device that looked familiar to Zemo, and was brimming with power. It must have been the source of his enemy’s ability to counter Quantum so easily, and fly through the air as he did now.
“Rogers,” Zemo growled and he brandished his knife. “This is unlike you.”
The automated defenses that Fixer had installed throughout the island roared to life. With the intruder now revealed, sensors locked onto him and several nearby turrets arose from their small silos in the ground. Twin sets of 50mm cannons rose up on opposing sides of the intruder, not even hesitating for a moment as they opened fire. The targeting computers locked in and bullets strong enough to punch through concrete walls fired.
The hovering man laughed, deflecting most of the mullets with his shield, and with a flash of power from the scepter he held, both the turrets were destroyed and Zemo suddenly found himself disarmed. The knife flipped end over end, stabbing into the soft soil a dozen feet away. The blade was now red hot, and the grass it touched became scorched.
“Astounding,” Rogers said. “You look exactly like him!”
“What are you blathering about, Rogers? From your sudden rise to power,” Zemo said, motioning to the scepter, “I can assume that you’ve somehow been corrupted. Where are your Avengers, or better yet, your precious morals? The Rogers I knew would never have used such devices.”
“And just as perceptive as him as well,” Rogers muttered. He dropped to the ground and took a few steps toward Zemo. A South Pacific breeze washed over them, adding a subtle gentleness to their confrontation. “Your intuition is correct, Zemo. I am not the Steve Rogers that you have apparently come to hate just as much as my Zemo despises me.”
Zemo’s eyes narrowed. “A doppleganger?” he asked.
“Of sorts, although I would consider the Rogers of this world my doppleganger instead of vice versa. It’s all a matter of perspective.”
“You’re from another world. An alternate dimension.”
“Quite right,” Rogers said. He raised his scepter to show it to Zemo. “And through this Eye, I have watched the history of your world. I have to say your dimension is a fascinating one. Not so much a parallel world as it is an opposite one. On my world, Helmut Zero leads a group of heroes that continuously thwart my plans to impose my brand of fascism.”
“You? A conqueror?” Zemo blurted out a laugh from the bowels of his gut. “Captain America is a petty soldier. A talented one, but a bruiser nonetheless. He has no gift for global strategy and could never see the forest for the trees.”
“But I am not the same Steve Rogers. Where I come from, people tremble at the sight of the Great American.* I have the fortitude, the strength of will, to make your aspirations finally come true, Zemo! I reviewed your bid for Presidency and was impressed at how close you came to ruling it all. What if I told you that I have already paved the path for true domination for you?”
* [Check out the Mirror Mirror: The Great American one-shot!]
Zemo considered his guest for a moment. The smoke from his burning compound rose behind this “Great American” slowly incinerating his island. “Why? Why would you bring me such an offer? If you have the power that you claim, why would you need me?”
“Because, like you, I have learned from my mistakes. At every turn, Zemo and his Masters have stopped my plans. If a lion finds something between it and its prey, does it not simply circumvent the obstacle? By coming to a world where the face of my greatest enemy is just as publicly hated, should my Zemo try to stop me again he will have an entire world opposed to him! Who would trust someone with the face of Baron Helmut Zemo here?”
“Clever,” Zemo said. “I, too, have felt the pangs of such a problem. The world reveres Steve Rogers. He has been the hero of several generations. I’ve often wondered how I could remove him, or perhaps put the world against his very image.”
A pillar of water sprouted upward as Quantum launched himself up over the island, finally able to pull himself back together. The alien seethed, spotted the Great American, and hurtled toward him. His Dakkamite prowess had been called forward and he was questing for the blood of this intruder.
But Zemo raised a hand to stop his champion. Quantum, an obedient subject of his master, immediately stopped in midair without question. Zemo glared back at the Great American.
“I take it that you are willing to consider my offer of a partnership?” the Great American asked with a sneer.
“Let us say that you intrigue me,” Zemo replied. “Explain your plot to me. If I like what I hear, I may let you live.”
“HA! You are very much his opposite. I chose well. But, perhaps I should show you my plan, yes? Tigra!”
Zemo was startled to see yet another intruder slink forward from the island’s underbrush. He recognized her instantly: the feline Avenger known as Tigra, lithe and deadly, covered in fur, and moving with an animalistic grace. She crawled out from beneath the tall grass, no longer hidden from his senses. Had she desired it, she could have easily pounced on him before he realized what was happening.
The only thing different about her from his past encounters was the look in her eyes. This Tigra looked like she had allowed her primal instincts to rule her more than once.
She smiled at him with a soft purr and a wink, then, astoundingly, she reached back into the brush and pulled on a thick cable that was linked to a collar around another person. Her captive resembled her in every way, aside from the fact that she had a muzzle strapped around her jaw and her hands were tied behind her back. The first Tigra yanked hard on the cable, and the second Tigra fell to her knees, drawn down by the tight collar around her throat.
“Care to pet the kitty?” the first Tigra asked. “Don’t worry, sugar. She won’t bite…but I will if you want me to.”
The captured Tigra thrashed wildly, but her restraints kept her in check, allowing Zemo to approach without cause for harm. “Remarkable,” Zemo muttered. “You’re brought others from your world. Do you intend to switch counterparts? I must say, that has been attempted before, and to no great effect.”
“Not exactly, Zemo,” the Great American replied. “You see, I have already positioned key figures throughout the world, and they are ready to strike. I brought my associates from my world to yours months ago. Tigra here was merely a suitable example for your benefit. Phase One of my four-part plan has already occurred, and your world is none the wiser!”
Zemo leaned forward, bringing his masked face closer to the captured Tigra. She growled and snapped her sharp teeth at him, but they were hidden behind her muzzle. He smirked, content that one of his enemies had been brought to her knees, even if it was by some means other than his own.
“How many have you brought?” Zemo asked.
“Enough,” the Great American replied. “I have positioned people loyal to me throughout the White House, Senate, and House of Representatives. Tigra is not the only Avenger to be compromised. In fact, all threats to my plan have been compromised, and all I need do is give the word, and the world will come crashing to its knees.”
Zemo straightened, clasped his arms behind his back, and turned back to face the pseudo-Rogers. “Yes, this plan of yours. Explain it to me. The Avengers or the Fantastic Four will realize that they are among enemies soon enough. What then?”
“By the time they realize what is happening,” the Great American said as he raised his scepter, “it will be too late. Phase Three will be in motion. Yes, Zemo, I am already halfway complete! Allow me to show you my grand design for your world.”
He motioned to his Tigra, who smiled to reveal sharp teeth that could flay the skin from a man, and then yanked on the other Tigra’s collar to pull her up on her knees. The Great American stepped closer and his scepter began brimming with power again.
“My scheme is based on several honed military tactics for subterfuge,” the Great American said. “A basic premise followed by coordinated steps. A C.O.D.E. if you will, which I have indoctrinated into those I brought with me from my world. They will obey my C.O.D.E. or I will send them back, if I don’t kill them first.”
He motioned to the Tigras. “Phase One: Contain. The ‘doppleganger’ as you call us will infiltrate the subject’s life and gain control. Only when my people have complete lordship over their targets with a zero risk of being discovered are they to move onto the next step. Tigra secluded her target during a routine patrol, restrained her, and delivered her to my men for incarceration.
“Phase Two: Override. Upon confirmation of containment, the doppleganger takes steps to actually replace the target. Simply hiding them in a broom closet is not acceptable. They must display a complete knowledge of the target’s background so that they pose no risk to my plan being discovered. They effectively override the target’s life and install themselves. This is where my network is currently.”
“Not even that smug Clint Barton could tell he wasn’t sticking it to the real deal,” Tigra stated.
“Phase Three: Defeat. Upon my signal, my loyal forces will move against those that haven’t been replaced. With the element of surprise, and the sheer shock of how overwhelming my numbers are, victory will be swift.”
“As I said, brute strength will not be enough,” Zemo countered. “Versions of this plan have failed before.”
“Ah, but you assume too much!” the Great American said. “Yes, I am counting on a certain degree of strength to overcome many of the heroes. But my people have already put into effect legislation, protocols, and accords that will hinder any organized reaction. The heroes are already becoming isolated thanks to my people in the government. Their initial retaliation will be damaging, but controllable. Defeat will come in many forms; not just physical.”
“Intriguing,” Zemo responded.
“After the heroes and governments are effectively neutered, Phase Four will be activated, wherein through my established totalitarian state I will enforce my will upon your world. Eighteen months from now I will have crushed the spirit of any resistance that might oppose me and rule supreme.”
“And where do I fit into your so-called grand design?” Zemo inquired.
“As an act of appreciation for simply bearing the face of my most hated enemy, if you work alongside me, I will grant you a hemisphere of your choice.”
“Zemo bows to no man!”
Tigra tsked. “You aren’t bowing or bending the knee or anything else like that, handsome. This would be a straight partnership.” She slipped in closer to his and whispered in his ear. “And this partnership comes with certain perks.”
“A final question,” Zemo stated, wavering the woman away. “Your phases…Contain, Override, and Defeat. They mark the first three. What is the fourth?”
The Great American pointed his scepter at the bound Tigra and said, “Enslave.”
A red beam of energy sprouted from the tip of the scepter, engulfing the bound Tigra completely. She screamed from beneath her muzzle, thrashing about wildly in a final attempt to free herself. Within moments, however, the fighting stopped. Her determination seemed to be drained away. Her arms and neck went slack and the spirit had been drained from her eyes.
“I’ve emptied her of all faculties except for those basic enough to sustain her,” the Great American said. “Breathing, sleeping, and eating. The primal functions of an animal. She now has more in common with the rock beside her than you or me.”
“Tell me,” Zemo said as he paced around the mind-wiped Tigra. “If you have such power, why not use it initially? Why the charade of the first three phases?”
“Because this is a subtle incursion,” the Great American replied. “That is where others have failed! Showing your power too quickly will only invite defeat. By the time your world’s heroes even realize they have been comprised, it will be too late. Retaining our target’s faculties allows us to extract more information from them, using them as a prime source for as long as possible. Only when the subterfuge is complete do I enslave them.”
Zemo reached behind Tigra’s head, unclasping the muzzle and letting it fall to his feet. He leaned down, placing his face close to hers, witnessing a strand of saliva drip from her lips. She seemed completely unaware of his presence.
“I’ll agree to assist you,” Zemo said, “on one condition.”
“I expected no less,” the Great American replied.
Zemo maintained his poker face, but internally he was growing excited. His Rogers or not, he felt that he could gain this fool’s trust and when the time was right, turn his own C.O.D.E. against him. He would play along for now, play the patsy, the partner. But in the end he would come out on top.
Zemo would prevail.
“Rogers,” Zemo said. “The one of this world…is mine.”
TO BE CONTINUED!
* [Check out M2K’s Thunderbolts series!]
He stood with his arms clasped behind his back, no longer contemplating his failure. It was behind him and the future was in front of him. Here he was secure; the world thought him dead, which gave him all the time he needed to recoup his losses, rebuild, and plan. The island was an exceptional headquarters, providing solitude, and with modern communications technology he would be able to establish control over his criminal network soon enough.
Inside the compound behind him, Fixer was hard at work restoring him to functionality. Once more human, and no longer brainwashed, his technical skills would go to the highest bidder. Zemo had, of course, purchased Fixer’s loyalty like he had so many times before. His other Masters were either dead, reformed, or captured. Before long he would reclaim them, but for now Fixer would serve as a decent starting point.
He stood on the pinnacle of the cliff, the highest point of his island, where he could watch his obedient servant patrol the perimeter of the island. Enslaving the alien humanoid known as Quantum had been no easy task, but a vital one. While Quantum held immeasurable power, the alien had also served as Zemo’s contingency plan.
Zemo was smart enough to know that even he could fail. His plan for control of the United States had been a master stroke of genius, but factoring in the Avengers, the Fantastic Four, those accursed mutant’s from Xavier, and any number of the so-called heroes made even his far-reaching goals difficult to achieve. Above all else, Zemo was a survivor. Therefore, while he had total confidence in his plans, he knew that it would be foolishness to assume his success.
Quantum’s abilities had made it possible so that at the exact moment of Zemo’s “death” a cloned and inert copy could be switched in his place. Quantum had whisked Zemo off to this very island to lick his wounds, while the world was left with a perfect corpse in his likeness to mourn.
The alien would protect him, and he would grow strong again. Fixer would establish him, and his reach would spread across the world once more. On a long enough timeline, Zemo would prevail.
The past weeks had already been fruitful. Fixer had collected his lieutenants back under his command, reasserting his control over a global network that, while small, would be ready to move upon his command. They weren’t soldiers, but rather intelligence gatherers. The brute force of his empire would come later.
His data-crunchers had realized that several distractions were coming back into power, which meant that the heroes would remain occupied while he rebuilt. Doom, who wasted his talents on his rivalry with the Richards family, was mounting his assault on them again, locked in their continuous struggle. Advanced Idea Mechanics had set their sights on Tony Stark and would likely stay out of his way. Even Professor Power, who Zemo was surprised to learn was still alive, had remerged and seemed to be plotting against the mutant community.*
* [Check out M2K’s Fantastic Four, Iron Man, and X-Factor for more on all of those stories!]
Heroes and villains alike were too busy fighting amongst themselves to even notice his return. And why should they? Perhaps even Zemo could learn from his mistakes. Perhaps this time he would take an even more subtle approach, masking his presence completely and driving his next project from afar.
Quantum soared overhead, continuing his ever-present monitoring of the island. Zemo took in a deep breath of the salty sea air, and turned back toward his compound. Fixer should have a report ready for him by now, and he could contemplate his next steps from the comfort of his own personal throne.
KRA-KOOM!
A shockwave nearly bowled him over as a plume of fire erupted from the top of his main building. Black smoke instantly began billowing out, covering the sky in thick tar. He ground his teeth, trying to imagine how they could have been infiltrated.
They were miles from any other dry land, and even further away from anything even remotely resembling civilization. It would have been impossible for anyone to approach from sea or air; Quantum’s constant surveillance would have seen to that, and coupled with Fixer’s sophisticated sensors he doubted that even a cloaked individual could surprise them. He supposed that an undersea assault from beneath the island was possible, which indicated Attuma, Namor, or possibly even the Mole Man.
But his network indicated other events were taking up their time, and so his fast-paced mind was back to square one again. He was baffled, but not without his faculties. He was Zemo. He would kill whoever dared to attack him.
Straightening himself, he withdrew the adamantium dagger he always kept on his belt, preparing himself to exact vengeance. He stopped after only a few steps, however, as the prone form of Quantum came rocketing out of the compound.
His inert body drifted through the air until gravity took its toll again, yanking him back down. He splashed into the water and the sea took him. As soon as the last drops of the sea spray flopped back down, there was no evidence of Quantum even existing. He had been swallowed up, and with Fixer still in the decimated compound Zemo was on his own.
He turned back to see his most hated enemy floating toward him casually. His costume, as ridiculous as it ever was, had been altered. The red, white, and blue had been replaced by just red and black, and his signature shield had been painted to match. In his other hand was a device that looked familiar to Zemo, and was brimming with power. It must have been the source of his enemy’s ability to counter Quantum so easily, and fly through the air as he did now.
“Rogers,” Zemo growled and he brandished his knife. “This is unlike you.”
The automated defenses that Fixer had installed throughout the island roared to life. With the intruder now revealed, sensors locked onto him and several nearby turrets arose from their small silos in the ground. Twin sets of 50mm cannons rose up on opposing sides of the intruder, not even hesitating for a moment as they opened fire. The targeting computers locked in and bullets strong enough to punch through concrete walls fired.
The hovering man laughed, deflecting most of the mullets with his shield, and with a flash of power from the scepter he held, both the turrets were destroyed and Zemo suddenly found himself disarmed. The knife flipped end over end, stabbing into the soft soil a dozen feet away. The blade was now red hot, and the grass it touched became scorched.
“Astounding,” Rogers said. “You look exactly like him!”
“What are you blathering about, Rogers? From your sudden rise to power,” Zemo said, motioning to the scepter, “I can assume that you’ve somehow been corrupted. Where are your Avengers, or better yet, your precious morals? The Rogers I knew would never have used such devices.”
“And just as perceptive as him as well,” Rogers muttered. He dropped to the ground and took a few steps toward Zemo. A South Pacific breeze washed over them, adding a subtle gentleness to their confrontation. “Your intuition is correct, Zemo. I am not the Steve Rogers that you have apparently come to hate just as much as my Zemo despises me.”
Zemo’s eyes narrowed. “A doppleganger?” he asked.
“Of sorts, although I would consider the Rogers of this world my doppleganger instead of vice versa. It’s all a matter of perspective.”
“You’re from another world. An alternate dimension.”
“Quite right,” Rogers said. He raised his scepter to show it to Zemo. “And through this Eye, I have watched the history of your world. I have to say your dimension is a fascinating one. Not so much a parallel world as it is an opposite one. On my world, Helmut Zero leads a group of heroes that continuously thwart my plans to impose my brand of fascism.”
“You? A conqueror?” Zemo blurted out a laugh from the bowels of his gut. “Captain America is a petty soldier. A talented one, but a bruiser nonetheless. He has no gift for global strategy and could never see the forest for the trees.”
“But I am not the same Steve Rogers. Where I come from, people tremble at the sight of the Great American.* I have the fortitude, the strength of will, to make your aspirations finally come true, Zemo! I reviewed your bid for Presidency and was impressed at how close you came to ruling it all. What if I told you that I have already paved the path for true domination for you?”
* [Check out the Mirror Mirror: The Great American one-shot!]
Zemo considered his guest for a moment. The smoke from his burning compound rose behind this “Great American” slowly incinerating his island. “Why? Why would you bring me such an offer? If you have the power that you claim, why would you need me?”
“Because, like you, I have learned from my mistakes. At every turn, Zemo and his Masters have stopped my plans. If a lion finds something between it and its prey, does it not simply circumvent the obstacle? By coming to a world where the face of my greatest enemy is just as publicly hated, should my Zemo try to stop me again he will have an entire world opposed to him! Who would trust someone with the face of Baron Helmut Zemo here?”
“Clever,” Zemo said. “I, too, have felt the pangs of such a problem. The world reveres Steve Rogers. He has been the hero of several generations. I’ve often wondered how I could remove him, or perhaps put the world against his very image.”
A pillar of water sprouted upward as Quantum launched himself up over the island, finally able to pull himself back together. The alien seethed, spotted the Great American, and hurtled toward him. His Dakkamite prowess had been called forward and he was questing for the blood of this intruder.
But Zemo raised a hand to stop his champion. Quantum, an obedient subject of his master, immediately stopped in midair without question. Zemo glared back at the Great American.
“I take it that you are willing to consider my offer of a partnership?” the Great American asked with a sneer.
“Let us say that you intrigue me,” Zemo replied. “Explain your plot to me. If I like what I hear, I may let you live.”
“HA! You are very much his opposite. I chose well. But, perhaps I should show you my plan, yes? Tigra!”
Zemo was startled to see yet another intruder slink forward from the island’s underbrush. He recognized her instantly: the feline Avenger known as Tigra, lithe and deadly, covered in fur, and moving with an animalistic grace. She crawled out from beneath the tall grass, no longer hidden from his senses. Had she desired it, she could have easily pounced on him before he realized what was happening.
The only thing different about her from his past encounters was the look in her eyes. This Tigra looked like she had allowed her primal instincts to rule her more than once.
She smiled at him with a soft purr and a wink, then, astoundingly, she reached back into the brush and pulled on a thick cable that was linked to a collar around another person. Her captive resembled her in every way, aside from the fact that she had a muzzle strapped around her jaw and her hands were tied behind her back. The first Tigra yanked hard on the cable, and the second Tigra fell to her knees, drawn down by the tight collar around her throat.
“Care to pet the kitty?” the first Tigra asked. “Don’t worry, sugar. She won’t bite…but I will if you want me to.”
The captured Tigra thrashed wildly, but her restraints kept her in check, allowing Zemo to approach without cause for harm. “Remarkable,” Zemo muttered. “You’re brought others from your world. Do you intend to switch counterparts? I must say, that has been attempted before, and to no great effect.”
“Not exactly, Zemo,” the Great American replied. “You see, I have already positioned key figures throughout the world, and they are ready to strike. I brought my associates from my world to yours months ago. Tigra here was merely a suitable example for your benefit. Phase One of my four-part plan has already occurred, and your world is none the wiser!”
Zemo leaned forward, bringing his masked face closer to the captured Tigra. She growled and snapped her sharp teeth at him, but they were hidden behind her muzzle. He smirked, content that one of his enemies had been brought to her knees, even if it was by some means other than his own.
“How many have you brought?” Zemo asked.
“Enough,” the Great American replied. “I have positioned people loyal to me throughout the White House, Senate, and House of Representatives. Tigra is not the only Avenger to be compromised. In fact, all threats to my plan have been compromised, and all I need do is give the word, and the world will come crashing to its knees.”
Zemo straightened, clasped his arms behind his back, and turned back to face the pseudo-Rogers. “Yes, this plan of yours. Explain it to me. The Avengers or the Fantastic Four will realize that they are among enemies soon enough. What then?”
“By the time they realize what is happening,” the Great American said as he raised his scepter, “it will be too late. Phase Three will be in motion. Yes, Zemo, I am already halfway complete! Allow me to show you my grand design for your world.”
He motioned to his Tigra, who smiled to reveal sharp teeth that could flay the skin from a man, and then yanked on the other Tigra’s collar to pull her up on her knees. The Great American stepped closer and his scepter began brimming with power again.
“My scheme is based on several honed military tactics for subterfuge,” the Great American said. “A basic premise followed by coordinated steps. A C.O.D.E. if you will, which I have indoctrinated into those I brought with me from my world. They will obey my C.O.D.E. or I will send them back, if I don’t kill them first.”
He motioned to the Tigras. “Phase One: Contain. The ‘doppleganger’ as you call us will infiltrate the subject’s life and gain control. Only when my people have complete lordship over their targets with a zero risk of being discovered are they to move onto the next step. Tigra secluded her target during a routine patrol, restrained her, and delivered her to my men for incarceration.
“Phase Two: Override. Upon confirmation of containment, the doppleganger takes steps to actually replace the target. Simply hiding them in a broom closet is not acceptable. They must display a complete knowledge of the target’s background so that they pose no risk to my plan being discovered. They effectively override the target’s life and install themselves. This is where my network is currently.”
“Not even that smug Clint Barton could tell he wasn’t sticking it to the real deal,” Tigra stated.
“Phase Three: Defeat. Upon my signal, my loyal forces will move against those that haven’t been replaced. With the element of surprise, and the sheer shock of how overwhelming my numbers are, victory will be swift.”
“As I said, brute strength will not be enough,” Zemo countered. “Versions of this plan have failed before.”
“Ah, but you assume too much!” the Great American said. “Yes, I am counting on a certain degree of strength to overcome many of the heroes. But my people have already put into effect legislation, protocols, and accords that will hinder any organized reaction. The heroes are already becoming isolated thanks to my people in the government. Their initial retaliation will be damaging, but controllable. Defeat will come in many forms; not just physical.”
“Intriguing,” Zemo responded.
“After the heroes and governments are effectively neutered, Phase Four will be activated, wherein through my established totalitarian state I will enforce my will upon your world. Eighteen months from now I will have crushed the spirit of any resistance that might oppose me and rule supreme.”
“And where do I fit into your so-called grand design?” Zemo inquired.
“As an act of appreciation for simply bearing the face of my most hated enemy, if you work alongside me, I will grant you a hemisphere of your choice.”
“Zemo bows to no man!”
Tigra tsked. “You aren’t bowing or bending the knee or anything else like that, handsome. This would be a straight partnership.” She slipped in closer to his and whispered in his ear. “And this partnership comes with certain perks.”
“A final question,” Zemo stated, wavering the woman away. “Your phases…Contain, Override, and Defeat. They mark the first three. What is the fourth?”
The Great American pointed his scepter at the bound Tigra and said, “Enslave.”
A red beam of energy sprouted from the tip of the scepter, engulfing the bound Tigra completely. She screamed from beneath her muzzle, thrashing about wildly in a final attempt to free herself. Within moments, however, the fighting stopped. Her determination seemed to be drained away. Her arms and neck went slack and the spirit had been drained from her eyes.
“I’ve emptied her of all faculties except for those basic enough to sustain her,” the Great American said. “Breathing, sleeping, and eating. The primal functions of an animal. She now has more in common with the rock beside her than you or me.”
“Tell me,” Zemo said as he paced around the mind-wiped Tigra. “If you have such power, why not use it initially? Why the charade of the first three phases?”
“Because this is a subtle incursion,” the Great American replied. “That is where others have failed! Showing your power too quickly will only invite defeat. By the time your world’s heroes even realize they have been comprised, it will be too late. Retaining our target’s faculties allows us to extract more information from them, using them as a prime source for as long as possible. Only when the subterfuge is complete do I enslave them.”
Zemo reached behind Tigra’s head, unclasping the muzzle and letting it fall to his feet. He leaned down, placing his face close to hers, witnessing a strand of saliva drip from her lips. She seemed completely unaware of his presence.
“I’ll agree to assist you,” Zemo said, “on one condition.”
“I expected no less,” the Great American replied.
Zemo maintained his poker face, but internally he was growing excited. His Rogers or not, he felt that he could gain this fool’s trust and when the time was right, turn his own C.O.D.E. against him. He would play along for now, play the patsy, the partner. But in the end he would come out on top.
Zemo would prevail.
“Rogers,” Zemo said. “The one of this world…is mine.”
TO BE CONTINUED!