Issue #6 by D. Golightly
Nov 2023 The Great American
Baron Zemo
The Goblin
Spider-Man
Captain America
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"CHAPTER SIX - THE GREAT AMERICAN"
Something was wrong.
Sizzling energy rippled out of the Evil Eye, a scepter forged from fragments collected in another realm, coating a hulking man in a golden uniform and tattered blue cape. He screamed as the temporal energy washed over him, digging past his skin and into his very essence, threatening to dislodge him from the fabric of reality. Except that it wasn’t working. Yes, the anticipated pain was there, just like the Great American expected, but nothing else. A clawed hand draped itself over the American’s shoulder, caressing his triceps by running a talon over the contours. He slapped it away but kept his focus on the captive, who seemingly seemed rooted firmly in this reality even though he was supposed to be splitting apart. “Leave him,” Tigra purred into the American’s ear. “There are much more interesting things you could be doing.” Another feline figure strutted around to his other side, running her finger along his other arm and mirroring the other Tigra. A perfect copy, but depending on perspective in actuality a variant from another world, they were now impossible to tell apart. Her loyalties had been twisted by the Evil Eye, stolen away by the American when they had arrived on Zemo’s island,* and now she was in sync with her counterpart. * [As seen in C.O.D.E. Confidential #1] “Wouldn’t you rather play with us,” the second Tigra purred, “instead of him?” “Away from me, cats,” the American replied curtly. He redoubled his mental efforts, causing the red beam pulsating from the Eye to widen, but to no avail. The target screamed, but that was all. He brushed the Tigras away and ground his teeth, stepping away from all of them to collect his thoughts. In the dark corner of the room he spied the fringes of the Void’s dark coat, but nothing else. He sensed the eagerness there in the shadows, waiting for his turn to tear into the captive. Like Tigra, the Void and the captive, called the Sentry in this reality, were two sides of the same coin, but with vastly different backgrounds and abilities. “You promised me, Rogers,” the Void’s grave voice said from the darkness. “You said that the Sentry would be mine when you were done with him.” The American heard the hatred seething within the Void’s syllables. “Patience,” the American said. “I still have need of him.” Tendrils of shadow lanced out around the American without connecting. They could have easily stabbed into the American’s flesh, despite his blackened chainmail. Instead, they danced close to him and to the great fascist’s credit he didn’t so much as flinch. He knew that he had commanded the respect of the Void without having to alter his mind using the power of the Eye. “You’ve been at this for hours!” the Void screamed, his tendrils lashing wildly. “When? When will I be allowed to kill him? Just seeing him makes me want to vomit!” “Patience,” was all the American said as he left the lab and the smell of burning flesh behind him. The Void was a necessary ally. Without him, the American would never have been able to weaken and subdue the Sentry.* He recognized the eagerness in his dark compatriot, even respected it, but it was growing cumbersome. * [That beatdown happened in C.O.D.E. Confidential #2] The door slid shut behind him and he was in another section of Reed Richards’ massive workspace. The Baxter Building was an incredible repository of next-level science, with each new room he entered housing even more amazing equipment and data than the last. This facility was likely the only place on Earth that had a force field powerful enough to contain the Sentry and one of the primary reasons they had established their base of operations here. Contain. He couldn’t help but smile at the word, which was the first part of his C.O.D.E. for invading this dimension. His edict for efficiently circumventing the common mistakes for such an invasion had been successful to date. Containment of select government officials and heroes had been in effect for two years. The Override portion had, for the most part, also gone according to plan with an acceptable margin of error, leading to the current third phase: Defeat. From a communications console in the center of the room, his compatriot looked up as he walked over. “The mansion has fallen,” Baron Zemo said. “Our people entrenched in the Commission for Superhuman Activities had a surprising number of Sentinels stored away. For a rainy day perhaps? Combined with the mutants you brought, the X-Men were no real match.” The inevitable unveiling of his supplanted network had arrived, again on schedule. Since Xavier’s pathetic school housed some of the most powerful mutants in the world, it would fall first. He had planned for everything, even his own counterpart’s interference. He was, however, surprised to see Doctor Doom slicing through several of his people on the holographic display. “Yes,” Zemo said as he turned back to the console. “Victor has always been a bit of a…volatile factor to account for. This is from an hour ago. I was reviewing their exit strategy to see if I could ascertain where they fled.” “Your Masters are re-routing the Avengers on the West Coast?” the American asked. Like the Void, this world’s Zemo was another tolerable, and even reputable, component to his plans. The global coordination of the third phase was largely thanks to his efforts. It also pleased the Great American to no end that his primary ally in this dimension wore the face of his most hated enemy. “Quantum and Fixer intercepted their Quinjet in route,” Zemo said. “They won’t be interfering. Similarly, the XSE has preemptively disbanded the Mutant Response Team and our moles in Department H have handicapped Alpha Flight’s involvement through bureaucratic red tape.” The first three phases of his master plan had been successful, leading to the fourth and final phase: Enslave. Except that the Eye was failing him. It was a crucial element. The subterfuge of the first three phases brought them close to total domination, but the heroes had a way of always prevailing when circumstances seemed at their worst. With the Eye, he would avoid their own cavalier and heroic luck by converting them to his doctrine. He had tested the Eye’s mind-altering abilities on this world’s Tigra, forcing her fealty. In a perfect world, the Great American would have begun his plan to conquer this reality with the Eye’s power, but its ancient magics only seemed to take effect one the spirit of the person was broken. Hence, the first three phases of his master plan. But for whatever reason the Sentry was immune to the Eye, and he was the one person in this dimension that the American needed to have converted. “Awaken Richards,” the American said. Even though the mask adhered to Zemo’s face hid his expression, the American knew that the terrorist was sneering at him. “I take that to mean you’ve failed,” Zemo finally said as his fingers danced over the console, shifting the hologram from the decimated mansion to the wilds of Wakanda to review the progress of the invasion. “The Sentry’s connection to this reality is tenuous as best,” the American said. “He should be acting as a lens, focusing the Eye’s power to wedge beneath the dimensional cracks and spread to touch every native mind.” “So you’ve said,” Zemo retorted. Content with the dissent they had sown in Wakanda, he switched the viewer to Atlantis just as the Namor from another world, who had successfully taken control of the kingdom, ordered the disarmament of the nation’s defenses. The American smashed his fist onto the console, cracking the casing. “My advisor assured me that the Sentry was the key to complete dimensional control.” Zemo paused. “Advisor. You mean the Richards of your world? Did it not occur to you that he fed you inaccurate information so that you would fail?” “He was my first test subject for what the Eye could do,” the American said. “Now, awaken this Richards. If there is anyone alive who could solve this riddle, it’s him.” Zemo looked through the holographic display to the other side of the room where the entire Fantastic Four hovered in suspended animation. It had been no small feat to work one of their people into the Baxter Building and trick the World’s First Family into the containment fields that held them at bay. Several plans had been plotted, but in the end the most simple one had ultimately worked best; they had never suspected Willie Lumpkin would deceive them, even if it wasn’t really their friendly neighborhood mailman. “The moment Reed Richards has control of his faculties is the moment you’ll seal your own fate,” Zemo warned. “I have danced with the Richards’ family often enough to know to take them seriously, even when they seem incapable of fighting back.” “Just do it,” the American ordered. “Or join him.” A moment of tension passed between them, and to the American’s satisfaction, Zemo tapped the console controls necessary to awaken Reed Richards. He would have broken this Zemo with the Eye’s power, enslaving him and ensnaring his mind, but having a willing accomplice with the face of his hated enemy was much more satisfying. The transparent cylinders were strong enough to absorb several direct strikes from the Hulk. The gas mixture within the tubes spun continuously, keeping the inhabitants dormant. After a moment, Reed’s eyes fluttered open and he turned left and right, quickly taking in the scene of his invaded home. When he saw the American step forward, Mister Fantastic smashed his hand against the inside of his prison, but to no avail. “Richards,” the American said. “Good evening. I have a request.” Reed’s fingers elongated, probing the edges of the containment cylinder for weaknesses, but having constructed it himself, knew how futile it was. “I’ll give you one chance to leave me and my family alone,” Reed said. “Leave now and—” The American waved his hand dismissively. “A pointless and hollow threat,” he said. “Listen carefully to my offer, Richards.” He held up the Evil Eye in front of the leader of the Fantastic Four. The scepter seemed to pulse with power as red bits of energy dripped off the crest like an overflowing waterglass. “My attempts to enslave the mind of someone that rides the dimension barrier like it was a fencepost are meeting with…difficulties. I should be able to usurp someone’s mind and convert them to my cause easily using this, especially once I’ve broken their spirit. But somehow I’m failing. Give me the solution to this conundrum and I’ll not only set your family free, but I’ll remove them from this reality to ensure their safety.” The American stepped closer. “You are a family man, are you not? Surely you realize how grave the situation is right now. I not only removed your family from play easily, but I’m in the process of doing so to the entire world’s heroes. So, if you’re waiting for the calvary to arrive, don’t.” “The word of a madman. How much is that worth? I’ve looked men like you in the face countless times, and you know what? I’ve never been intimidated. Not once.” Reed looked over the scepter quizzically. “Your offer is just as hollow as you claim my threat is. Is this really your plan? Ask for help?” The American nodded to Zemo, who tapped a few keys on the console and then turned to look at the cylinder beside Reed. Slumped on the floor of the container was a young girl, Valeria, the pride and joy of Reed and Sue Storm’s existence. Like her brother, Valeria had an aptitude for getting into precarious circumstances. Reed followed their gaze and saw his daughter’s eyes flutter open. He reached for her, but of course the glass between them kept them apart. Valeria sat up, her eyes blinking away the grogginess. She said something, but the microphone hadn’t been turned on in the sealed container and Reed couldn’t hear whatever it was she said. He felt anger and relief mix together as she tried to sit up. But then she clutched her throat and toppled forward, hitting her head against the container. Reed punched the inside of his prison again and again as he watched his daughter begin to suffocate. “Stop!” Reed shouted. “Let her breathe, you monster! She’s just a little girl!” “A little girl capable of world-devastating science, from what I understand,” the American replied, but another nod to Zemo restored the air to her tank. After a moment, Valeria calmed down as she visibly sucked in a lungful of precious air. A monitor beside the American fluttered to life, displaying the raw data that the Baxter Building’s instruments had captured when the American had tried to use the Eye against the Sentry. “I’ll give you a moment to review the information I have,” the American said. “I expect a competent result, or next time I’ll let her die and move on to your son.” Through grinding teeth, Reed pried his eyes away from his scared daughter and looked at the screen. His eyes rapidly moved back and forth, taken in the radiation readings, the saturation point details, and all of the other available data. “Is this the first time you’ve used the device?” Reed asked after a moment. The American shook his head. “No. Once on my world, and once more again here.” With a wave, the two other data sets appeared in comparison next to the Sentry’s readings. A silent moment passed again as Reed took in the information, his genius-level intellect making connections like few other minds could. The American raised an eyebrow when he saw Reed’s face finally react in what he imagined might be surprise. “What is it?” the American demanded. “What did you determine?” “When you used it on your world, what happened?” “I bent the will of your counterpart to serve me,” the American answered. “But he wasn’t useful to you after that, was he?” The American raised his chin in caution, as if readying himself for a revelation that wouldn’t be to his liking. “No. His intellect was reduced. He was practically braindead. At the time I assumed it was due to my novice understanding of how to use the device.” “And when you used it in this dimension,” Reed said, “am I right in assuming that the personality of the subject aligned with the counterpart’s? They essentially became carbon copies of each other?” The American thought of Tigra and how she had quickly switched from feral enemy to affectionate ally. Again, he had made an assumption that the Eye had enslaved this world’s Tigra, but Richards seemed to be insinuating something else had occurred. “Indeed,” he said after a moment. “The device isn’t what you think it is,” Reed finally said. “It’s not working the way you want because it doesn’t want to.” “What?” the American spat back. “You’re saying that the Eye is, what…sentient?” Reed pointed at one of the scrolling data tables. “See that?” he said. “Your Eye works primarily by adjusting brainwave activity through tachyon emissions. The Beta waves are converted to more relaxed Theta waves, manipulated in that state, and then reversed. But how many sets of Alpha waves do you see represented in each use case?” The American studied the screen, but it was Zemo who said, “Two. My god…there were two minds present each time. The subject…and the Eye.” Fzzzzz…BA-BOOM! The top of the Baxter Building seemed to wobble slightly as if it had been hit by a surface to air missile, even though it was one of the most heavily fortified buildings on the planet. The American rushed to Zemo’s side as the leader of the Masters of Evil switched to the external camera views mounted on the building. To their surprise, they were all painted in blinding white. “Disabled?” the American inquired. “No, the feeds are still there,” Zemo muttered. He tapped a few buttons. “I’d say they’re—” Fzzzzz…BA-BOOM! “—being blinded.” His fingers danced over the console to bring up another feed, one that wasn’t completely whitened. The screen showed a small fisheye view that quickly rose into the air, launching off of the roof of the Baxter Building and out over the city of New York. “A fresh drone. I’ll triangulate the seismic readings from the first two blasts and…yes. There!” He pointed at the screen to where two people stood atop Rockefeller Center, on the upper deck of the viewing area. One, a young woman wearing pink wraparound sunglasses and a yellow trench coat. The other, a trim man wearing a gaudy purple cape and yellow shoulder pads, his hand extended out to the young woman. Pink energy rippled off his arm, seemingly feeding her with raw current. She blew a large bubble of chewing gum and when it popped, slipped her sunglasses into place and stretched out her own arms. Sparks erupted from her palms, dripping off of the tower and to the street below. A second later a rocket of plasma burst from each palm, exploding as they hit the drove. Fzzzzz…BA-BOOM! “Jubilation Lee,” Zemo said. “The very mutant that Rogers’ hodgepodge crew rescued from the mansion this afternoon.”* * [See C.O.D.E. Confidential #5!] The American tightened his grip on both his shield and the Eye. “My reports tell me that she isn’t nearly this powerful. She’s not only blinding us, but it sounds like she might actually puncture the building.” “The man behind her is Fabian Cortez,” Zemo responded. “A radical mutant terrorist who can boost the power levels of other mutants. First Doom and now him…it would seem that the world’s villains are rallying against you. You are the greater evil, as it were.” “Her attacks are merely a feint,” the American said, turning away. “The real attack will likely come from the opposing direction if not a Pincer variation.” “Obviously,” Zemo said as he returned to manipulating the console. “I’ll recall some of our forces and reroute them to intercept. I know Rogers…I know where he’ll strike. He is nothing if not predictable.” “What my counterpart didn’t account for, could not have accounted for, will be what unveils him.” Zemo paused. “The Watchtower,” he said. The merged structure atop the Baxter Building had been brought over to this reality with what some had referred to as the White Event. It was the American’s initial use of the Evil Eye when he reached into every aspect of his entire home dimension and brought them here.* The phenomenon had blanketed the universe and merged people, buildings, and more with this dimension. * [Check out the Mirror Mirror: Masters one-shot!] “Linked to our yellow-clad friend in the next room,” the American said as he stepped into an elevator. “It’s time I put its full capabilities to use. Stand guard and let none of them in, Zemo.” As the elevator shut, he thought he detected another moment of hesitation from Zemo, but chose to ignore it. Rogers and his crew would be there soon, if they hadn’t infiltrated already. The distraction was obvious. Too obvious for someone he assumed was as tactically aware as himself. Zemo would have served his purpose once he was able to enact phase four on a global scale as planned. And if the Eye wasn’t about to use the Sentry as a doorway between the dimensions as planned, then he would leverage the Watchtower. It would be messy, perhaps even haphazard, but in the end the results would be the same. He would be triumphant and the rest would be subjugated. Fzzzzz…BA-BOOM! The white lights in the elevator blinked and then reset to red. Backup generators. Richards had built redundancies on top of redundancies. The mutant girl could pelt them all she liked; it would make no difference. The elevator doors opened and he stepped out onto the Baxter Building’s roof, which was littered with antenna, dishes, and other equipment. He looked up to see the shards of black supports jutting out from the Watchtower, the Sentry’s other-dimensional base of operations. Ironically, no one but the Sentry even knew it existed until now. Until the Eye had shown him. As the American walked to the lowered entryway that would lead him up into the Watchtower and victory, he reflected on that for a moment. How had he known to use the Eye to merge the Watchtower with this reality? Why had he thought to use the Sentry’s entanglement with the fabric of reality to his advantage? Originally, he had just planned to conquer a world where his most hated enemy was a known global threat. It was the perfect plan; because even if he hadn’t killed his Zemo and the other Masters and they managed to follow him here, no one would trust them. Was Richards right? Was the Eye sentient and manipulating him ever since he had reconstructed it? The Watchtower entrance, a massive double-door on scale with a medieval castle, retracted from his approach. The dark catacombs inside were littered with just as much technology as the Baxter Building and would certainly be a boon to any wayward scientist, but despite the plethora of treasures the American had need of only one specific item: CLOC. The Sentry’s personal Centrally Located Organic Computer, it had been captured alongside the Sentry himself shortly after the Void had confronted him on the outskirts of the Moon.* Held in check by its counterpart, COLC, the Computer to Obliterate Life Completely, the Sentry’s assistant would be the key to solving the Eye. * [Go read the brawl for yourself in C.O.D.E. Confidential #2] The main entryway of the Watchtower fed upwards via a spiraling stairway, wrapping around a central support pillar. His steps echoed in the dark reaches of the vast complex as he approached the captured computer, held in stasis by a field being generated by the Void’s evil robotic assistant. The shining silver orb of COLC, its tentacles wiggling and moving from input to input on the platform, turned toward him, blocking his view from the captured and dormant CLOC. “American,” COLC said as he stepped up to the platform above the pillar. “Your presence here suggests that your final phase has not been completed as projected.” “It’s the Eye,” the American said. “I need the Sentry’s machine to control it.” COLC’s silvery tentacles slithered in anticipation. “Ah,” its metallic voice said. “I would not advise bringing CLOC online. He’s been a bit…testy.” “He’s been deactivated since your encounter on the Moon.” “Ah,” COLC said again. “I may have taken the liberty of bringing him back online. Periodically. For testing.” “Testing?” the American said with a raised eyebrow. “You mean torture.” “Hmm…yes, ah…,” COLC said. “You see, I was under the impression that I could—” The American grabbed a handful of the floating machine’s tentacles, yanking him back and away from the stasis field. Within the field, CLOC was in pieces. Its silver shell was broken, completely disassembled from the inner workings of its complex body. Two of its own tentacles were vivisected to reveal various wires and fluids leaking out. Fzzzzz…BA-BOOM! The American whirled on COLC, smashing his shield into the bulbous iris at the center of its housing. “Imbecile!” he screamed. “I had need of that machine! He’s connected to the entire global communications network, feeding the Sentry with information to direct his inane heroic efforts.” The American gathered the tentacles again and swung the machine up over his head, slamming it into the stasis field. “This fortress is under siege!” the American continued. “At any moment, the so-called heroes could be here to try and stop my final phase from reaching fruition. All I need to do is unlock the power of the Eye and I will finally wrestle control of this wretched dimension.” Standing over the whirring and damaged COLC, the American took a deep breath and collected himself. “No matter,” he said. “I suppose you’ll do fine as a replacement. I assume you can interface with the Watchtower as well. But it will likely obliterate your programming in the process. Which will bring the wrath of your master. Although I suppose that is inevitable, isn’t it?” “Tk-tk-tk—” was all the robot could manage to say as it sputtered. The Great American bent to pick up his prize, which he would plug into the Watchtower’s mainframe and take control of the entire world’s telecommunications systems. He would unveil the other Rogers’ and use the Eye to broadcast a signal to the entire world, thereby enacting phase four of his C.O.D.E.: Enslave. It wouldn’t reach the entire dimension like he had originally planned, but he supposed the planet Earth was a start. Just as he was about to pick up the robot, the main entryway below slid open. The backlight of Baxter Building’s tower lighting flooded the Watchtower floor, casting a single intruder in a silhouette. The American stepped to the edge, not needing to see the person’s face clearly. He recognized the stature, because it was the same as his own. “Captain,” the American said. Captain America, legendary soldier from World War II and honorary leader of the majority of the world’s heroes, stepped out from the backlighting and into the open space of the entryway. His signature red, white, and blue shield was clutched at his side. He looked up silently at the American, as if to take his measure. “The mutant distraction was an interesting choice,” the American said as he stepped over COLC and began to descend. “Albeit an obvious one. Tell me, Captain, what do your precious democratic ideals tell you to do next? Should you form a caucus and vote me out of power?” The American reached the bottom of the spiraling staircase. “It’s those misguided ideals that keep you waiting for me to come down to your level,” the American continued. “A metaphor perhaps. I would have taken me by surprise. But you love a fair fight, don’t you, Captain?” The American sneered and raised the scepter, pointing the crest at Captain America’s chest. “But me? I just love winning.” The blast ripped through the air between them with lightning speed, but in the ticks between seconds Captain America’s form shimmered and somehow slid to the right several feet. Confused, the American brandished the Eye again, blasting once more to engulf his foe in its energy, but again the Captain shimmered and somehow slid to safety a few feet away, this time a bit closer. No. Not shimmered. Teleported. The Great American recognized the exchange for what it was and realized he had been betrayed. He turned just in time to see the adamantium knife slice down onto his forearm, severing it easily. He cried out in pain, gripping the stump of his arm to his chest as blood sprayed and he fell to his knees. A third of his arm fell to the floor, still gripping the Eye. “That is perhaps the one thing we have in common,” Baron Zemo said. “But I can assure you, that there can only be one winner in this contest.” The American looked up to see ‘Captain America’ close the gap between them in a heartbeat. He flicked the image inducer on his belt and the visage dropped away, revealing the Dakkamite warrior known as Quantum. Zemo’s teleporting pet. Which meant that Fixer was likely lurking in the shadows as well. He had been betrayed. He had expected as much from Zemo, but had assumed that the criminal mastermind would wait until the fruition of his C.O.D.E. before making his move. Fzzzzz…BA-BOOM! “The real Captain American will be making his way into the bottom floors of the Baxter Building by now,” Zemo said as he turned over the Eye in his hands, examining it. “You’re…ugh…a fool!” the American said. “Rogers will defeat you. Without my guidance, the C.O.D.E. will never be—” Zemo gripped the American’s stump and plunged his thumb into the wound. “I am many things, but a fool is not one of them. I suffered your C.O.D.E. long enough. It was doomed to fail from the very start. Perhaps in your mirrorverse things are different, but I have seen how the heroes of this world rally. They are coming for you. And I will serve you to them on a platter.” He slapped the American down and held up the Eye. “And with this, the world will finally know Zemo as its master.” The American kicked out Zemo’s feet from under him, dropping him down. With super-soldier enhanced speed and endurance, he ignored the throbbing pain of his injured limb and drove his shield’s edge into Quantum’s throat. The Dakkomite stumbled back, only phased, but the American was on his feet and pressing his attack in only a split second. He grabbed a fist-sized object from his utility belt and shoved it into Quantum’s open mouth, pressing a button as he did so. The device ignited, unleashing a cloud of particles down into Quantum’s lungs and causing the alien to clutch his throat as he choked. The American pulled a flare from his belt, dragged the cap against his shield to spark the end, and shoved the burning phosphorous into Quantum’s mouth. The particles burst and shredded the inside of Quantum’s chest, tossing them apart. The American regained his footing and spun, tossing his shield into the rising Zemo’s chest and knocking him back again. He pressed the flare into his stump with a scream, taking a moment to cauterize the wound. He then rolled forward before Zemo could collect himself, smashing his fist into Zemo’s face, feeling the satisfying crack of his jaw against his knuckles. With his shield again strapped to his left forearm, he bent down and recovered the Eye. When his fingers touched it, for a moment he thought he heard it speak inside his mind, screaming in protest. Was it true? Was it alive? “I was prepared for you to send your lapdog after me,” the American said, panting from the pain. “I just burned three ounces of thermite in his lungs. Even he can’t survive something like that.” The American got down close to Zemo, enjoying the sight of blood seeping out from under his mask. “I must admit,” the American said, “that it’s just as satisfying knocking you down in this dimension as it was the last one.” Zemo tried to sit up, but the American placed a boot on his chest to keep him in place. He glanced at the Eye. What was it that it was saying to him now? Control Zemo? No…spare him. Spare the betrayer. Which gave the American pause. Why would the Eye care if Zemo lived or died? The American felt betrayed yet again, his anger seething toward the Eye itself this time. He had risked everything to reconstruct the device, fighting off the Zemo and Masters from his own world. And now the Eye wanted to negate all of his decisions? For a moment he considered just destroying the device. He had enough forces in place to seize control of the planet. Through Zemo’s network and his own minions they had infiltrated virtually every agency on Earth already. The greatest leaders had plans within plans and the ability to take victory where guaranteed as opposed to hoping for the best. They could adapt. He would adapt. He raised the Eye overhead, preparing to smash it down on Zemo’s skull. He wouldn’t need to control this one. He just needed him dead. Thwip! Something entangled itself around the Eye with enough force to dislodge it from the American’s hand. It clattered to the ground, completely ensnared in some kind of thick cable with orange disks on the ends. He blinked, recognizing it as the signature weapon of a hero from his own dimension. The American spun, slipping into a crouch and whirling to launch his red and black shield at the doorway. The shield hurled with enough force to tear a man in half, but a hand simply snatched it by the rim with practiced precision. Standing in the doorway was Captain America, the real one this time, his arm extended to hold the American’s shield at bay. Beside him was the green-armored Goblin, who had thrown the bolo around the Eye, and flanking them both by sticking to the wall of the entryway was the enigmatic Spider-Man of this dimension. The American stood up and straightened his back, tipping his chin up to prepare himself for the fight that was to come. His cauterized stump throbbed and he was weaponless, but he would kill them all anyway. “Stand down,” Captain America said as he slipped the red and black shield onto his back. “We’ve taken control of the lower levels. It’s over.” “It’s never over,” the Great American said, and he pressed a button on his utility belt. Explosions rocked the foundation of the Baxter Building, causing the entire structure and the Watchtower to shudder. Cap launched himself forward, tossing his shield at the American, who ducked beneath it and raced forward, welcoming the conflict. Spider-Man and the Goblin both flanked to each side of Cap, not taking their opponent for less than he was, maimed though he might be. The American drove his remaining fist into Cap’s stomach, who rolled with the hit and spun to drive a backhand into the American’s temple, but what remained of the American’s other arm was already there, perpendicular to the strike and blocking it. Spider-Man latched a webline to the Eye and yanked, but the American twisted under a kick from Cap and flipped over, slamming his boot through the webline and snapping it before spinning back to tangle with Cap again. The Goblin rushed forward and dove at the American’s knees, but he leapt ten feet up and over the armored hero, again somersaulting forward to give himself space from the fray. “And I thought I was quick,” Spider-Man said as he swung up to the spiraling staircase for a better vantage point. He flicked his wrists and adhered two more weblines to the high ceiling and leaned back, feeling the malleable lines stretch. When they were taut, he leapt forward and was propelled with a boost from the weblines. “Banzai!” he shouted. Another series of explosions from within the Baxter Building shifted the base of the Watchtower and the entire structure began to lean. Metal scraped against metal as supporting beams were tested. Spider-Man spun head over heels to drive his feet at the American, but the super-soldier from another dimension grabbed the shoulder of the Goblin and flipped over him, effectively trading places so that the wallcrawler struck his own ally instead. A tangle of arms and legs, both the Goblin and Spider-Man were briefly disengaged from the fight. Cap rushed forward with his shield, smashing against the American’s, who had recovered his red and black version from Cap. Sparks split off from the twin shields striking and grinding together. “Your ideals will eventually betray you,” the American said. “See how quickly your own government handicapped you? I broke your precious democratic system.” “Democracy isn’t just a system; it’s a reflection of this country’s core values.” Cap leaned to the side, forcing more pressure on the American’s stump, causing him to buckle. Cap pressed forward, slapping the American’s shield up over his head and then slamming the center of his own red, white, and blue shield into his opponent’s face, drawing blood. “You may have wormed your way into the system, but you’ll never break it. It’s bigger than you, bigger than all of us. And do you know why you failed?” The American screamed as he drove an uppercut, but Cap deflected it and smashed his own red-gloved fist downward, putting the Great American down for the count. “Because you’re just a twisted, misguided reflection.” Spider-Man and the Goblin approached from opposite sides, standing next to Captain America. Spider-Man quickly webbed the American down to the floor, and while he had his doubts that his webbing would hold him if he were fully conscious, he felt a little better now that Cap had broken his nose. “Enjoy the nap,” the Goblin said. He got down to one knee, closer to the American. “Did the dictator burn all his energy trying to dominate an entire reality?” Spidey and Cap traded quick glances. “What a weirdo,” Spidey muttered. “He’s exactly like you,” Cap replied. Spider-Man feigned shock. “Uh, excuse me, but I would never be so rude as to mock an unconscious authoritarian.” “I literally watched you do that exact thing to Doom last week.” “Yeah, but he’s on our side now, so that doesn’t count.” The foundation of the Watchtower shifted again, slanting even more precariously. “We need to collect everyone and evacuate,” Cap said. “Goblin, I need you to—” The American was able to open his eyes enough to see why Captain America had choked back his orders. Through the haze of his addled mind, he saw a recovered Zemo brandishing the Evil Eye. He held it over his head as swirling energy trickled down the scepter and his arm, dripping onto the floor with pink shards of power. The Goblin, a phenomenal acrobat trained by his own father to be the hero that New York needed, did a handspring leading into a powerful kick that would have shattered bone. But he never made it past the force field that Zemo had erected using the Eye’s power. “Zemo!” Cap yelled and launched his shield at the Master of Evil, which bounced off of the energy shell encapsulating him. With the power keeping him safe, Zemo lowered the Evil Eye to look at it more closely. “It’s an incredible feeling,” he said, “to know that you are the smartest person in the room. The American was so…short-sighted, shall we say?” Captain America extended his hand toward Zemo. “Hand it over, Zemo. Power like that wasn’t meant for someone like you.” “I’ll tell you what, my dear Captain,” Zemo said as he extended the end of the Eye toward Captain America. “What say we speed things up to arrive where we always do?” A burst of white energy pulsed into the force field, extending it outward to ensnare Captain America, trapping him in a cocoon of energy with Baron Zemo. The tight purple mask stretched across Zemo’s face contorted in a smile as he said, “Just the two of us deciding the fate of the world.” Captain American lunged at Zemo, who spun under his slicing red, white, and blue shield and slammed the butt of the scepter into the Captain’s stomach. Recovering quickly, Captain America brought an uppercut into Zemo’s jaw, knocking him back against the force field, on the other side of which the heroes were collecting themselves to watch. Spider-Man stood guard over the Great American as the Goblin emerged from the shadows with the Fixer bound in his bolos. The building rocked slightly just as the Fantastic Four’s complete family, accompanied by Doctor Doom, entered the Watchtower. Behind them trickled in the Motivator, a Taskmaster and Titania from another dimension with two Tigras secured in zip ties, and still others. Captain America blocked a strike from the Eye with his shield, pressing forward to smash it into Zemo’s chest and pin him against the inside of the force field. All the while, the Great American was forced to watch as his grand scheme unraveled, usurped by another before his very eyes. “It’s over,” Captain America said. “You’ve lost. Just like always.” “No!” Zemo screamed as he pulsed another burst of power through the Eye, breaking the Captain’s footing and sending him reeling back. “They’ll bring everything down on us,” Reed Richards said as the Watchtower shifted yet again from the shockwaves of the Eye’s pulsed. “No,” Doom said. “Have faith.” Reed twisted his neck awkwardly to stretch his face in front of Doom’s masked one. “Faith, Victor? From you?” “You forget yourself, Richards,” Doom replied as he crossed his arms. “I am nothing if not entwined with beliefs of how things should be.” “Well,” the Goblin said as he set the Fixer down next to the captured Tigras, “I’m of the belief that we’re all going to die if we don’t get out of here.” “Preach!” Spider-Man said over his shoulder as he placed one foot on the American’s shoulder to press him down into the webbing. “Give up, Zemo!” the Captain shouted as he ducked beneath a beam of searing energy cast from the Eye. “Our eternal struggle ends here!” Zemo retorted. “All these years of being bound together, our fates intertwined, have driven me to the brink of madness. Today is the final day! I’ll not only unravel our fates, but with the power of this scepter I’ll unravel you from existence!” The beam splashed against the Captain’s shield, blocked, but this time Zemo opened the iris of the Evil Eye fully so that the beam widened. Zemo screamed as his own essence became merged with the Eye, as the iris somehow bent the funnel of radiant light back onto him. “What…what’s happening?” Zemo muttered and then his curiosity turned to terror as his mind was assaulted. The Eye was alive. And it was consuming him. “I…I don’t understand,” Zemo said. “I am the master. The Master of Evil!” From outside the force field, blinding white light filled the dome. The collective outside shielded their eyes as best the could, but the white light seemed to be everywhere all at once. Every corner of the interior of the Watchtower was illuminated. Then, just as suddenly as the light raged, it began to dim. Captain America lay on his back, unconscious and outside of the force field, cast out by the Eye itself. Reed Richards extended his arms under the Captain’s shoulder to prop him up as Susan, Ben, and others came closer to try and help. The heroic Titania from another dimension, forced here against her will, was the first to see through the haze of the blinding light. “Look!” she said, pointing at the dome of impenetrable power. Zemo was still within, but now instead of battling with his most hated foe, his fists were knuckle to knuckle with his own doppleganger. Another Zemo, who went by Captain Zemo, an exact match for the first, interlocked his hands with Baron Zemo and pressed against him. The scepter lay beneath them, jostled by their struggle. “I…I thought he was dead,” Taskmaster said. He turned to Titania. “Is it him? Is that really our Zemo?” Titania’s jaw clenched and she held her breath for a moment, afraid to speak her hopes out loud. Beside them, Captain America’s eyes ripped open and he sat up, gasping for breath. He reached out toward the Zemos, but nearly collapsed over. “Take it easy, Cap!” Spidey said. “We have to help him!” Cap exclaimed. “When the white energy touched me, I sensed him. He was trapped within the scepter for the last two years when the American first assembled it. For two long years, he’s been battling the will of the Great American from within the Evil Eye! And now with the iris fully opened, he’s able to come back and make one final stand.” “Final?” Titania asked as she knelt beside the Captain, a look of concern on her face. “What do you mean?” “I mean…I saw what he plans on doing.” “You think yourself a Master?” Captain Zemo said as he struggled to get the upper hand, his hands clenched with his foe. “To be a true Master is to control your own fate. That’s what my Masters were founded on.” “Silence!” Baron Zemo screamed, but he was growing tired and his voice broke. “Like your Avengers, to be a Master is to have the courage to be the world’s greatest, but not for the reasons your misguided mind leads you to believe. For two long years I was forced to watch my greatest enemy attempt a coup of your dimension, and you only saw a chance to grasp that power for yourself at the first chance.” Baron Zemo dropped to one knee. “Kill you!” he shouted. “But I used my time within the Eye to gain control. Control over my fate. To Master it. You think yourself a Master, Helmut? A Master of Evil?” He leaned down, bending his hands forward to break Baron Zemo’s grip and pop his knuckles. “You’re a Master of nothing.” Captain Zemo drove his boot into Baron Zemo’s chest, knocking him to the floor. He scooped up the Eye and pressed it to the Baron’s chest, unleashing the full power of the now open iris. They both screamed with their entire souls as their essence intertwined into a single being. Two Zemos made one. One entrant. One incumbent. The bubble around them shattered, splashing the watching collective with shards of fragmented power. Titania stood and rushed to the new Zemo, who was pulsing with invisible energy that pressed against her as she approached. “Helmut?” she said cautiously. “What have you done?” “I can feel him,” Zemo replied, his voice soft and flighty. “He’s in here. With me. Fighting. I won’t be able to keep him back for long. He’s so…angry. Filled with rage.” He looked up at Titania. “I’m sorry.” A tear formed in her eye. “Why? What’s going to happen next?” “I thought I had mastered the Eye’s power, but…” Zemo looked up, a blank look on his face as the shimmer emanating from his body grew brighter. “I think I can reset everything. I don’t know if it will work.” Titania gripped his hands. They were warm and quickly getting hotter. Even her durable skin was feeling the growing intensity of the energy consuming Zemo. “We can help,” she said. “You don’t have to do this alone.” The Watchtower rumbled and began to slide sideways off of the top of the Baxter Building. The equipment lining the walls inside sparked and burst apart from the stress of the entire complex bending in on itself. The collective people within were jostled as the structure tilted another twenty degrees, adding skewed perspective to the unfolding scene. The Great American found enough leverage from the buckling flooring beneath him to rip his one good arm free from Spider-Man’s webbing, and grabbed the wall-crawler’s ankle and tossed him into the other heroes. Flexing his super-soldier enhanced muscles, he tore himself free and ran for the newly combined Zemo. “The Eye is mine!” the American shouted as he knocked aside a surprised Titania. Zemo ducked under the American’s fist, scooping up the dropped scepter as he spun away, and pressed its end into the Great American’s chest. “This ends now!” Zemo said, and he pulled open the iris for the last time. A blanket of white. And then nothing as the universe was rebuilt. EPILOGUE I “Are you okay, Bob?” Robert Reynolds scratched his head, not really knowing how to react. Was he okay? He felt fine. In fact, he felt better than he had in years. Even without the power of the Sentry, the power of a million exploding suns, he truly felt good. He looked over at his best friend, Reed Richards, who had stretched his arm all the way across the lab to place a hand on his shoulder in comfort. He smirked and said, “Yeah, couldn’t be better. Just lost in thought, I guess.” “Think on your own time,” Reed said with a laugh. “I want to get this converter up and running so I can get to Valerie’s softball game.” “Ever the family man, huh, Reed?” “Forever and always.” Reed retracted his arm and began screwing components back into the massive device held over the worktable by a wench. “Can you run a diagnostic test on the Kree capacitor before I hook it up to the Skrull interface? I want to make sure nothing if wrong with it before I try and blend the tech together.” “You got it,” Bob replied as he picked up a datapad and began running through the testing sequence. His mind wandered again as he worked. Memories that didn’t quite seem to be his shuffled around in his mind, memories of soaring through the cosmos and wearing a golden uniform. Memories of an advanced citadel that was his base of operations. Memories of a battle on the surface of the moon with his darker self. He shook his head, tossing them away as fantasies. He was just Bob Reynolds, lad technician and assistant to Mister Fantastic. Thoughts of the Sentry were just a pipedream. Had he ever really been a hero? He didn’t think so. Or maybe he wasn’t sure. It didn’t much matter to him. He knew who he was in this moment. He ran the diagnostic test, feeling secure in the mundane task that allowed his mind to feel free and unencumbered. Around the edges of those memories he felt something tug, something dark. He imagined a blank spot between the fuzzy memories, sort of a void… “Everything look good to you?” Reed asked. “Hmm? Oh. Yep. Everything looks good to me. Let’s finish up and get to that ballgame.” Bob Reynolds tapped at the datapad and set it down to help Reed install the final components in their experiment. The daydreaming could wait. Right now he was needed, and not as a hero, but as an everyday, normal person who didn’t have a care in the world. EPILOGUE II Waves slapped against the jagged rocks that surrounded his private island, smashing new crevices into existence. It was the perfect metaphor for how Baron Helmut Zemo had lived his life. The island was small compared to some, but more than adequate for his needs these days. 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. As he watched the Dakkamite called Quantum, his puppet really, patrol the skies around the island Zemo felt the overwhelming feeling of déjà vu. His eyes opened wide at the revelation. Rushing back into the compound, he saw Fixer, his other loyal recruit, tinkering away at some cobbled together contraption. “Call up the nexus data,” Zemo ordered as he slid into a chair at a command console. Fixer dropped what he was working on and looked shocked. “Are you sure?” he said. “Accessing dimensional monitoring data can create causality problems. We should really first—” “Do as I say,” Zemo said as he began to furiously type at the console. The hologrammatic computer terminal sprung to life as Fixer jumped into the accompanying control seat next to Baron Zemo. The appropriated technology that Zemo had brought to the island was meant for monitoring his world network, but with Quantum and Fixer’s talents combined, Zemo had experimented with creating windows into other dimensions and timelines. He had thought of it when he had recorded dimensional energy spikes in the Florida Everglades. There was some kind of ultimate nexus there with energies ripe for the taking. He had toyed with the idea of leaving this dimension and invading another, but deemed it inefficient. Plus, fleeing this universe would mean that he conceded victory to Rogers. Instead, he mainlined the nexus energies from Florida and used them to monitor shifts in the universe. The sense of déjà vu had been a hypnotically implanted warning that something was amiss with the dimensional barriers. He guided the nexus machine’s dimensional strings of tachyon energy until they intertwined, watching the display carefully. “Keep an eye on the Earth-2149 timeline,” Fixer said. “There’s some kind of fluctuation there. Lots of variants running around.” “Variants…until they cross over. Then they’re entrants.” “Entrants? Did you make that up?” Zemo ignored him as he shifted through various dimensional strings. “Right, well, these ones are undead, so if they become entrants, then we’re in the middle of a George Romero movie.” Zemo searched until he saw one particular dimensional string out of place with what the nexus data had reported. “There!” he said and adjusted the finely-tuned experimental equipment to focus only on the single dimension. “What are we looking for exactly?” Fixer asked. “Didn’t you give up dimension hopping?” Zemo flipped from the data-driven screen to the viewer, opening an eye into another dimension in real time. He looked down on New York City, which looked exactly like their own in every single way, except where Avengers tower stood there was a slightly different building. Instead of the stylized ‘A’ at the apex of the building, there was an ‘M.’ Adjusting the viewer again, Zemo gazed into the other dimension without revealing himself. He saw former comrades training within the building, working as a coherent team: Taskmaster, Titania, and others he had used over the years. But they worked in conjunction, forming a single team in the same way he had seen the wretched Avengers perform. And at their helm was another Zemo. “Access the nexus catalogue,” Zemo said. “Okay, but I’m still saying that it doesn’t work,” Fixer replied. “A boot disk for the entire dimension? We never figured out how to get the storage to work.” “Just do it.” With a shrug, Fixer pulled out of the viewer and went back to the data-driven stream of information. Trillions of possible timelines unspooled on the display, the computer struggling to try and designate them all. He selected the Earth they had just been peaking at and called up the catalogue information that the nexus machine had automatically tried to capture, like a computer back-up image of the entire dimensional plane. The information was basic given the complexity, but would be enough to learn very minor things, like if anything had been altered. “Compare it against ours,” Zemo said. Fixer pulled up the image of their own dimension and overlaid it with the string from the other. “There…you see?” Zemo said, standing and pointing at where the two strings intertwined briefly. “Sure, but what does it mean?” “It means that our entire dimension has been rebooted somehow after intertwining with this other universe,” Zemo said. “But not reset.” “What’s the difference?” “The difference is our entire dimensional plane was just pushed back along our own string,” Zemo said as he clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace. “Whatever we experienced beforehand wasn’t erased. We just aren’t aware of it happening.” “But it happened.” “Yes. And that means there is an opportunity that only we are aware of.” Zemo paused in his pacing, looking up at the data. He flipped back to the viewer, seeing another Zemo walk down a long hallway and stop in front of a containment cell. To his shock, the cell held one prisoner: Steve Rogers. An exact copy in every way, except that he was missing a hand. “It means we can learn from someone else’s mistakes,” Zemo said. “And we can snatch victory from their defeat.” END |