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“America is great.”
The man who made this declaration to a roomful of men and women was tall and powerfully built. His costume was a black bodysuit with red boots and gloves, with colorful armor to protect his head and torso. Almost all blue, it had a silvery sheen with white stars on the chest, back and shoulders. From his abs to a point above the belt were vertical strips of red and white. On either side of his head was a white eagle wing, and the forehead was adorned with a white letter ‘A’, leaving no doubt as to who this man was.
“From the very beginning, we have taken what we wanted,” said the Great American. “Those who resisted, we killed and forced to serve us. When there were too few of them to serve us, we took who we wanted from across the ocean. When England tried to hold us back, we kicked them out, and made all this land our own. It was our destiny.”
His eyes scanned over the crowd, falling briefly across one man in the back. He clearly shouldn’t have belonged there, with his dark skin. But when he gave a nod the Great American smiled.
“These days, we’re held back by elements of our own country, by those who feel America shouldn’t be great. They talk about equality and fairness, preaching that the meek shall inherit. Worse, they encourage the worst of the world to swarm over our borders, to tarnish our country with their filth.”
A shield was raised above the Great American’s head. Rings of white and red, with a white star in the central field of blue, it had that same silvery sheen.
“In World War II, I fought harder for this country than anyone else! I fought for the idea that we should be the ones sweeping across the Earth. But no sooner had I scraped Hitler’s brains off my boots than my own country turned on me. If not for that bunker I’d found, with that experimental gas, I would have died and with me the dream of America.”
The shield was slammed into the concrete floor, ripping out a long chunk.
“But despite their best efforts I survived, and so has our country! After years asleep I woke and saw what they’ve tried to do, and I fight! Though they resist I press on, winning more to my side with each step. Here you are, willing to fight alongside me to keep America Great.”
There was a cheer among the sea of white faces.
“And now we know where he is, that red blooded bastard who first stabbed me in the back after I fought his battle. He, and those he’s poisoned, are going to die today. And America will be the stronger for it!”
# # # # #
“Could you repeat that, Sister?”
The man was old, and tired. His hearing was excellent, though some news did bear repeating.
“William’s body was found,” said the young woman known as Sister Salvation. “He’d been set on fire. Half his body was unrecognizable.” The irony was recognized, though not commented on. “We must accept that he revealed our location.”
A sigh passed the elderly man’s red lips. “Contact everyone that you can. When he arrives, with all that will follow such sickness, he will at least find me. Anyone else…it’s their choice.”
Sister Salvation took his hand in her own. “There are other houses. It is not necessary for-”
“I am old and dying. On my feet is preferable to in a bed. And besides, our Madame’s work cannot be easily moved. Whatever time can be bought for her, those will be minutes well spent.” He placed his other hand over hers. “Call them, Sister. I know at least a few would accuse me of trying to steal glory.”
# # # # #
“That looks like a church.”
The Great American was taking a call, and so didn’t immediately reply to Agent 13. “Update me when you have it. Not if, when.” He hanged up without waiting for a response. The Monster Society knew better than to fail him.
That business settled, the Great American acknowledged his agent. “Of course it’s a church. That old coward doesn’t present himself to the world in a gated mansion. He hides behind his misinterpretation of God. He is certain the righteous won’t strike him down, fearful of what the world would see.”
“Those who hate you will crow this as justification,” said Agent 13. “Those on our side may slink into silence. Or worse, be cowed into condemnation.”
“Then they’ll burn with the rest.”
The Great American leaped out of the specialized aircraft. He crashed shield-first through beautifully colored glass hundreds of years old. The others would follow on ropes and jetpacks, but they shouldn’t be needed. He was the country’s true champion and could destroy all threats, foreign and domestic.
That room of the building was a massive chapel, but empty of pews. Instead there were beds and equipment commonly found in a hospital. The only person inside was the Great American his eyes confirmed. He moved toward where the altar should be, but he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and, drawing his gun in one smooth motion, fired.
The man known as Sidewinder took the bullet to his chest and staggered against a bed. The notorious leader of the Serpent Society wasn’t dead, however. He wasn’t even bleeding, as the Great American saw that Sidewinder wasn’t wearing his trademarked crimson cloak, which would have hidden any blood.
“I’d heard you retired, snake.”
“What can I say, American,” said Sidewinder with a wheeze. The force of the bullet may have at least cracked a rib. “People want to leave this country, I can’t exactly turn them down.”
“Is that who you’ve lent your cloak too? asked the Great American. “Those coyotes deprive this nation of cheap, reliable labor.”
“I think you meant to say forced servitude.” Sidewinder stood up straight. “But no, I split it among the folks I’m distracting you from.”
Sidewinder had been successful, as the Great American failed to notice the rest of the Serpent Society until they were upon him from all directions. Coming at him from behind and either side were Anaconda, Death Adder, Cottonmouth, Bushmaster, Black Racer, Coachwhip, Copperhead and Fer-de-Lance. Attacking from above were Boomslang throwing his “serpent rangs” and Rattler, blasting sonic vibrations with his bionic tail.
The Great American had no choice to raise his shield over his head against the most immediate attack. Even so, the vibrations rattled his teeth so that he feared they may shatter. Anticipating that the impatient Black Racer would be the first to reach him, he moved nearly as quickly as she could and delivered a vicious kick to her mid-section. The kick precipitated a roll that helped to avoid Copperhead’s poisoned darts and Coachwhip’s electrified whips. Anaconda managed to reach and grab his other foot, however. The Great American reacted with one swift motion, smashing his shield against her arm and raising to shoot at her face. Death Adder was fast to react, tacking Anaconda out of the bullet’s path. The Great American’s dual actions had released her grip on him, though.
Nearly a dozen skilled enemies pressed the attack. Poisoned blades flashed, whips snapped, and tails crashed all around the Great American. But they were fighting more than a man, they were fighting an idea. How can any foe, no matter how determined, battle an idea? The Great American’s own knife flashed, his gun fired, and his mighty shield was thrown.
The long blade on Fer-de-Lance’s boot barely missed the Great American’s neck, but his knife found her torso and cut against a rib. Cottonmouth loomed over him, those bionic jaws open wide enough to consume a head. But before they could close, the Great American’s shield struck Rattler’s tail. A sonic blast went wild, knocking away Cottonmouth and Bushmaster.
Copperhead and Death Adder crashed against the Great American from either side. He could win a grapple against both, could likely kill both his gun and knife, but the others would take the opportunity to attack. Their self-sacrifice threatened to take the Great American down.
An explosive diamond sent the Great American reeling, but also sent his foes hurtling away. His reinforcements had arrived. Diamondback rushed into the fray, hurling weaponized diamonds at her former colleagues, a half-dozen armed fighters behind her. Among them was Agent 13, her white uniform already stained with blood.
“What took you so long?” demanded the Great American.
“The moment you left the plane hidden defenses activated,” explained Agent 13. “Along with scores of their filthy thugs.”
“Those teens are fighting to defend the only home they’re ever known,” should Boomslang. Snapper flew down and silenced him with a kick to the face.
“We can’t waste time with this scum, American,” Snapper snapped. “There’s a whole network of tunnels under this building.”
“That Red Blooded bastard could be crawling away as we speak.” Grabbing his shield from where it lay, the Great American rushed for the altar. It’d been when he moved toward that that Sidewinder his and his Society struck. Sure enough, when the Great American crashed against it, the altar fell aside to reveal an entrance underground. “Snapper, Diamondback, with me. Agent, skin me some snakes.”
The blonde beauty flashed a sinister smile. “Great one, it’ll be my sincere pleasure.”
# # # # #
Three were running through the underground tunnels, the Great American taking point with his shield. Flying just over his head was Snapper, and Diamondback was running just behind at his right. Shortly ahead, the tunnel widened significantly.
Diamondback didn’t have to be told what to do. As she approached the chamber, she withdrew a specialized, diamond-shaped device from her belt and threw it ahead. The diamond produced an explosion of light and sound, meant to disorient any who may be laying in wait. There didn’t appear to be any ambush, as the trio ran past the diamond fragments and saw the reason for the widened tunnel. It forked, each new path hidden behind thick metal doors.
“How extensive were the scans?” asked the Great American.
“To the right we detected a bunch of rooms,” Snapper said. “Sizes vary, and they extend under a number of buildings. We figured any or all could be escape routes. The left…we hadn’t picked up anything, thought it was just one path.”
“Then we take the road less traveled.” The door on the left didn’t last long against the Great American’s onslaught. It shattered after only a few blows. “Diamondback, stay here. We don’t need any surprises coming at us from the rear.”
“You got it.” Diamondback was eager to serve. But soon after the men were out of sight and hearing, she became antsy. She was eager to serve, not stand around waiting for something to happen.
Rolling a diamond along her fingers, Diamondback considered the other, closed door. At any moment something could burst through there, taking her by surprise. Wouldn’t it make sense to open the door, allowing her a view inside?
Deciding that it did, Diamondback threw the diamond. It exploded with a great deal more than light and sound, blasting the door into pieces. But among those pieces came a knife, unnoticed by Diamondback until it struck her high in right side of her chest, just where the shoulder would meet the collarbone.
“Somehow, I feeling a feeling you would be the one stupid enough to rush through.” The man who emerged from the ruined door was masked, but Diamondback knew him well. Ever since childhood he’d been a rough do-gooder, not afraid to cheat if it meant pulling down somebody he thought was a bully. Willing to bear the cross, he’d sometime say.
“It ain’t too late for you ta turn back, kid,” said Crossbearer. He was armed with a high-powered handgun in one hand and an array of knives strapped to his body. Diamondback recognized them as having belonged to her brother.
“And go out like my brother did, because of you? I don’t think so!” Either unaware or uncaring that the tunnel could collapse, Diamondback hurled an explosive diamond. Crossbearer dived out of the way and fired. She caught a round in the leg, greatly pained by the rubber bullet.
“If you force things, I’ll have to get sharp,” said Crossbearer. “Neither of us wants that. You were a good girl, once.”
“Only because of your lies,” Diamondback snarled. “And what I want is you dead.”
Three razor-sharp diamonds were hurled at Crossbearer. He narrowly dodged one, managed to deflect another by throwing his knife, while the third managed to graze the side of his masked head. A piece of taken out of his right ear, and at the sight of blood Diamondback grinned.
“Soon the venom will take effect. You’ll start to feel slow, and I’ll see you stopped for good.”
Already, Crossbearer was feeling light-headed. He rapidly fired his gun at Diamondback while rushing at her. When the rounds were spent, the tossed the weapon aside and grabbed at her arm, on her wounded side. Diamondback grunted in pain, kicked at his groin, and Crossbearer punched her in the face.
“Dammit, I don’t want to kill you!” Crossbearer dragged Diamondback to the ground, and drew a knife. His numb fingers could barely grasp the handle. “But it’s plain I’m gonna have to.”
Pinned and wounded as she was, Diamondback had no real choice in what sort of diamond she could grab from among her pouches. Fortunately, the knew the feel of each one, so knew exactly what she held. Closing her eyes, Diamondback managed to force her hand between her face and Crossbearer’s, and pressed hard. The diamond released a powerful burst of light. Crossbearer drew back with a pained cry, his grip on the knife lost.
Still able to see, Diamondback had no problem snatching the knife before it could hit the floor. His vision momentarily lost, Crossbearer had no defense when Diamondback jabbed the knife into his neck. Nor when she did it the second time, and the third.
“Yeah, in your state I certainly didn’t have to kill you,” Diamondback told Crossbearer as blood flowed out of him. “But I most definitely wanted to.”
# # # # #
Snapper and the Great American had made it far enough down the tunnel that Diamondback’s explosion wasn’t more than a distant echo and some mild tremors. Still flying just ahead of the Great American, Snapper grinned and said, “Girl gets bored easily.”
“What she may have done is gotten herself killed,” said the Great American. “At least if that tunnel collapsed over her head, we won’t have to worry about our six. And anybody who manages to get past us won’t be able to escape that way, either.”
“Assuming there aren’t other exits ahead,” said Snapper. “Or that anybody is even in this section.”
“This area is too well-shield from scans, there must be something important. And the Red Blooded, that bastard, he won’t abandon it to me. It looks like there are other tunnels up ahead, so stay sharp.”
A circular disc emerged into view, bounced off the ceiling, and stuck Snapper on his back. He cried out in pain and crashed to the ground, stunned. The Great American vaulted over him, shield ready and gun drawn. A second disc was thrown in his direction, but was shot out of the air.
“That’s only a stun disc, Snapper,” said the Great American. “Overcome your inferiority and remove it.”
“Already done.” Snapper rose to his feet, the electrical device on the ground beside him. “So, Nomad decided to come out and play.”
“And he’s brought a friend.” A large man burst through a fake wall in the tunnel, knocking away the Great American’s gun with a backhand. He was taller, wider, dressed all in black with the American flag emblazoned across his chest. As he threw a punch at the Great American’s head, a device on his wrist activated and a discus of energy formed, intending to remove his target’s head.
But the Great American blocked the energy shield with his own, unbreakable, shield. “I’m a little surprised to see you here, USAgent. Last I heard you were overseas, protecting insurgents from our own troops.”
“Those were refugees I evacuated from a war zone.” USAgent pressed forward, using his greater strength to force the Great American back.
Nomad had rushed down the tunnel, faster than any normal man could run. His gold and yellow cape fluttered behind him as he jumped at the engaged Great American. Nomad’s arms grabbed around the Great American’s neck, pressing his head against the bare chest exposed by the deep V-neck of Nomad’s costume.
“You’re gonna pay for your crimes, Rogers. Pay in spades!”
Pressed on both sides by the more powerful men, the Great American recalled the fears of his youth. Then, he’d been weak and cowardly, easy prey for the neighborhood toughs. Anything could have been done to him, and so Steve Rogers learned the importance of other strengths. Among those was how to direct opponents against each other.
The Great American reduced his efforts by a hair and bent his knees. USAgent’s shield shifted up as he unexpectedly went forward half-a-step. The Great American used the leverage to his advantage, slamming USAgent hard against the side of Nomad. The grip around his neck broke, his two opponents smashed against the tunnel wall, and the Great American rolled backward toward Snapper.
“If you can get through them, go on ahead,” said the Great American. “I’ll catch up once I’ve dealt with these two.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Snapper took to the air. USAgent had recovered first and began to raise his arm, intending to activated his energy shield as a force blast. But where Snapper went high, the Great American went low. His knife was pulled and thrown with a flick of the wrist, and USAgent barely activated his shield in time to block it. Snapper passed overhead and beyond reach.
Bereft of his weapons, the Great American faced down USAgent and Nomad with only his shield. “This is your final chance to surrender.”
“Was that a chance you gave Billy?” asked Nomad. In the fifties, they had tried to live up to the official story of the Great American. But they learned the truth, ended up in suspended animation by Soviet agents until the Great American himself had discovered them. Awoken but with addled memories, the Grand Director and Scourge had been manipulated into fighting for a twisted version of the American dream. “He chose to die rather than return to being your puppet. So would I.”
“Every second I waste here is another second I’m not after your boy.” USAgent rushed forward, enraged. The way he’d been raised, the values he’d been taught, by rights the Great American should have counted him an ally. But some men, for all their thoughts and talk, turn out to be cowards when the time comes to act. USAgent was never willing to stand for anything.
He made as though running forward to meet USAgent, but at the last moment the Great American pivoted to the side. Faster than the Great American, USAgent’s speed proved a liability when he tried to brake. His foot caught on the Great American’s and so he pitched forward. He’d recover but not too quickly, and those extra seconds would be crucial as the Great America threw his shield at Nomad.
With a laugh, Nomad grabbed the shield easily, while hurling a stun disc at the Great American. As he made a spinning leap into the air, Rogers pressed a stud on his glove. The stun disc was caught by a flying roundhouse kick and send hurtling back at Nomad. The young hero may had brought down the shield to deflect it, but that stud had activated a brief surge of electricity. Nomad’s physiology made it little more than a shock, but he did drop the shield just before the stun disc connected with his bared chest.
In a smooth motion, the Great American scooped up his shield and kicked Nomad in the face. USAgent was already up and giving chase, but now he and Nomad were on the wrong side of the tunnel. The Great American pulled an explosive charge and threw it at the ceiling.
The explosion was minor, but the effect was tremendous. That section of tunnel collapsed over Nomad and USAgent, burying them under an avalanche of debris. The Great American paused to admire the handiwork and gloat.
“I hope the two of you survive this. That we dig out your battered but breathing bodies. Turning your malleable minds over to my way of thinking, that’ll be so gratifying.”
# # # # #
The farther into the tunnel Snapper flew, the more of a maze it became. Passages opened, caverns loomed, and every curve seemed to become two or three splits. But all the way, he seemed to know exactly where he was going, as though a voice called to him. Snapper suspected way, and he made sure to drop markers should the Great American be following.
To me, my brother of color.
There was no voice, no sound, merely the words in Snapper’s head that he knew weren’t his. The path on which he was guided sloped up, and he knew the door he found at the end of that passage wasn’t locked. Flipping his body mid-flight, Snapper crashed against the wooden door feet first and it burst open. He found himself in a second church, much larger than the first. But instead of a make-shift hospital this was very much meant to be a church, all the pews and icons in place.
Sitting in the center aisle, directly before the alter was an old man. He looked almost like a doll in the wheelchair, so small and frail he was. Not a wisp of hair was on that withered head, the skull clearly outlined under that stretched skin that had such a slight reddish tint. Snapper knew this man, had had his life changed by this man and the ultimate power he so briefly held.
“The Red-Blooded.” It came out like a curse past Snapper’s lips.
The old man gave a faint sigh. “Please, Sam, you could I prefer Johann Schmidt. That name, it was a response to the Nazi’s and their divisiveness. For all our differences, we all bleed red. Even you and I, despite all that had happened. You used to be such a nice man, so driven to help before my mistake.”
“That wasn’t no mistake, old man.” The memory of who he’d been brought a grimace to Snapper’s lips. “That was my pop, the preacher slaving away while I saw the world for what it is. Yeah, when he died it messed me up something fierce, made me think of helping my fellow man. Then you reminded me of who I really was.”
“I tried to give you the power to help me help others,” Johann said. “I asked you to be the man you always knew you were. A pity I didn’t know who you used to be.”
“Except I’m not who I used to be!” Snapper’s artificial wings loomed large. “I’m still helping, only now I know how to do it best! With power and violence, with enough gas in the room a match will blow the whole building to hell.”
“You know that Rogers wants you and all he sees as your kind to burn. I still fail to understand how a man such as yourself would fall in lockstep behind him.”
“Because what you protect is a world of small slights,” was Snapper’s answer. “Death by a thousand cuts is death before you know it, and tolerable for most. Hell, it’s all they’ve known. But the Great American ass, he’s not about the little cuts. He wants the return of whips and bent backs. That’ll end the tolerance, and sure he may suppress the first riots and maybe those after, but soon even he’ll be worn down. And that, that is when the system gets torn down.”
“After how much death and destruction, who would be left to rebuild?” asked Johann.
Snapper pulled the knife from his belt. “It sure as hell won’t be you!”
Before he could take a step toward the old man, a shadow moved from the pews beside Snapper. He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and took to the air, intending to avoid the tackle. But much to Snapper’s surprise, the gaunt figure dressed reminiscent of a bat also took to the air.
“Baron Blood!” A slash of his knife should have kept Snapper’s personal space from being invaded. But the vampire’s reflexes were super-human, and he grabbed Snapper’s wrist with a strength that threatened to break it.
“Don’t call me that!” Baron Blood had been the envious brother who’d tried to hunt a monster and instead became one. Baron Blood had sided with Germany for a quick end to a brutal war, but refused to join the later Reich who then imprisoned him. It was Lord Falsworth who pushed at Snapper, right through a stained glass window and out of the church.
“I have a chance,” Johann said out loud. Seeing movement beyond the trap door, he continued. “Lord Falsworth tries to avoid death, but in conflict his base instincts take over. You friend may not survive.”
“That boy isn’t my friend.” The Great American emerged to face his oldest enemy. “It may be that you did me a favor. Eventually I would have to do the deed myself.”
“Like you did with my friends, Barons Zemo and Strucker. Perhaps I could have held out longer, but I’m an old man, and tired.”
Lacking his gun and knife, the Great American could have thrown his shield, and relished the thought of that bastards head coming off. But he wanted to feel it up close, and so walked forward. “When you’re dead, they’ll be no one left to stop me. Everyone else has either fallen, or soon will.”
“That is where you’re wrong.” Johann smiled, showing a number of missing teeth. One had been more recent. “She wouldn’t have been my first choice, or even my second. Her views and methods may be what’s necessary, but the cost…as I said, I am old and tired.”
“No!” The old man slumped forward as the Great American was only a few feet away. He crossed the distance with a final great leap and hefted the already-dead body with one hand. “Damn you, it should have been me!”
The body was hurled against the pews. The Great American was on it immediately, smashing and pulping with shield and fists. What he’d dreamed of for years, but it was worthless without a victim to feel pain. “It should have me to end you!”
The dart wasn’t felt at first. With the way the Great American’s blood was pumping, the effects were almost immediately. His legs gave out, and while he tried to grab a pew for support, it didn’t matter when his arms also gave out.
She emerged from a hidden alcove, the dart gun tucked back into her belt. The Great American was still able to see, and what he saw was a woman dressed in a bodysuit of all colors, like a rainbow. Her long dark hair covered the left side of her face, but what features he saw were beautiful. She approached him with confidence.
“Don’t worry, coward. Your constitution will survive the poison, I’m not the sort to murder a helpless opponent.” She was almost close enough to grab by the neck. “This is more of an introduction. You may call me Madame Hydra.”
“Hy…” He tried to speak, but the Great American couldn’t get the words out.
“Surely you’ve heard of the beast from Greek myth. One body, ruled by many heads. Much like this country, a republic of states that you try to tear down. Along with chemistry, I’m quite the student of myths, from the earliest pagan tales to the more recent cults. There’s a truth behind each of them, and it’s important to understand that truth in order to best fight it.”
When she looked at what remained of Johann Schmidt, there was no emotion in Madame Hydra’s face. Nor when she met the Great American’s eyes. Only cold, logical study.
“For instance, yours is a cult of personality, gathered around your ideas of greatness. When your followers find you helpless, you’ll try to explain it away. He tried to cheat with toxins, but you overcame that and beat him with your great power. But I know the lie, and you know the lie.”
Madame Hydra took a step back and pulled a vial from her belt. The Great American saw it contained a white substance, and dismissed his first thought of what it could be.
“This cocaine has been altered on a molecular level,” Madame Hydra explained. “The reason for delaying you was to have the supply removed for distribution. Those who take this will be similarly altered, but not right away. The results won’t be seen for months, and the truth will be laid bare.”
Madame Hydra turned to leave, but not without parting words. “It’s some of what I injected you with.”
Be sure to keep a lookout for more Great American in the future!
The man who made this declaration to a roomful of men and women was tall and powerfully built. His costume was a black bodysuit with red boots and gloves, with colorful armor to protect his head and torso. Almost all blue, it had a silvery sheen with white stars on the chest, back and shoulders. From his abs to a point above the belt were vertical strips of red and white. On either side of his head was a white eagle wing, and the forehead was adorned with a white letter ‘A’, leaving no doubt as to who this man was.
“From the very beginning, we have taken what we wanted,” said the Great American. “Those who resisted, we killed and forced to serve us. When there were too few of them to serve us, we took who we wanted from across the ocean. When England tried to hold us back, we kicked them out, and made all this land our own. It was our destiny.”
His eyes scanned over the crowd, falling briefly across one man in the back. He clearly shouldn’t have belonged there, with his dark skin. But when he gave a nod the Great American smiled.
“These days, we’re held back by elements of our own country, by those who feel America shouldn’t be great. They talk about equality and fairness, preaching that the meek shall inherit. Worse, they encourage the worst of the world to swarm over our borders, to tarnish our country with their filth.”
A shield was raised above the Great American’s head. Rings of white and red, with a white star in the central field of blue, it had that same silvery sheen.
“In World War II, I fought harder for this country than anyone else! I fought for the idea that we should be the ones sweeping across the Earth. But no sooner had I scraped Hitler’s brains off my boots than my own country turned on me. If not for that bunker I’d found, with that experimental gas, I would have died and with me the dream of America.”
The shield was slammed into the concrete floor, ripping out a long chunk.
“But despite their best efforts I survived, and so has our country! After years asleep I woke and saw what they’ve tried to do, and I fight! Though they resist I press on, winning more to my side with each step. Here you are, willing to fight alongside me to keep America Great.”
There was a cheer among the sea of white faces.
“And now we know where he is, that red blooded bastard who first stabbed me in the back after I fought his battle. He, and those he’s poisoned, are going to die today. And America will be the stronger for it!”
# # # # #
“Could you repeat that, Sister?”
The man was old, and tired. His hearing was excellent, though some news did bear repeating.
“William’s body was found,” said the young woman known as Sister Salvation. “He’d been set on fire. Half his body was unrecognizable.” The irony was recognized, though not commented on. “We must accept that he revealed our location.”
A sigh passed the elderly man’s red lips. “Contact everyone that you can. When he arrives, with all that will follow such sickness, he will at least find me. Anyone else…it’s their choice.”
Sister Salvation took his hand in her own. “There are other houses. It is not necessary for-”
“I am old and dying. On my feet is preferable to in a bed. And besides, our Madame’s work cannot be easily moved. Whatever time can be bought for her, those will be minutes well spent.” He placed his other hand over hers. “Call them, Sister. I know at least a few would accuse me of trying to steal glory.”
# # # # #
“That looks like a church.”
The Great American was taking a call, and so didn’t immediately reply to Agent 13. “Update me when you have it. Not if, when.” He hanged up without waiting for a response. The Monster Society knew better than to fail him.
That business settled, the Great American acknowledged his agent. “Of course it’s a church. That old coward doesn’t present himself to the world in a gated mansion. He hides behind his misinterpretation of God. He is certain the righteous won’t strike him down, fearful of what the world would see.”
“Those who hate you will crow this as justification,” said Agent 13. “Those on our side may slink into silence. Or worse, be cowed into condemnation.”
“Then they’ll burn with the rest.”
The Great American leaped out of the specialized aircraft. He crashed shield-first through beautifully colored glass hundreds of years old. The others would follow on ropes and jetpacks, but they shouldn’t be needed. He was the country’s true champion and could destroy all threats, foreign and domestic.
That room of the building was a massive chapel, but empty of pews. Instead there were beds and equipment commonly found in a hospital. The only person inside was the Great American his eyes confirmed. He moved toward where the altar should be, but he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and, drawing his gun in one smooth motion, fired.
The man known as Sidewinder took the bullet to his chest and staggered against a bed. The notorious leader of the Serpent Society wasn’t dead, however. He wasn’t even bleeding, as the Great American saw that Sidewinder wasn’t wearing his trademarked crimson cloak, which would have hidden any blood.
“I’d heard you retired, snake.”
“What can I say, American,” said Sidewinder with a wheeze. The force of the bullet may have at least cracked a rib. “People want to leave this country, I can’t exactly turn them down.”
“Is that who you’ve lent your cloak too? asked the Great American. “Those coyotes deprive this nation of cheap, reliable labor.”
“I think you meant to say forced servitude.” Sidewinder stood up straight. “But no, I split it among the folks I’m distracting you from.”
Sidewinder had been successful, as the Great American failed to notice the rest of the Serpent Society until they were upon him from all directions. Coming at him from behind and either side were Anaconda, Death Adder, Cottonmouth, Bushmaster, Black Racer, Coachwhip, Copperhead and Fer-de-Lance. Attacking from above were Boomslang throwing his “serpent rangs” and Rattler, blasting sonic vibrations with his bionic tail.
The Great American had no choice to raise his shield over his head against the most immediate attack. Even so, the vibrations rattled his teeth so that he feared they may shatter. Anticipating that the impatient Black Racer would be the first to reach him, he moved nearly as quickly as she could and delivered a vicious kick to her mid-section. The kick precipitated a roll that helped to avoid Copperhead’s poisoned darts and Coachwhip’s electrified whips. Anaconda managed to reach and grab his other foot, however. The Great American reacted with one swift motion, smashing his shield against her arm and raising to shoot at her face. Death Adder was fast to react, tacking Anaconda out of the bullet’s path. The Great American’s dual actions had released her grip on him, though.
Nearly a dozen skilled enemies pressed the attack. Poisoned blades flashed, whips snapped, and tails crashed all around the Great American. But they were fighting more than a man, they were fighting an idea. How can any foe, no matter how determined, battle an idea? The Great American’s own knife flashed, his gun fired, and his mighty shield was thrown.
The long blade on Fer-de-Lance’s boot barely missed the Great American’s neck, but his knife found her torso and cut against a rib. Cottonmouth loomed over him, those bionic jaws open wide enough to consume a head. But before they could close, the Great American’s shield struck Rattler’s tail. A sonic blast went wild, knocking away Cottonmouth and Bushmaster.
Copperhead and Death Adder crashed against the Great American from either side. He could win a grapple against both, could likely kill both his gun and knife, but the others would take the opportunity to attack. Their self-sacrifice threatened to take the Great American down.
An explosive diamond sent the Great American reeling, but also sent his foes hurtling away. His reinforcements had arrived. Diamondback rushed into the fray, hurling weaponized diamonds at her former colleagues, a half-dozen armed fighters behind her. Among them was Agent 13, her white uniform already stained with blood.
“What took you so long?” demanded the Great American.
“The moment you left the plane hidden defenses activated,” explained Agent 13. “Along with scores of their filthy thugs.”
“Those teens are fighting to defend the only home they’re ever known,” should Boomslang. Snapper flew down and silenced him with a kick to the face.
“We can’t waste time with this scum, American,” Snapper snapped. “There’s a whole network of tunnels under this building.”
“That Red Blooded bastard could be crawling away as we speak.” Grabbing his shield from where it lay, the Great American rushed for the altar. It’d been when he moved toward that that Sidewinder his and his Society struck. Sure enough, when the Great American crashed against it, the altar fell aside to reveal an entrance underground. “Snapper, Diamondback, with me. Agent, skin me some snakes.”
The blonde beauty flashed a sinister smile. “Great one, it’ll be my sincere pleasure.”
# # # # #
Three were running through the underground tunnels, the Great American taking point with his shield. Flying just over his head was Snapper, and Diamondback was running just behind at his right. Shortly ahead, the tunnel widened significantly.
Diamondback didn’t have to be told what to do. As she approached the chamber, she withdrew a specialized, diamond-shaped device from her belt and threw it ahead. The diamond produced an explosion of light and sound, meant to disorient any who may be laying in wait. There didn’t appear to be any ambush, as the trio ran past the diamond fragments and saw the reason for the widened tunnel. It forked, each new path hidden behind thick metal doors.
“How extensive were the scans?” asked the Great American.
“To the right we detected a bunch of rooms,” Snapper said. “Sizes vary, and they extend under a number of buildings. We figured any or all could be escape routes. The left…we hadn’t picked up anything, thought it was just one path.”
“Then we take the road less traveled.” The door on the left didn’t last long against the Great American’s onslaught. It shattered after only a few blows. “Diamondback, stay here. We don’t need any surprises coming at us from the rear.”
“You got it.” Diamondback was eager to serve. But soon after the men were out of sight and hearing, she became antsy. She was eager to serve, not stand around waiting for something to happen.
Rolling a diamond along her fingers, Diamondback considered the other, closed door. At any moment something could burst through there, taking her by surprise. Wouldn’t it make sense to open the door, allowing her a view inside?
Deciding that it did, Diamondback threw the diamond. It exploded with a great deal more than light and sound, blasting the door into pieces. But among those pieces came a knife, unnoticed by Diamondback until it struck her high in right side of her chest, just where the shoulder would meet the collarbone.
“Somehow, I feeling a feeling you would be the one stupid enough to rush through.” The man who emerged from the ruined door was masked, but Diamondback knew him well. Ever since childhood he’d been a rough do-gooder, not afraid to cheat if it meant pulling down somebody he thought was a bully. Willing to bear the cross, he’d sometime say.
“It ain’t too late for you ta turn back, kid,” said Crossbearer. He was armed with a high-powered handgun in one hand and an array of knives strapped to his body. Diamondback recognized them as having belonged to her brother.
“And go out like my brother did, because of you? I don’t think so!” Either unaware or uncaring that the tunnel could collapse, Diamondback hurled an explosive diamond. Crossbearer dived out of the way and fired. She caught a round in the leg, greatly pained by the rubber bullet.
“If you force things, I’ll have to get sharp,” said Crossbearer. “Neither of us wants that. You were a good girl, once.”
“Only because of your lies,” Diamondback snarled. “And what I want is you dead.”
Three razor-sharp diamonds were hurled at Crossbearer. He narrowly dodged one, managed to deflect another by throwing his knife, while the third managed to graze the side of his masked head. A piece of taken out of his right ear, and at the sight of blood Diamondback grinned.
“Soon the venom will take effect. You’ll start to feel slow, and I’ll see you stopped for good.”
Already, Crossbearer was feeling light-headed. He rapidly fired his gun at Diamondback while rushing at her. When the rounds were spent, the tossed the weapon aside and grabbed at her arm, on her wounded side. Diamondback grunted in pain, kicked at his groin, and Crossbearer punched her in the face.
“Dammit, I don’t want to kill you!” Crossbearer dragged Diamondback to the ground, and drew a knife. His numb fingers could barely grasp the handle. “But it’s plain I’m gonna have to.”
Pinned and wounded as she was, Diamondback had no real choice in what sort of diamond she could grab from among her pouches. Fortunately, the knew the feel of each one, so knew exactly what she held. Closing her eyes, Diamondback managed to force her hand between her face and Crossbearer’s, and pressed hard. The diamond released a powerful burst of light. Crossbearer drew back with a pained cry, his grip on the knife lost.
Still able to see, Diamondback had no problem snatching the knife before it could hit the floor. His vision momentarily lost, Crossbearer had no defense when Diamondback jabbed the knife into his neck. Nor when she did it the second time, and the third.
“Yeah, in your state I certainly didn’t have to kill you,” Diamondback told Crossbearer as blood flowed out of him. “But I most definitely wanted to.”
# # # # #
Snapper and the Great American had made it far enough down the tunnel that Diamondback’s explosion wasn’t more than a distant echo and some mild tremors. Still flying just ahead of the Great American, Snapper grinned and said, “Girl gets bored easily.”
“What she may have done is gotten herself killed,” said the Great American. “At least if that tunnel collapsed over her head, we won’t have to worry about our six. And anybody who manages to get past us won’t be able to escape that way, either.”
“Assuming there aren’t other exits ahead,” said Snapper. “Or that anybody is even in this section.”
“This area is too well-shield from scans, there must be something important. And the Red Blooded, that bastard, he won’t abandon it to me. It looks like there are other tunnels up ahead, so stay sharp.”
A circular disc emerged into view, bounced off the ceiling, and stuck Snapper on his back. He cried out in pain and crashed to the ground, stunned. The Great American vaulted over him, shield ready and gun drawn. A second disc was thrown in his direction, but was shot out of the air.
“That’s only a stun disc, Snapper,” said the Great American. “Overcome your inferiority and remove it.”
“Already done.” Snapper rose to his feet, the electrical device on the ground beside him. “So, Nomad decided to come out and play.”
“And he’s brought a friend.” A large man burst through a fake wall in the tunnel, knocking away the Great American’s gun with a backhand. He was taller, wider, dressed all in black with the American flag emblazoned across his chest. As he threw a punch at the Great American’s head, a device on his wrist activated and a discus of energy formed, intending to remove his target’s head.
But the Great American blocked the energy shield with his own, unbreakable, shield. “I’m a little surprised to see you here, USAgent. Last I heard you were overseas, protecting insurgents from our own troops.”
“Those were refugees I evacuated from a war zone.” USAgent pressed forward, using his greater strength to force the Great American back.
Nomad had rushed down the tunnel, faster than any normal man could run. His gold and yellow cape fluttered behind him as he jumped at the engaged Great American. Nomad’s arms grabbed around the Great American’s neck, pressing his head against the bare chest exposed by the deep V-neck of Nomad’s costume.
“You’re gonna pay for your crimes, Rogers. Pay in spades!”
Pressed on both sides by the more powerful men, the Great American recalled the fears of his youth. Then, he’d been weak and cowardly, easy prey for the neighborhood toughs. Anything could have been done to him, and so Steve Rogers learned the importance of other strengths. Among those was how to direct opponents against each other.
The Great American reduced his efforts by a hair and bent his knees. USAgent’s shield shifted up as he unexpectedly went forward half-a-step. The Great American used the leverage to his advantage, slamming USAgent hard against the side of Nomad. The grip around his neck broke, his two opponents smashed against the tunnel wall, and the Great American rolled backward toward Snapper.
“If you can get through them, go on ahead,” said the Great American. “I’ll catch up once I’ve dealt with these two.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Snapper took to the air. USAgent had recovered first and began to raise his arm, intending to activated his energy shield as a force blast. But where Snapper went high, the Great American went low. His knife was pulled and thrown with a flick of the wrist, and USAgent barely activated his shield in time to block it. Snapper passed overhead and beyond reach.
Bereft of his weapons, the Great American faced down USAgent and Nomad with only his shield. “This is your final chance to surrender.”
“Was that a chance you gave Billy?” asked Nomad. In the fifties, they had tried to live up to the official story of the Great American. But they learned the truth, ended up in suspended animation by Soviet agents until the Great American himself had discovered them. Awoken but with addled memories, the Grand Director and Scourge had been manipulated into fighting for a twisted version of the American dream. “He chose to die rather than return to being your puppet. So would I.”
“Every second I waste here is another second I’m not after your boy.” USAgent rushed forward, enraged. The way he’d been raised, the values he’d been taught, by rights the Great American should have counted him an ally. But some men, for all their thoughts and talk, turn out to be cowards when the time comes to act. USAgent was never willing to stand for anything.
He made as though running forward to meet USAgent, but at the last moment the Great American pivoted to the side. Faster than the Great American, USAgent’s speed proved a liability when he tried to brake. His foot caught on the Great American’s and so he pitched forward. He’d recover but not too quickly, and those extra seconds would be crucial as the Great America threw his shield at Nomad.
With a laugh, Nomad grabbed the shield easily, while hurling a stun disc at the Great American. As he made a spinning leap into the air, Rogers pressed a stud on his glove. The stun disc was caught by a flying roundhouse kick and send hurtling back at Nomad. The young hero may had brought down the shield to deflect it, but that stud had activated a brief surge of electricity. Nomad’s physiology made it little more than a shock, but he did drop the shield just before the stun disc connected with his bared chest.
In a smooth motion, the Great American scooped up his shield and kicked Nomad in the face. USAgent was already up and giving chase, but now he and Nomad were on the wrong side of the tunnel. The Great American pulled an explosive charge and threw it at the ceiling.
The explosion was minor, but the effect was tremendous. That section of tunnel collapsed over Nomad and USAgent, burying them under an avalanche of debris. The Great American paused to admire the handiwork and gloat.
“I hope the two of you survive this. That we dig out your battered but breathing bodies. Turning your malleable minds over to my way of thinking, that’ll be so gratifying.”
# # # # #
The farther into the tunnel Snapper flew, the more of a maze it became. Passages opened, caverns loomed, and every curve seemed to become two or three splits. But all the way, he seemed to know exactly where he was going, as though a voice called to him. Snapper suspected way, and he made sure to drop markers should the Great American be following.
To me, my brother of color.
There was no voice, no sound, merely the words in Snapper’s head that he knew weren’t his. The path on which he was guided sloped up, and he knew the door he found at the end of that passage wasn’t locked. Flipping his body mid-flight, Snapper crashed against the wooden door feet first and it burst open. He found himself in a second church, much larger than the first. But instead of a make-shift hospital this was very much meant to be a church, all the pews and icons in place.
Sitting in the center aisle, directly before the alter was an old man. He looked almost like a doll in the wheelchair, so small and frail he was. Not a wisp of hair was on that withered head, the skull clearly outlined under that stretched skin that had such a slight reddish tint. Snapper knew this man, had had his life changed by this man and the ultimate power he so briefly held.
“The Red-Blooded.” It came out like a curse past Snapper’s lips.
The old man gave a faint sigh. “Please, Sam, you could I prefer Johann Schmidt. That name, it was a response to the Nazi’s and their divisiveness. For all our differences, we all bleed red. Even you and I, despite all that had happened. You used to be such a nice man, so driven to help before my mistake.”
“That wasn’t no mistake, old man.” The memory of who he’d been brought a grimace to Snapper’s lips. “That was my pop, the preacher slaving away while I saw the world for what it is. Yeah, when he died it messed me up something fierce, made me think of helping my fellow man. Then you reminded me of who I really was.”
“I tried to give you the power to help me help others,” Johann said. “I asked you to be the man you always knew you were. A pity I didn’t know who you used to be.”
“Except I’m not who I used to be!” Snapper’s artificial wings loomed large. “I’m still helping, only now I know how to do it best! With power and violence, with enough gas in the room a match will blow the whole building to hell.”
“You know that Rogers wants you and all he sees as your kind to burn. I still fail to understand how a man such as yourself would fall in lockstep behind him.”
“Because what you protect is a world of small slights,” was Snapper’s answer. “Death by a thousand cuts is death before you know it, and tolerable for most. Hell, it’s all they’ve known. But the Great American ass, he’s not about the little cuts. He wants the return of whips and bent backs. That’ll end the tolerance, and sure he may suppress the first riots and maybe those after, but soon even he’ll be worn down. And that, that is when the system gets torn down.”
“After how much death and destruction, who would be left to rebuild?” asked Johann.
Snapper pulled the knife from his belt. “It sure as hell won’t be you!”
Before he could take a step toward the old man, a shadow moved from the pews beside Snapper. He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and took to the air, intending to avoid the tackle. But much to Snapper’s surprise, the gaunt figure dressed reminiscent of a bat also took to the air.
“Baron Blood!” A slash of his knife should have kept Snapper’s personal space from being invaded. But the vampire’s reflexes were super-human, and he grabbed Snapper’s wrist with a strength that threatened to break it.
“Don’t call me that!” Baron Blood had been the envious brother who’d tried to hunt a monster and instead became one. Baron Blood had sided with Germany for a quick end to a brutal war, but refused to join the later Reich who then imprisoned him. It was Lord Falsworth who pushed at Snapper, right through a stained glass window and out of the church.
“I have a chance,” Johann said out loud. Seeing movement beyond the trap door, he continued. “Lord Falsworth tries to avoid death, but in conflict his base instincts take over. You friend may not survive.”
“That boy isn’t my friend.” The Great American emerged to face his oldest enemy. “It may be that you did me a favor. Eventually I would have to do the deed myself.”
“Like you did with my friends, Barons Zemo and Strucker. Perhaps I could have held out longer, but I’m an old man, and tired.”
Lacking his gun and knife, the Great American could have thrown his shield, and relished the thought of that bastards head coming off. But he wanted to feel it up close, and so walked forward. “When you’re dead, they’ll be no one left to stop me. Everyone else has either fallen, or soon will.”
“That is where you’re wrong.” Johann smiled, showing a number of missing teeth. One had been more recent. “She wouldn’t have been my first choice, or even my second. Her views and methods may be what’s necessary, but the cost…as I said, I am old and tired.”
“No!” The old man slumped forward as the Great American was only a few feet away. He crossed the distance with a final great leap and hefted the already-dead body with one hand. “Damn you, it should have been me!”
The body was hurled against the pews. The Great American was on it immediately, smashing and pulping with shield and fists. What he’d dreamed of for years, but it was worthless without a victim to feel pain. “It should have me to end you!”
The dart wasn’t felt at first. With the way the Great American’s blood was pumping, the effects were almost immediately. His legs gave out, and while he tried to grab a pew for support, it didn’t matter when his arms also gave out.
She emerged from a hidden alcove, the dart gun tucked back into her belt. The Great American was still able to see, and what he saw was a woman dressed in a bodysuit of all colors, like a rainbow. Her long dark hair covered the left side of her face, but what features he saw were beautiful. She approached him with confidence.
“Don’t worry, coward. Your constitution will survive the poison, I’m not the sort to murder a helpless opponent.” She was almost close enough to grab by the neck. “This is more of an introduction. You may call me Madame Hydra.”
“Hy…” He tried to speak, but the Great American couldn’t get the words out.
“Surely you’ve heard of the beast from Greek myth. One body, ruled by many heads. Much like this country, a republic of states that you try to tear down. Along with chemistry, I’m quite the student of myths, from the earliest pagan tales to the more recent cults. There’s a truth behind each of them, and it’s important to understand that truth in order to best fight it.”
When she looked at what remained of Johann Schmidt, there was no emotion in Madame Hydra’s face. Nor when she met the Great American’s eyes. Only cold, logical study.
“For instance, yours is a cult of personality, gathered around your ideas of greatness. When your followers find you helpless, you’ll try to explain it away. He tried to cheat with toxins, but you overcame that and beat him with your great power. But I know the lie, and you know the lie.”
Madame Hydra took a step back and pulled a vial from her belt. The Great American saw it contained a white substance, and dismissed his first thought of what it could be.
“This cocaine has been altered on a molecular level,” Madame Hydra explained. “The reason for delaying you was to have the supply removed for distribution. Those who take this will be similarly altered, but not right away. The results won’t be seen for months, and the truth will be laid bare.”
Madame Hydra turned to leave, but not without parting words. “It’s some of what I injected you with.”
Be sure to keep a lookout for more Great American in the future!