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New York City
The Mansion
“Target is moving for the southwest annex. All points converge.”
From his cocoon of monitoring equipment, he could keep tabs not only on his entire team in the field, but on most of the high priority marks around the globe. Located in the heart of the team’s headquarters in New York City, a technological nerve center housing prized scientific achievements that could revolutionize the planet, or destroy it, he could coordinate the most powerful people on the planet.
Having these kinds of resources at his fingertips, it was no surprise that there were those in Washington that wanted to register and control his squad. The government had tried and failed, of course,* and he liked to think that he and his friends had proven themselves by this point.
* [Check out last year’s incredible Cold War event and tie-ins for all the details!]
Still, it stood to reason that a group calling itself The Mighty Masters needed to be kept in some sort of confidence. For their leader, who carefully watched and guided their actions from Masters Mansion, that meant sharing his monitor feed during active operations.
“I assume you’re getting all of this, Creed?” Captain Helmut J. Zemo inquired.
In the corner of the main screen, which took up most of the wall, the bobbing head of a brown-haired nodded his affirmation. “Yes, Zemo. For the record, I’d like to reiterate the Commission’s concerns about sending your heavy hitters to bring in Trickshot and his accomplice.”
While Zemo didn’t trust Creed, he could respect what the man was doing. A government watchdog. He said he was on the Masters’ side, but Zemo knew that he was in the President’s pocket. Their team’s circle overlapped with Creed’s, but he wasn’t completely in with them.
Circles within circles.
Zemo smirked. “Acknowledged. Although, as before, I can assure you that only the appropriate amount of force will be applied. He’s a murderer, Creed, and one of Interpol’s most wanted. We have to take him as a serious threat.”
Turning his attention back to his team on the main screen, Zemo watched one of the deadliest men in the world, and one of his best assets, slide into position on a terrace in the courtyard. Using the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s own security cameras, Zemo tracked their target suspect through the southwest annex and out into an open courtyard.
Zemo had studied Clint Barton, also known as Trickshot, over the years. They had bashed heads multiple times and he could speak to the master archer’s lethal abilities personally. Whether he was leading the Circus of Crime or running errands for the Great American and his ragtag group of Revengers, Trickshot could always be counted on to have something up his sleeve.
On the screen, he saw Trickshot, dressed in his signature purple tunic, quickly scan the courtyard. Locking his sights onto a stone gargoyle that peaked out over the lip of a terrace, Trickshot expertly extracted a specific arrow from his quiver and took aim.
“He’s headed for the roof,” Zemo said. “As predicted, he’s pinpointing your exact location. Take him now.”
Trickshot’s arrow sprang out and embedded itself into the gargoyle, trailing a thin but strong zip line behind it. The villain ran forward, connecting the line to his bow, and slapped the wench motor at the center. As the line shortened, he gained speed and then leapt, using the momentum and the motor’s pull to haul him up to the terrace.
“Moving to intercept,” the first of two Masters on the scene said into the communication link.
Halfway up, however, the hidden Master stood and revealed his position. With precision, Taskmaster unsheathed his sword, leaned over the terrace, and severed Trickshot’s line. The archer, surprised, but not without his faculties, quickly let three arrows fly directly for Taskmaster’s head as he fell.
Despite Trickshot’s mastery over the projectiles, Taskmaster’s reflexes were the keenest that the world had ever known. Thanks to an adrenal steroid that unlocked his mind’s full procedural memory potential, Taskmaster could duplicate the muscle movements of the greatest athletes and combatants in history. Having gone toe-to-toe with the legendary Dragon Fist, the martial arts master Shang-Chi, and even the Great American himself, Taskmaster’s photographic reflexes made it near impossible to strike a hit on him. With ease, he dodged two of the arrows and struck down the third with his sword.
Trickshot was prepared to land on his feet and pump his inertia into a forward somersault. He had only made it about twenty feet off the ground before losing his line, so he was sure he wasn’t in danger of spraining his ankles. His time spent with the Circus of Crime and their tumbling professionals had rubbed off on him. From there he would break into a run and find another exit.
Thanks to the second Master present, however, he never got the chance.
“I’ve got him,” a strong, feminine voice spoke through the speakers in the monitor room.
Zemo smiled as he saw the silver streak called Moonstone fly down into the open courtyard, catch Trickshot, and rocket him back up into the air again. Zemo knew that Trickshot could struggle as much as he wanted, but even if he could break the full nelson hold as he was propelled upward, he definitely wouldn’t stand a chance against her Kree gravity stone-enhanced strength.
The gravity stone had bonded to Moonstone’s nervous system years ago, instantly making her one of the most powerful people on the planet. Aside from the ability to fly and her enhanced strength, she could also become intangible and unleash incredible photonic energy. She was undoubtedly one of the most stalwart members of Zemo’s team, and in his personal opinion, the most stunning.
“Excellent,” Zemo said. “Be prepared for—”
A white baton, about a foot in length, struck Moonstone in the temple. The baton fell clattering back down to the courtyard, and Moonstone, despite her resolve, loosened her grip on her captive.
Trickshot took advantage of her temporary dizziness to slip one arm free, which he slid behind her head and pulled downward as he curled his body and drove his knee up. His armored kneecap slammed into her face, causing her nose to gush blood. In reaction to the dual shock, she completely released Trickshot.
Once more in freefall, he deftly launched another arrow, this time directly below him. It struck the roof and the head exploded. The liquid contents of the arrow head, when exposed to air, rapidly expanded and hardened. Within seconds a plasmatic cushion formed underneath Trickshot, which caught him like a pillow. He bounded once and then landed on his feet, taking off in a run across the roof.
“Damn!” Zemo shouted. “Mockingbird is hiding around there somewhere. Target is headed for the southern corner.”
“Do not let that man escape, Zemo,” Creed said from his tiny window. “He is a priority suspect that the Commission will—”
Zemo muted Creed, annoyed by the man’s arrogance. He needed to concentrate; to focus. He had ran a strategic simulation of this operation three times. He knew that Mockingbird would be in the area, but had wrongfully assumed that she would assist with Trickshot’s exfiltration from outside the museum. The angle of her baton toss, however, indicated that she was somewhere inside.
“Taskmaster,” Zemo said into the comm. “Move to your secondary position.”
“Are you sure?” the expert field operative replied. “I can still catch Barton.”
“Barton will head for the subway line. My algorithms all agree. I’ll have someone else pick him up. Right now I need you in secondary position to head off Mockingbird.”
Zemo could see the reluctance in his body language via the security feed. He imagined what kinds of thoughts were running through Taskmaster’s head in that moment. It had been no easy accomplishment to get the incredible specimen to join his team, as Taskmaster much preferred to operative alone. Still, the promise of making some real positive changes in the world, and capturing the ones that always alluded him, had persuaded him.
Ultimately, just as Zemo knew he would, Taskmaster complied with the order. He slipped back up to the rooftop and sprinted along the spine of the tiles, carefully lining up his positioning. When he reached the end of the rooftop he lunged out, grabbing a flagpole and sliding down until he reached the northeast corner of the courtyard.
From there he could get to virtually any corridor within minutes. Multiple hallways and entry points overlapped this particular segment of the museum, to which Taskmaster took full advantage. Zemo had carefully pinpointed three specific positions for both him and Moonstone, each one to assigned to accommodate an expected scenario. It was true that Zemo hadn’t anticipated Mockingbird already being inside the museum, but they could adjust for variables. That was why he always had multiple plans moving in a symphony of orchestrated control.
Taskmaster ran between two pillars and through an entryway that brought him into a great hall, filled with marble statues from a forgotten era. His gaze swept the room and, seeing no one present, he turned around and jumped straight up, grabbing the stone ridge that lined the inside of that particular entrance. He hauled himself up and for the second time settled into a perch of sorts, using his precise balance to remain perfectly still with only a two inch wide molding to support him.
Zemo scanned the monitor feed, searching for his target. He glanced at one showing Trickshot’s position and chose to ignore the criminal as he was moving in his predicted manner. Then, a flutter of motion in the feed displaying the courtyard’s northeast corner.
“Got her,” he said. “Taskmaster, on my mark. Three. Two. One. Mark.”
Taskmaster simply shifted his center of gravity forward and he fell directly on top of Mockingbird, instantly stunning her. She hit the floor in a heap and Taskmaster’s knees dug into her back, right between the shoulder blades, pinning her. Within seconds Taskmaster had her hands behind her back and locked in wrist-ties that Zemo had designed himself. They were strong enough that even Titania had to concentrate on breaking them.
“Good work, team,” Zemo said, turning his attention to the other feeds. “Moonstone, report in. Are you hurt?”
“Just my pride,” she responded as he saw her float over the courtyard. “Where’s Barton?”
A new voice entered the conversation, this one metallic but smooth, saying, “The archer has been apprehended.”
Zemo smiled. Ultron, the most sophisticated automaton in existence, flew toward Moonstone on the monitor, Trickshot in hand. His silver sheen hadn’t even been smudged when picking up the archer as he predictably headed for the subway to escape. Zemo had Ultron on semi-reserve while he (or it, Zemo never knew which pronoun to use) was giving an interview at the nearby Daily Trumpet building.
Plans within plans.
Circles within circles.
“Thanks for the assist,” Moonstone said as Zemo watched Ultron approach her midair on the monitor. “Did he happen to mention what he was after this time?”
“He has pled the fifth amendment,” Ultron replied. “Although, I certainly doubt that will keep us from learning his goal after we review the security footage.”
“Cough it up, archer,” Moonstone said. “Save us the trouble, just this once, okay?”
“Bite me,” Clint Barton shot back with a sneer.
Trickshot hung from Ultron’s fingers like a sad child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Ultron raised him up to eye level and spun him so that they were staring at each other. The automaton’s burning red optic sensors flashed.
“Even I know that you should be polite to a lady,” Ultron said. “And I’m not even human.”
“Stuff it, tin man,” the archer spat out. “I don’t need any of your self-righte-HEY!”
Ultron had let three of the four fingers pulling on Trickshot’s tunic slip free, which didn’t go unnoticed by the criminal. From this height, and now liberated from his bow and quiver, he wouldn’t be bouncing back on his feet anytime soon.
“Apologize,” Ultron said. It was a command, but the robot’s voice never wavered from its usual mellow melody.
“You wouldn’t-OKAY! OKAY! I’m…I’m sorry, okay? God!”
Zemo cut their audio when he saw Taskmaster dragging Mockingbird back into the courtyard to join the others. Her black and white outfit was torn in several places and he was surprised to see that Taskmaster’s hood had slid off. While a minor detail to most, who might even chalk it up to the man exerting himself slightly or the wind catching him at the right angle, Zemo knew this meant that Mockingbird had given him quite a struggle.
“You satisfied, Creed?” Zemo asked as he enlarged the Commission man’s screen.
“I am. Get them into Damage Control custody and I’ll be even more satisfied.”
With a nod, Zemo ended their exchange and closed off all monitor feeds. The weight of handling the mission suddenly hit him and he felt tired. His back, legs, and feet all begged him to simply sit down, and maybe he would this time.
Instead, he swapped out the dead feeds for the museum security footage from before they had taken control of the situation, hoping to find out exactly what Trickshot and Mockingbird were after. They had come in once the silent alarm had been tripped, which was sloppy on Trickshot’s part, and didn’t have all of the information they needed. Zemo wanted to know what they were after and if they were working alone.
“No rest for the weary?” a voice behind him said.
Zemo nearly jumped, but he was trained to expect the unexpected, as silly as it sounded. Still, the sudden arrival from the one Master that he could never fully anticipate knocked him off his guard. He always felt a little odd when around Loki, self-proclaimed Norse god.
As casually as possible, Zemo looked over his shoulder to see the delightful scoundrel leaning against the system’s memory banks, eating an apple. As per usual, he was smiling, and also as per usual, he wasn’t alone. Loki was rarely without a woman nearby.
“I told you the Captain hates it when you sneak up on him,” Titania whispered. Standing upright and facing Zemo, but not making eye contact, she shouted, “Loki and Titania, reporting in, sir.”
“At ease,” Zemo replied with an air of guilt. He saw Loki suppress a laugh. Zemo had personally recruited Titania to the Masters a month ago and had since realized that he had come on a little strong. His speech on joining the ranks of the elite heroes of the world might have been overkill, in retrospect.
“The Bifrost remains intact,” Titania reported. “Although a few trolls can’t say the same. Sir.”
Loki winked at Zemo and then stepped out from behind Titania. His sheepskin cloak billowed behind him, making him every bit of the master of magical tricks that he actually was. Zemo believed in magic well enough; he had seen some amazing things conjured before. Whether or not Loki was an actual god or some alien with delusions of grandeur he had yet to determine.
“Despite my brother’s efforts,” Loki added, “the Rainbow Bridge remains open to us. Given the current state of Asgard these days, that is truly a miracle.”
“Good,” Zemo replied as he turned back to his feeds. “The Bifrost has proven to be useful to us in the past, such as when Ultron was rendered inert by Richards and his showboating family.* I was more than a little concerned when your spies brought us word that your brother was looking to overrun the bridge with his trolls, Loki.”
* [You have to go waaay back to West Coast Masters #2 for that one!]
Loki sighed. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I can see the reasoning behind Thor’s motivations. His best quality has always been his bullheaded strength. By seeking to simply overpower our control of the Bifrost he could cut me off from Asgard completely. And, oh, how the bar maidens would weep!”
Loki tossed a glance back at Titania at this last statement, making her blush. For all of Loki’s qualms, there was no arguing his right to be on the team of the world’s most powerful heroes. Time and again he had thwarted by brother’s plans to not only rule Asgard, but to invade Midgard (or Earth, as the locals referred to it). His mastery over the magical nature of his own realm, combined with his silver tongue and adventurous attitude, made him a formidable opponent.
That silver tongue had obviously made an impression on their newest recruit. Zemo cleared his throat as he eyed Titania, who was arguably one of the strongest people on the planet. She had stood up against Ben Grimm and his Yancy Street thugs all on her own, which was really saying something. Despite her nearly unbreakable skin and her bulging mucles, Titania still seemed to harbor every bit of the shrinking violet she had once been. As Mary MacPherran she had been a scrawny and hopeless introvert. After Victor van Damme had transferred her into the next generation of hero, Mary finally gained the acceptance and power she desired, choosing to live up to her newfound potential by accepting Zemo’s invitation to join the Masters.
“Anything to get us further out from under the thumb of Creed and his Commission on Superhuman Activities,” Zemo said as he continued to focus once more. He nearly had the footage where he wanted it. “Did I tell you that he’s made it so we have to lease our own quinjets? Insanity.”
Loki tossed his apple core into a nearby receptacle and bowed dramatically. “At the behest of myself and my lovely companion, the Bifrost will continue to serve as an extradimensional mode of transport, should we need it.”
“My thanks, Loki,” Zemo began to say, but something on the screen cut him off. Noticing his hesitation, and slightly irritated that something had pulled away from being bathed in appreciation, Loki stood to his full height and traced Zemo’s gaze to the screen.
The feed had caught Trickshot coming out of the Arthurian Hall, this mere moments before entering the nearby courtyard and having his escape route cut off, literally, by Taskmaster. Zemo knew full well that the Arthurian Hall contained not only a number of priceless artifacts, but several legitimately magical items. It was a specific point of contention between Loki himself and the curators, stating that items of legend, whether they were inert or not, could be empowered again should popular opinion choose it to be so.
The idea was that the more societal belief was rooted in the conceptualization of something, perhaps a talisman or even a deity, the more power that something would gain. Hercules walked among modern day man, and per Loki it was thanks in no small part to his continued iconic stories of ruthlessness. The sharing of those stories, now forever engraved in Hollywood’s vault, gave him virtual immortality.
It was the same for objects of power. Over many a pint of ale, Loki had argued the danger of even allowing a museum to exist at all. Shove enough people in front of what the museum claimed was Excalibur and the mythical sword could theoretically become enchanted again.
Zemo quickly pulled the feed back to just before Barton had entered the Arthurian Hall. He saw the fabled sword, shoved into a fiberglass boulder. Also among the curated items were a set of golden armor that Arthur had supposedly worn, a stuffed Pegasus, a replica of Morgan Le Fay’s laboratory, the tome collecting Merlin’s delusional rituals, and various other bobbles. Ever since the discovery of the Isle of Avalon decades back, people had become fascinated with King Arthur and his horrific deeds once more. Today, however, it seemed that the hall was virtually empty.
Save for Trickshot, who entered through an air vent in the corner of the great room. Zemo, Loki, and Titania watched the replay of Trickshot slipping down into the hall and carefully making his way through the displays.
After a few dozen meters, he paused, looking up at the wax statue of King Arthur. Fluid as water, Trickshot ripped an arrow free from his quiver, mounted it on his bow string, and let it fly at the statue. The tip of the arrow jammed into a jewel on the necklace that the dummy wore, chipping it out of its setting and flinging it up into the air. Trickshot casually caught the gemstone and then made his exit from the hall toward the courtyard.
“What was it?” Loki inquired, his voice sounding desperate. “What did he grab?”
“Checking the museum’s inventory files now,” Zemo said as his fingers danced across the work station keys. “Whatever it was, Ultron would have secured it after grabbing Barton.”
Titania stepped in beside Zemo, opening the communication channel to their teammates again. “Ultron, are you there?”
The mechanical voice replied, “I have just deposited Trickshot with the local authorities, Titania. How can I assist you?”
“Oh, you’re quick. I mean, I’m sure you took the necessary precaution. I didn’t mean that you were reckless. I mean, not that you could be reckless—”
“Ask him, woman!” Loki spat out. His eyes were looking back and forth between Zemo’s search of the museum records and Titania’s panel.
“Did you happen to search Trickshot before you, you know, deposited him?”
“Of course. I will never understand you biologicals and your need for constant connection to the world wide web. I removed five separate devices from Trickshot that would enable him to communicate via cyberspace. With all of this precious nature constantly swirling around you, why would you not—”
“He’s bloody ranting again, and I hate it when he calls us ‘biologicals’,” Loki murmured just before he shoved himself in front of Titania and shouted into the microphone, “Ultron! Did you find the item he stole from the museum or not? It looks on our end like he took a gemstone of some kind from the Arthurian Hall.”
A pause, and then Ultron replied, “I found no such stone, or gem of any kind, on his person.”
Titania said, “He could have stashed it in the museum somewhere so he could retrieve it later.”
“Any footage of him getting close to someone prior to getting into the courtyard?” Loki inquired.
“Negative,” Zemo replied. “The hall spills directly into the courtyard. He’s not out of view for a single frame.”
“So, if he didn’t hide it somewhere,” Titania said, “and he didn’t pass it off to someone…”
“And he didn’t keep it…,” Loki added.
“Then where the hell is it?” Zemo finished for their collective.
BOOM!
Sensors began to flash and alarms balred, but it was too late. A massive hole had been punched into the mansion ceiling, despite the reinforcements that Abner Jenkins himself had designed and installed.
Debris fell onto Zemo, Loki, and Titania, each of whom instinctively threw themselves clear in time. Despite the element of surprise, the three trained Masters were more than prepared to take on whoever dared to assault them in their own home.
Zemo was the first back on his feet, springing up and grabbing his sword, which was never far from his side. An expert swordsman, he unsheathed the blade and gripped it tightly, ready to fight back.
Loki coughed once and accepted Titania’s proffered hand. She pulled him back up and his hands began to glow an eerie blue as he began to summon his illusionary magic. Titania likewise cracked her knuckles, ready to brawl until her teammates were safe from harm again.
They looked upward to see the tip of a crimson boot poke over the edge, and a split-second later the rest of the figure stepped into the view, looking down at them through the hole he had just created.
Zemo traced the red boot up along the silver and red costume, briefly focusing on the star at the center as he always did, before fixating on his enemy’s face. It was a face that haunted him. Time and again, despite watching him die at the hands of his own soldiers, despite being captured and imprisoned on three different continents, and despite the march of time itself, here once more stood one of the Masters’ greatest foes.
“Rogers,” Zemo muttered.
The Great American half-smiled at them. Strapped to his left arm was his damned indestructible shield, a tool for defense according to most, but in the hands of Steve Rogers, a formable weapon. Its silver and red circular pattern matched his uniform, the same uniform that marked a person a traitor to their country and placed them in league with those that would seek to overthrow democracy with chaos. Zemo couldn’t even begin to count the number of impressionable soldiers that Rogers had duped into wearing his colors into battle. Even though he had been defeated time and again, somehow the Great American was able to raise an army to carry out his plans.
“By now you’re wondering just what exactly you’re caught in the middle of,” the Great American stated. “Always playing catch-up, Masters. Isn’t that right, Helmut?”
“What is it this time, Rogers?” Zemo demanded. He was careful to remain aware of his surroundings and not be drawn in by the Great American’s tendency to spout rhetoric as a distraction. “Have you come to dangle your strategic genius over us again? Come to tell us how you’ll finally win?”
The Great American laughed. “No, not this time. This time…” Steve Rogers plucked something from his belt and held it aloft for them to see. A shimmering stone, its radiance nearly blinding the three heroes beneath, was held between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve already won.”
Zemo shouted, “Masters; mobilize!”
Titania reactively bent her knees and then pounced up, her incredible strength shooting her like a rocket toward the Great American. To aid in her ascent, Loki quickly conjured an illusion of a huge snake slithering along the ceiling, which curled up through the hole that the Great American had somehow punctured into their rooftop.
Attuned to Loki’s mischief, the Great American ignored the false-snake, instead focusing his concentration on the gemstone between his fingers. A searing blast of white energy erupted from the stone, slamming into Titania and forcing her back into the mansion. She crashed into the flooring and kept going, punching through two more floors until she finally stopped. Wisps of ethereal energy entangled her, keeping her from rising again if she was even able.
Turning the stone’s power to the giant snake hissing beside him, the same energy wave washed over Loki’s illusion, dissipating it. With another quick blast, Loki was hit, but instead of being driven down like his teammate, he was pushed along the floor until he slammed into the monitor console.
Zemo launched his sword at the Great American, aiming for the gemstone. His precise aim would dislodge it from his enemy’s grasp and they could buy some time to deal with the assault.
…had not a familiar, glowing, ionic hand grasped the sword out of midair.
The cascade of purple and black energy spilling off of Simon Williams’ form was instantly recognizable to Zemo, and seeing the villain that called himself Wonder Man made his stomach drop. Not only was Simon Williams a force to be reckoned with on his own, but if Wonder Man was here, it meant that the Great American had once more reformed his savage Revengers.
Sure enough, the feline Tigra slinked to the edge of the hole and looked ready to pounce. Her deadly claws had ravaged Zemo more than once and he still had the scars to prove it. She was a mistress of primal combat, with natural instincts that enabled her to conquer any man, which she did gratefully and on a regular basis. She was known to take lovers and shred them to bits when she was through with her fun.
As the Great American’s agent, Tigra was his second in command while in the field. Her tactics, like her, were brutal and relentless.
On the opposite side of Wonder Man, adjacent to Tigra, now stood the shadowy agent of discord, the Void. Cloaked in a trenchcoat of darkness and wearing a black, wide-brimmed hat, the only visible aspect of him was his eerie face. Contorted by his own powers, the Void’s personality was a dark as his exterior. Strands of what he called his infini-tendrils swarmed around him, ready to engulf any who opposed him.
Simon smirked at Zemo. “Bring a knife to a gun fight,” Wonder Man said. “That sounds just like you, Zemo. Always ill-prepared. When are you going to submit to your betters?”
“Show me my betters and we’ll talk,” Zemo responded coldly.
“You see, Helmut,” the Great American said as he suddenly levitated and lowered himself down into the mansion. The power of the gem seemed to swim up his arm and evaporate, alluding to his control of its power, which apparently now granted him flight. “Wonder Man here is correct, in a sense. You are ill-prepared. This time, there is no way for you stop me, because this time I’ve discovered something far better to conquer than your precious country and you’ll be dead before you even begin to fathom my meaning.”
Zemo knew that he had to keep Rogers talking if he had any hope of making it out of this alive. He watched the Great American descend, still holding the gemstone. Wonder Man likewise came into the mansion, although he hovered closer to the hole in the ceiling with his arms crossed over his chest, making sure to give his leader space.
“Try me, Rogers,” Zemo said.
The Great American scoffed. “Do you even know what this is?” he asked, holding the gem forward slightly. “It is a fragment of an even more powerful relic called the Evil Eye. It’s said to be so powerful that even a sliver of it granted King Arthur the strength to rule Camelot by force, and with it, all of Avalon.”
“The display in the museum—”
“Was real; quite right. It took coercing Hank Pym and his G.I. Ant-Men into using his precarious time table to gain the necessary information, but in the end it was worth it.”
“How did you even get it from Trickshot?” Zemo inquired.
“Barton is useful in some instances,” the Great American replied. “But he rarely grasps the opportunities right in front of him. I ordered him to collect the gem and use its own power to teleport it directly to me. As soon as he had it in his hand, literally a second later it was in mine.”
“We’ve tangled enough times for you to know that some little stone isn’t going to be enough to defeat the Masters, Rogers,” Zemo countered.
“Yes, yes. Indeed.” The Great American plucked something else from his belt. “That’s why I went and collected the other fragments.”
The Great American opened his palm to show a larger stone, which looked exactly like the smaller one between his fingers. With obvious glee, Rogers slapped the Arthurian fragment of the Evil Eye into place with its brothers, generating an explosive wave of energy that pushed them all back a few feet.
When Zemo looked again he saw Rogers glowing and holding aloft not a rejoined rock, but a lens. A nearly deafening hum filled the room. “The reformed Evil Eye has mastery over matter, can project its power, and even open gateways to other worlds!” shouted Rogers. “You see, Helmut? You and your Masters are no longer a concern to me because in a moment I’ll use the Eye to wipe you from our history, and then I’ll travel to a new dimension where I’ll easily rule over an unsuspecting populace! A dimension where you and your heroic friends never opted to fight the good fight!”
Behind him, Wonder Man shielded his eyes from the increasing power of the Evil Eye. His normally solid ionic form almost seemed unable to keep itself bound in the presence of such power as tangents of ionic energy seeped away from him.
The Great American lowered the lens, aiming it at Zemo. With nothing other than pure menace on his face, Rogers said, “Now, Helmut. I’ll finally purge myself of you and humiliate your legacy by recruiting your mirror likeness.”
“Think again!”
The Great American looked up just in time to see Moonstone soaring directly for him, descending from the sky like a targeted missile. Her gravity manipulation abilities propelled her at an alarming rate as she dropped down onto Rogers like a bomb, forcing him down into the mansion.
The thunderous crack of their crash-landing shook the foundations, but not missing a beat, Wonder Man dove down into the fray. The Great American had managed to get his shield between himself and Moonstone, who was pummeling the indestructible disc with nearly everything she had. Wonder Man gripped her by the shoulder, spun her, and landed a haymaker that sent her flying back into the mansion. Without so much as a look at his leader he gave chase.
Zemo quickly reclaimed his dropped sword and lunged for Rogers, slamming his blade down against the villain’s shield. “Give up!” Zemo shouted as they traded blows. “The other Masters have heeded the call! You won’t get out of this.”
“On the contrary,” the Great American replied. “As I stated before; I’ve already won!”
A blast from the lens ripped into Zemo, catapulting him backward. He was caught by Loki, who had regained his footing and had conjured a cushion for Zemo to land safely in. The son of Asgard ground his teeth and cast another spell, this one packed with concussive force, launching it at the Great American.
But a thousand black tendrils dropped in front of Rogers, creating a curtain that absorbed the force of Loki’s play. Loki looked up to see the snarling Void drop down, his tendrils lashing forward to slice into him. Loki deftly tumbled between slashes of the tendrils, springing upright and casting another force spell, which was in turn cut down by the Void’s strange abilities.
“You will not keep me from my other self,” the Void spat out. When he spoke, his voice sounded like a choir of tortured souls speaking all at once. “I have seen the other world promised to us, and I have seen the heroic bastard that wears my face there. I will consume him and you won’t stop us!”
The pair clashed, trading nimbleness for outright audacious affronts of aggression. For every strike Loki threw, the Void countered and came back once more.
The Great American stood to his full height and Tigra leapt down to join him. She claws traced the contours of his wide chest, pausing at the white star in the center. She curled her tail around his leg and looked up into his masked eyes, saying, “Finish them now, my commander.”
Cupping her chin in his hand, Rogers replied, “Were it not for your cat-like cunning, I would take you as my consort. Can you be trusted enough to accompany me to greatness?”
She purred. “Have I not always been loyal?”
Before the Great American could reply, the floor beneath them rumbled. A hand shot through the tiles, tightly gripping Tigra, and then yanking her back down through a fresh opening. The Great American flipped back so as not to fall downward beside Tigra, now seeing that a renewed Titania had pulled her straight through the floor down one level.
Watching Tigra snarl and avoid the pummeling fists of the Master, the Great American scoffed once more and said, “Alone then.”
He held the lens high overhead, basking in its power. It felt warm and welcoming, as if the power knew that it had a new skillful controller. Perhaps the shards were waiting to be reformed and taken up by someone with a strong enough will to do something incredible.
In his peripheral vision he saw Zemo came at him again, sword in hand. Bending the light around him, the Great American created a dome-shaped force field to repel Zemo’s slashes. Try as he might, Zemo could not cut through the newly created shielding.
“Now, Helmut,” the Great American shouted over the rupturing power of the Eye, “The Eye is ready. I can feel it! It took a moment for the shards to reconnect, but now that the lens is fully prepared, I will leave you behind to take my rightful place. I would say that you can bear witness to my ascent to the throne of an entire neighboring world, but you and your fellow Masters will soon be nothing more than a memory.”
The dome filled with white light, which quickly enveloped them all. The last thing Zemo saw was his enemy laughing.
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
“Next time Moonstone hits the sound barrier when I’m beside her, I’m sending her my doctor’s bill for tinnitus.”
High above the mansion, both Ultron and Taskmaster rocketed toward their headquarters to heed the call to mobilize, Ultron propelled by his own propulsion system and Taskmaster by his skycycle. The pair flew side by side and tried to match the same trajectory as Moonstone only moments ago. Having finished their business with the authorities at the museum, they were eager to aid Zemo and the others.
“She is concerned for our comrades,” Ultron replied. “My own concern also grows. I still cannot connect with the mansion’s security systems to learn what has happened.”
“We’ll have to move fast in order to—WHOA!”
A pillar of white energy erupted from the center of the mansion, raising enormous amounts of power up into the sky. The clouds spit apart and a vortex soon formed, spinning furiously over the entire city. Static electricity seemed to dangle from the contours of the vortex as the clouds that had been shoved aside were now sucked up into the maelstrom.
Pulling back on his skycycle, Taskmaster hovered in midair to try and assess the situation. Ultron swung back around to join him in staring at the surprising power flow emanating from their headquarters.
“My scanners are detecting alarming volumes of tachyons and contra-energy,” Ultron said. “It would seem that someone has opened a portal to another dimension over New York City.”
Taskmaster glanced down at the mansion and ripped one of his machine pistols from its holster. “Let’s go introduce ourselves,” he said.
The pair didn’t get more than a few dozen meters closer before the white pillar started to spread, and within moments they too were captured in its warm grasp. Taskmaster shouted a guttural battle cry as he was consumed and Ultron tried to transmit his consciousness back to his reclusive jungle home, but the energy overtook them completely.
As the energy continued to spread, soon the entire city fell victim to its embrace. Some died instantly from the sudden shock of being dislodged from their own dimension. Others revered its strange beauty, mistaking it for a sign from the heavens. Still more tried to flee, but were climactically caught, unable to run far enough to elude its pull.
And at the center of it all was the crazed villain who dreamt of dominating not one world, but two…
The Mansion
“Target is moving for the southwest annex. All points converge.”
From his cocoon of monitoring equipment, he could keep tabs not only on his entire team in the field, but on most of the high priority marks around the globe. Located in the heart of the team’s headquarters in New York City, a technological nerve center housing prized scientific achievements that could revolutionize the planet, or destroy it, he could coordinate the most powerful people on the planet.
Having these kinds of resources at his fingertips, it was no surprise that there were those in Washington that wanted to register and control his squad. The government had tried and failed, of course,* and he liked to think that he and his friends had proven themselves by this point.
* [Check out last year’s incredible Cold War event and tie-ins for all the details!]
Still, it stood to reason that a group calling itself The Mighty Masters needed to be kept in some sort of confidence. For their leader, who carefully watched and guided their actions from Masters Mansion, that meant sharing his monitor feed during active operations.
“I assume you’re getting all of this, Creed?” Captain Helmut J. Zemo inquired.
In the corner of the main screen, which took up most of the wall, the bobbing head of a brown-haired nodded his affirmation. “Yes, Zemo. For the record, I’d like to reiterate the Commission’s concerns about sending your heavy hitters to bring in Trickshot and his accomplice.”
While Zemo didn’t trust Creed, he could respect what the man was doing. A government watchdog. He said he was on the Masters’ side, but Zemo knew that he was in the President’s pocket. Their team’s circle overlapped with Creed’s, but he wasn’t completely in with them.
Circles within circles.
Zemo smirked. “Acknowledged. Although, as before, I can assure you that only the appropriate amount of force will be applied. He’s a murderer, Creed, and one of Interpol’s most wanted. We have to take him as a serious threat.”
Turning his attention back to his team on the main screen, Zemo watched one of the deadliest men in the world, and one of his best assets, slide into position on a terrace in the courtyard. Using the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s own security cameras, Zemo tracked their target suspect through the southwest annex and out into an open courtyard.
Zemo had studied Clint Barton, also known as Trickshot, over the years. They had bashed heads multiple times and he could speak to the master archer’s lethal abilities personally. Whether he was leading the Circus of Crime or running errands for the Great American and his ragtag group of Revengers, Trickshot could always be counted on to have something up his sleeve.
On the screen, he saw Trickshot, dressed in his signature purple tunic, quickly scan the courtyard. Locking his sights onto a stone gargoyle that peaked out over the lip of a terrace, Trickshot expertly extracted a specific arrow from his quiver and took aim.
“He’s headed for the roof,” Zemo said. “As predicted, he’s pinpointing your exact location. Take him now.”
Trickshot’s arrow sprang out and embedded itself into the gargoyle, trailing a thin but strong zip line behind it. The villain ran forward, connecting the line to his bow, and slapped the wench motor at the center. As the line shortened, he gained speed and then leapt, using the momentum and the motor’s pull to haul him up to the terrace.
“Moving to intercept,” the first of two Masters on the scene said into the communication link.
Halfway up, however, the hidden Master stood and revealed his position. With precision, Taskmaster unsheathed his sword, leaned over the terrace, and severed Trickshot’s line. The archer, surprised, but not without his faculties, quickly let three arrows fly directly for Taskmaster’s head as he fell.
Despite Trickshot’s mastery over the projectiles, Taskmaster’s reflexes were the keenest that the world had ever known. Thanks to an adrenal steroid that unlocked his mind’s full procedural memory potential, Taskmaster could duplicate the muscle movements of the greatest athletes and combatants in history. Having gone toe-to-toe with the legendary Dragon Fist, the martial arts master Shang-Chi, and even the Great American himself, Taskmaster’s photographic reflexes made it near impossible to strike a hit on him. With ease, he dodged two of the arrows and struck down the third with his sword.
Trickshot was prepared to land on his feet and pump his inertia into a forward somersault. He had only made it about twenty feet off the ground before losing his line, so he was sure he wasn’t in danger of spraining his ankles. His time spent with the Circus of Crime and their tumbling professionals had rubbed off on him. From there he would break into a run and find another exit.
Thanks to the second Master present, however, he never got the chance.
“I’ve got him,” a strong, feminine voice spoke through the speakers in the monitor room.
Zemo smiled as he saw the silver streak called Moonstone fly down into the open courtyard, catch Trickshot, and rocket him back up into the air again. Zemo knew that Trickshot could struggle as much as he wanted, but even if he could break the full nelson hold as he was propelled upward, he definitely wouldn’t stand a chance against her Kree gravity stone-enhanced strength.
The gravity stone had bonded to Moonstone’s nervous system years ago, instantly making her one of the most powerful people on the planet. Aside from the ability to fly and her enhanced strength, she could also become intangible and unleash incredible photonic energy. She was undoubtedly one of the most stalwart members of Zemo’s team, and in his personal opinion, the most stunning.
“Excellent,” Zemo said. “Be prepared for—”
A white baton, about a foot in length, struck Moonstone in the temple. The baton fell clattering back down to the courtyard, and Moonstone, despite her resolve, loosened her grip on her captive.
Trickshot took advantage of her temporary dizziness to slip one arm free, which he slid behind her head and pulled downward as he curled his body and drove his knee up. His armored kneecap slammed into her face, causing her nose to gush blood. In reaction to the dual shock, she completely released Trickshot.
Once more in freefall, he deftly launched another arrow, this time directly below him. It struck the roof and the head exploded. The liquid contents of the arrow head, when exposed to air, rapidly expanded and hardened. Within seconds a plasmatic cushion formed underneath Trickshot, which caught him like a pillow. He bounded once and then landed on his feet, taking off in a run across the roof.
“Damn!” Zemo shouted. “Mockingbird is hiding around there somewhere. Target is headed for the southern corner.”
“Do not let that man escape, Zemo,” Creed said from his tiny window. “He is a priority suspect that the Commission will—”
Zemo muted Creed, annoyed by the man’s arrogance. He needed to concentrate; to focus. He had ran a strategic simulation of this operation three times. He knew that Mockingbird would be in the area, but had wrongfully assumed that she would assist with Trickshot’s exfiltration from outside the museum. The angle of her baton toss, however, indicated that she was somewhere inside.
“Taskmaster,” Zemo said into the comm. “Move to your secondary position.”
“Are you sure?” the expert field operative replied. “I can still catch Barton.”
“Barton will head for the subway line. My algorithms all agree. I’ll have someone else pick him up. Right now I need you in secondary position to head off Mockingbird.”
Zemo could see the reluctance in his body language via the security feed. He imagined what kinds of thoughts were running through Taskmaster’s head in that moment. It had been no easy accomplishment to get the incredible specimen to join his team, as Taskmaster much preferred to operative alone. Still, the promise of making some real positive changes in the world, and capturing the ones that always alluded him, had persuaded him.
Ultimately, just as Zemo knew he would, Taskmaster complied with the order. He slipped back up to the rooftop and sprinted along the spine of the tiles, carefully lining up his positioning. When he reached the end of the rooftop he lunged out, grabbing a flagpole and sliding down until he reached the northeast corner of the courtyard.
From there he could get to virtually any corridor within minutes. Multiple hallways and entry points overlapped this particular segment of the museum, to which Taskmaster took full advantage. Zemo had carefully pinpointed three specific positions for both him and Moonstone, each one to assigned to accommodate an expected scenario. It was true that Zemo hadn’t anticipated Mockingbird already being inside the museum, but they could adjust for variables. That was why he always had multiple plans moving in a symphony of orchestrated control.
Taskmaster ran between two pillars and through an entryway that brought him into a great hall, filled with marble statues from a forgotten era. His gaze swept the room and, seeing no one present, he turned around and jumped straight up, grabbing the stone ridge that lined the inside of that particular entrance. He hauled himself up and for the second time settled into a perch of sorts, using his precise balance to remain perfectly still with only a two inch wide molding to support him.
Zemo scanned the monitor feed, searching for his target. He glanced at one showing Trickshot’s position and chose to ignore the criminal as he was moving in his predicted manner. Then, a flutter of motion in the feed displaying the courtyard’s northeast corner.
“Got her,” he said. “Taskmaster, on my mark. Three. Two. One. Mark.”
Taskmaster simply shifted his center of gravity forward and he fell directly on top of Mockingbird, instantly stunning her. She hit the floor in a heap and Taskmaster’s knees dug into her back, right between the shoulder blades, pinning her. Within seconds Taskmaster had her hands behind her back and locked in wrist-ties that Zemo had designed himself. They were strong enough that even Titania had to concentrate on breaking them.
“Good work, team,” Zemo said, turning his attention to the other feeds. “Moonstone, report in. Are you hurt?”
“Just my pride,” she responded as he saw her float over the courtyard. “Where’s Barton?”
A new voice entered the conversation, this one metallic but smooth, saying, “The archer has been apprehended.”
Zemo smiled. Ultron, the most sophisticated automaton in existence, flew toward Moonstone on the monitor, Trickshot in hand. His silver sheen hadn’t even been smudged when picking up the archer as he predictably headed for the subway to escape. Zemo had Ultron on semi-reserve while he (or it, Zemo never knew which pronoun to use) was giving an interview at the nearby Daily Trumpet building.
Plans within plans.
Circles within circles.
“Thanks for the assist,” Moonstone said as Zemo watched Ultron approach her midair on the monitor. “Did he happen to mention what he was after this time?”
“He has pled the fifth amendment,” Ultron replied. “Although, I certainly doubt that will keep us from learning his goal after we review the security footage.”
“Cough it up, archer,” Moonstone said. “Save us the trouble, just this once, okay?”
“Bite me,” Clint Barton shot back with a sneer.
Trickshot hung from Ultron’s fingers like a sad child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Ultron raised him up to eye level and spun him so that they were staring at each other. The automaton’s burning red optic sensors flashed.
“Even I know that you should be polite to a lady,” Ultron said. “And I’m not even human.”
“Stuff it, tin man,” the archer spat out. “I don’t need any of your self-righte-HEY!”
Ultron had let three of the four fingers pulling on Trickshot’s tunic slip free, which didn’t go unnoticed by the criminal. From this height, and now liberated from his bow and quiver, he wouldn’t be bouncing back on his feet anytime soon.
“Apologize,” Ultron said. It was a command, but the robot’s voice never wavered from its usual mellow melody.
“You wouldn’t-OKAY! OKAY! I’m…I’m sorry, okay? God!”
Zemo cut their audio when he saw Taskmaster dragging Mockingbird back into the courtyard to join the others. Her black and white outfit was torn in several places and he was surprised to see that Taskmaster’s hood had slid off. While a minor detail to most, who might even chalk it up to the man exerting himself slightly or the wind catching him at the right angle, Zemo knew this meant that Mockingbird had given him quite a struggle.
“You satisfied, Creed?” Zemo asked as he enlarged the Commission man’s screen.
“I am. Get them into Damage Control custody and I’ll be even more satisfied.”
With a nod, Zemo ended their exchange and closed off all monitor feeds. The weight of handling the mission suddenly hit him and he felt tired. His back, legs, and feet all begged him to simply sit down, and maybe he would this time.
Instead, he swapped out the dead feeds for the museum security footage from before they had taken control of the situation, hoping to find out exactly what Trickshot and Mockingbird were after. They had come in once the silent alarm had been tripped, which was sloppy on Trickshot’s part, and didn’t have all of the information they needed. Zemo wanted to know what they were after and if they were working alone.
“No rest for the weary?” a voice behind him said.
Zemo nearly jumped, but he was trained to expect the unexpected, as silly as it sounded. Still, the sudden arrival from the one Master that he could never fully anticipate knocked him off his guard. He always felt a little odd when around Loki, self-proclaimed Norse god.
As casually as possible, Zemo looked over his shoulder to see the delightful scoundrel leaning against the system’s memory banks, eating an apple. As per usual, he was smiling, and also as per usual, he wasn’t alone. Loki was rarely without a woman nearby.
“I told you the Captain hates it when you sneak up on him,” Titania whispered. Standing upright and facing Zemo, but not making eye contact, she shouted, “Loki and Titania, reporting in, sir.”
“At ease,” Zemo replied with an air of guilt. He saw Loki suppress a laugh. Zemo had personally recruited Titania to the Masters a month ago and had since realized that he had come on a little strong. His speech on joining the ranks of the elite heroes of the world might have been overkill, in retrospect.
“The Bifrost remains intact,” Titania reported. “Although a few trolls can’t say the same. Sir.”
Loki winked at Zemo and then stepped out from behind Titania. His sheepskin cloak billowed behind him, making him every bit of the master of magical tricks that he actually was. Zemo believed in magic well enough; he had seen some amazing things conjured before. Whether or not Loki was an actual god or some alien with delusions of grandeur he had yet to determine.
“Despite my brother’s efforts,” Loki added, “the Rainbow Bridge remains open to us. Given the current state of Asgard these days, that is truly a miracle.”
“Good,” Zemo replied as he turned back to his feeds. “The Bifrost has proven to be useful to us in the past, such as when Ultron was rendered inert by Richards and his showboating family.* I was more than a little concerned when your spies brought us word that your brother was looking to overrun the bridge with his trolls, Loki.”
* [You have to go waaay back to West Coast Masters #2 for that one!]
Loki sighed. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I can see the reasoning behind Thor’s motivations. His best quality has always been his bullheaded strength. By seeking to simply overpower our control of the Bifrost he could cut me off from Asgard completely. And, oh, how the bar maidens would weep!”
Loki tossed a glance back at Titania at this last statement, making her blush. For all of Loki’s qualms, there was no arguing his right to be on the team of the world’s most powerful heroes. Time and again he had thwarted by brother’s plans to not only rule Asgard, but to invade Midgard (or Earth, as the locals referred to it). His mastery over the magical nature of his own realm, combined with his silver tongue and adventurous attitude, made him a formidable opponent.
That silver tongue had obviously made an impression on their newest recruit. Zemo cleared his throat as he eyed Titania, who was arguably one of the strongest people on the planet. She had stood up against Ben Grimm and his Yancy Street thugs all on her own, which was really saying something. Despite her nearly unbreakable skin and her bulging mucles, Titania still seemed to harbor every bit of the shrinking violet she had once been. As Mary MacPherran she had been a scrawny and hopeless introvert. After Victor van Damme had transferred her into the next generation of hero, Mary finally gained the acceptance and power she desired, choosing to live up to her newfound potential by accepting Zemo’s invitation to join the Masters.
“Anything to get us further out from under the thumb of Creed and his Commission on Superhuman Activities,” Zemo said as he continued to focus once more. He nearly had the footage where he wanted it. “Did I tell you that he’s made it so we have to lease our own quinjets? Insanity.”
Loki tossed his apple core into a nearby receptacle and bowed dramatically. “At the behest of myself and my lovely companion, the Bifrost will continue to serve as an extradimensional mode of transport, should we need it.”
“My thanks, Loki,” Zemo began to say, but something on the screen cut him off. Noticing his hesitation, and slightly irritated that something had pulled away from being bathed in appreciation, Loki stood to his full height and traced Zemo’s gaze to the screen.
The feed had caught Trickshot coming out of the Arthurian Hall, this mere moments before entering the nearby courtyard and having his escape route cut off, literally, by Taskmaster. Zemo knew full well that the Arthurian Hall contained not only a number of priceless artifacts, but several legitimately magical items. It was a specific point of contention between Loki himself and the curators, stating that items of legend, whether they were inert or not, could be empowered again should popular opinion choose it to be so.
The idea was that the more societal belief was rooted in the conceptualization of something, perhaps a talisman or even a deity, the more power that something would gain. Hercules walked among modern day man, and per Loki it was thanks in no small part to his continued iconic stories of ruthlessness. The sharing of those stories, now forever engraved in Hollywood’s vault, gave him virtual immortality.
It was the same for objects of power. Over many a pint of ale, Loki had argued the danger of even allowing a museum to exist at all. Shove enough people in front of what the museum claimed was Excalibur and the mythical sword could theoretically become enchanted again.
Zemo quickly pulled the feed back to just before Barton had entered the Arthurian Hall. He saw the fabled sword, shoved into a fiberglass boulder. Also among the curated items were a set of golden armor that Arthur had supposedly worn, a stuffed Pegasus, a replica of Morgan Le Fay’s laboratory, the tome collecting Merlin’s delusional rituals, and various other bobbles. Ever since the discovery of the Isle of Avalon decades back, people had become fascinated with King Arthur and his horrific deeds once more. Today, however, it seemed that the hall was virtually empty.
Save for Trickshot, who entered through an air vent in the corner of the great room. Zemo, Loki, and Titania watched the replay of Trickshot slipping down into the hall and carefully making his way through the displays.
After a few dozen meters, he paused, looking up at the wax statue of King Arthur. Fluid as water, Trickshot ripped an arrow free from his quiver, mounted it on his bow string, and let it fly at the statue. The tip of the arrow jammed into a jewel on the necklace that the dummy wore, chipping it out of its setting and flinging it up into the air. Trickshot casually caught the gemstone and then made his exit from the hall toward the courtyard.
“What was it?” Loki inquired, his voice sounding desperate. “What did he grab?”
“Checking the museum’s inventory files now,” Zemo said as his fingers danced across the work station keys. “Whatever it was, Ultron would have secured it after grabbing Barton.”
Titania stepped in beside Zemo, opening the communication channel to their teammates again. “Ultron, are you there?”
The mechanical voice replied, “I have just deposited Trickshot with the local authorities, Titania. How can I assist you?”
“Oh, you’re quick. I mean, I’m sure you took the necessary precaution. I didn’t mean that you were reckless. I mean, not that you could be reckless—”
“Ask him, woman!” Loki spat out. His eyes were looking back and forth between Zemo’s search of the museum records and Titania’s panel.
“Did you happen to search Trickshot before you, you know, deposited him?”
“Of course. I will never understand you biologicals and your need for constant connection to the world wide web. I removed five separate devices from Trickshot that would enable him to communicate via cyberspace. With all of this precious nature constantly swirling around you, why would you not—”
“He’s bloody ranting again, and I hate it when he calls us ‘biologicals’,” Loki murmured just before he shoved himself in front of Titania and shouted into the microphone, “Ultron! Did you find the item he stole from the museum or not? It looks on our end like he took a gemstone of some kind from the Arthurian Hall.”
A pause, and then Ultron replied, “I found no such stone, or gem of any kind, on his person.”
Titania said, “He could have stashed it in the museum somewhere so he could retrieve it later.”
“Any footage of him getting close to someone prior to getting into the courtyard?” Loki inquired.
“Negative,” Zemo replied. “The hall spills directly into the courtyard. He’s not out of view for a single frame.”
“So, if he didn’t hide it somewhere,” Titania said, “and he didn’t pass it off to someone…”
“And he didn’t keep it…,” Loki added.
“Then where the hell is it?” Zemo finished for their collective.
BOOM!
Sensors began to flash and alarms balred, but it was too late. A massive hole had been punched into the mansion ceiling, despite the reinforcements that Abner Jenkins himself had designed and installed.
Debris fell onto Zemo, Loki, and Titania, each of whom instinctively threw themselves clear in time. Despite the element of surprise, the three trained Masters were more than prepared to take on whoever dared to assault them in their own home.
Zemo was the first back on his feet, springing up and grabbing his sword, which was never far from his side. An expert swordsman, he unsheathed the blade and gripped it tightly, ready to fight back.
Loki coughed once and accepted Titania’s proffered hand. She pulled him back up and his hands began to glow an eerie blue as he began to summon his illusionary magic. Titania likewise cracked her knuckles, ready to brawl until her teammates were safe from harm again.
They looked upward to see the tip of a crimson boot poke over the edge, and a split-second later the rest of the figure stepped into the view, looking down at them through the hole he had just created.
Zemo traced the red boot up along the silver and red costume, briefly focusing on the star at the center as he always did, before fixating on his enemy’s face. It was a face that haunted him. Time and again, despite watching him die at the hands of his own soldiers, despite being captured and imprisoned on three different continents, and despite the march of time itself, here once more stood one of the Masters’ greatest foes.
“Rogers,” Zemo muttered.
The Great American half-smiled at them. Strapped to his left arm was his damned indestructible shield, a tool for defense according to most, but in the hands of Steve Rogers, a formable weapon. Its silver and red circular pattern matched his uniform, the same uniform that marked a person a traitor to their country and placed them in league with those that would seek to overthrow democracy with chaos. Zemo couldn’t even begin to count the number of impressionable soldiers that Rogers had duped into wearing his colors into battle. Even though he had been defeated time and again, somehow the Great American was able to raise an army to carry out his plans.
“By now you’re wondering just what exactly you’re caught in the middle of,” the Great American stated. “Always playing catch-up, Masters. Isn’t that right, Helmut?”
“What is it this time, Rogers?” Zemo demanded. He was careful to remain aware of his surroundings and not be drawn in by the Great American’s tendency to spout rhetoric as a distraction. “Have you come to dangle your strategic genius over us again? Come to tell us how you’ll finally win?”
The Great American laughed. “No, not this time. This time…” Steve Rogers plucked something from his belt and held it aloft for them to see. A shimmering stone, its radiance nearly blinding the three heroes beneath, was held between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve already won.”
Zemo shouted, “Masters; mobilize!”
Titania reactively bent her knees and then pounced up, her incredible strength shooting her like a rocket toward the Great American. To aid in her ascent, Loki quickly conjured an illusion of a huge snake slithering along the ceiling, which curled up through the hole that the Great American had somehow punctured into their rooftop.
Attuned to Loki’s mischief, the Great American ignored the false-snake, instead focusing his concentration on the gemstone between his fingers. A searing blast of white energy erupted from the stone, slamming into Titania and forcing her back into the mansion. She crashed into the flooring and kept going, punching through two more floors until she finally stopped. Wisps of ethereal energy entangled her, keeping her from rising again if she was even able.
Turning the stone’s power to the giant snake hissing beside him, the same energy wave washed over Loki’s illusion, dissipating it. With another quick blast, Loki was hit, but instead of being driven down like his teammate, he was pushed along the floor until he slammed into the monitor console.
Zemo launched his sword at the Great American, aiming for the gemstone. His precise aim would dislodge it from his enemy’s grasp and they could buy some time to deal with the assault.
…had not a familiar, glowing, ionic hand grasped the sword out of midair.
The cascade of purple and black energy spilling off of Simon Williams’ form was instantly recognizable to Zemo, and seeing the villain that called himself Wonder Man made his stomach drop. Not only was Simon Williams a force to be reckoned with on his own, but if Wonder Man was here, it meant that the Great American had once more reformed his savage Revengers.
Sure enough, the feline Tigra slinked to the edge of the hole and looked ready to pounce. Her deadly claws had ravaged Zemo more than once and he still had the scars to prove it. She was a mistress of primal combat, with natural instincts that enabled her to conquer any man, which she did gratefully and on a regular basis. She was known to take lovers and shred them to bits when she was through with her fun.
As the Great American’s agent, Tigra was his second in command while in the field. Her tactics, like her, were brutal and relentless.
On the opposite side of Wonder Man, adjacent to Tigra, now stood the shadowy agent of discord, the Void. Cloaked in a trenchcoat of darkness and wearing a black, wide-brimmed hat, the only visible aspect of him was his eerie face. Contorted by his own powers, the Void’s personality was a dark as his exterior. Strands of what he called his infini-tendrils swarmed around him, ready to engulf any who opposed him.
Simon smirked at Zemo. “Bring a knife to a gun fight,” Wonder Man said. “That sounds just like you, Zemo. Always ill-prepared. When are you going to submit to your betters?”
“Show me my betters and we’ll talk,” Zemo responded coldly.
“You see, Helmut,” the Great American said as he suddenly levitated and lowered himself down into the mansion. The power of the gem seemed to swim up his arm and evaporate, alluding to his control of its power, which apparently now granted him flight. “Wonder Man here is correct, in a sense. You are ill-prepared. This time, there is no way for you stop me, because this time I’ve discovered something far better to conquer than your precious country and you’ll be dead before you even begin to fathom my meaning.”
Zemo knew that he had to keep Rogers talking if he had any hope of making it out of this alive. He watched the Great American descend, still holding the gemstone. Wonder Man likewise came into the mansion, although he hovered closer to the hole in the ceiling with his arms crossed over his chest, making sure to give his leader space.
“Try me, Rogers,” Zemo said.
The Great American scoffed. “Do you even know what this is?” he asked, holding the gem forward slightly. “It is a fragment of an even more powerful relic called the Evil Eye. It’s said to be so powerful that even a sliver of it granted King Arthur the strength to rule Camelot by force, and with it, all of Avalon.”
“The display in the museum—”
“Was real; quite right. It took coercing Hank Pym and his G.I. Ant-Men into using his precarious time table to gain the necessary information, but in the end it was worth it.”
“How did you even get it from Trickshot?” Zemo inquired.
“Barton is useful in some instances,” the Great American replied. “But he rarely grasps the opportunities right in front of him. I ordered him to collect the gem and use its own power to teleport it directly to me. As soon as he had it in his hand, literally a second later it was in mine.”
“We’ve tangled enough times for you to know that some little stone isn’t going to be enough to defeat the Masters, Rogers,” Zemo countered.
“Yes, yes. Indeed.” The Great American plucked something else from his belt. “That’s why I went and collected the other fragments.”
The Great American opened his palm to show a larger stone, which looked exactly like the smaller one between his fingers. With obvious glee, Rogers slapped the Arthurian fragment of the Evil Eye into place with its brothers, generating an explosive wave of energy that pushed them all back a few feet.
When Zemo looked again he saw Rogers glowing and holding aloft not a rejoined rock, but a lens. A nearly deafening hum filled the room. “The reformed Evil Eye has mastery over matter, can project its power, and even open gateways to other worlds!” shouted Rogers. “You see, Helmut? You and your Masters are no longer a concern to me because in a moment I’ll use the Eye to wipe you from our history, and then I’ll travel to a new dimension where I’ll easily rule over an unsuspecting populace! A dimension where you and your heroic friends never opted to fight the good fight!”
Behind him, Wonder Man shielded his eyes from the increasing power of the Evil Eye. His normally solid ionic form almost seemed unable to keep itself bound in the presence of such power as tangents of ionic energy seeped away from him.
The Great American lowered the lens, aiming it at Zemo. With nothing other than pure menace on his face, Rogers said, “Now, Helmut. I’ll finally purge myself of you and humiliate your legacy by recruiting your mirror likeness.”
“Think again!”
The Great American looked up just in time to see Moonstone soaring directly for him, descending from the sky like a targeted missile. Her gravity manipulation abilities propelled her at an alarming rate as she dropped down onto Rogers like a bomb, forcing him down into the mansion.
The thunderous crack of their crash-landing shook the foundations, but not missing a beat, Wonder Man dove down into the fray. The Great American had managed to get his shield between himself and Moonstone, who was pummeling the indestructible disc with nearly everything she had. Wonder Man gripped her by the shoulder, spun her, and landed a haymaker that sent her flying back into the mansion. Without so much as a look at his leader he gave chase.
Zemo quickly reclaimed his dropped sword and lunged for Rogers, slamming his blade down against the villain’s shield. “Give up!” Zemo shouted as they traded blows. “The other Masters have heeded the call! You won’t get out of this.”
“On the contrary,” the Great American replied. “As I stated before; I’ve already won!”
A blast from the lens ripped into Zemo, catapulting him backward. He was caught by Loki, who had regained his footing and had conjured a cushion for Zemo to land safely in. The son of Asgard ground his teeth and cast another spell, this one packed with concussive force, launching it at the Great American.
But a thousand black tendrils dropped in front of Rogers, creating a curtain that absorbed the force of Loki’s play. Loki looked up to see the snarling Void drop down, his tendrils lashing forward to slice into him. Loki deftly tumbled between slashes of the tendrils, springing upright and casting another force spell, which was in turn cut down by the Void’s strange abilities.
“You will not keep me from my other self,” the Void spat out. When he spoke, his voice sounded like a choir of tortured souls speaking all at once. “I have seen the other world promised to us, and I have seen the heroic bastard that wears my face there. I will consume him and you won’t stop us!”
The pair clashed, trading nimbleness for outright audacious affronts of aggression. For every strike Loki threw, the Void countered and came back once more.
The Great American stood to his full height and Tigra leapt down to join him. She claws traced the contours of his wide chest, pausing at the white star in the center. She curled her tail around his leg and looked up into his masked eyes, saying, “Finish them now, my commander.”
Cupping her chin in his hand, Rogers replied, “Were it not for your cat-like cunning, I would take you as my consort. Can you be trusted enough to accompany me to greatness?”
She purred. “Have I not always been loyal?”
Before the Great American could reply, the floor beneath them rumbled. A hand shot through the tiles, tightly gripping Tigra, and then yanking her back down through a fresh opening. The Great American flipped back so as not to fall downward beside Tigra, now seeing that a renewed Titania had pulled her straight through the floor down one level.
Watching Tigra snarl and avoid the pummeling fists of the Master, the Great American scoffed once more and said, “Alone then.”
He held the lens high overhead, basking in its power. It felt warm and welcoming, as if the power knew that it had a new skillful controller. Perhaps the shards were waiting to be reformed and taken up by someone with a strong enough will to do something incredible.
In his peripheral vision he saw Zemo came at him again, sword in hand. Bending the light around him, the Great American created a dome-shaped force field to repel Zemo’s slashes. Try as he might, Zemo could not cut through the newly created shielding.
“Now, Helmut,” the Great American shouted over the rupturing power of the Eye, “The Eye is ready. I can feel it! It took a moment for the shards to reconnect, but now that the lens is fully prepared, I will leave you behind to take my rightful place. I would say that you can bear witness to my ascent to the throne of an entire neighboring world, but you and your fellow Masters will soon be nothing more than a memory.”
The dome filled with white light, which quickly enveloped them all. The last thing Zemo saw was his enemy laughing.
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“Next time Moonstone hits the sound barrier when I’m beside her, I’m sending her my doctor’s bill for tinnitus.”
High above the mansion, both Ultron and Taskmaster rocketed toward their headquarters to heed the call to mobilize, Ultron propelled by his own propulsion system and Taskmaster by his skycycle. The pair flew side by side and tried to match the same trajectory as Moonstone only moments ago. Having finished their business with the authorities at the museum, they were eager to aid Zemo and the others.
“She is concerned for our comrades,” Ultron replied. “My own concern also grows. I still cannot connect with the mansion’s security systems to learn what has happened.”
“We’ll have to move fast in order to—WHOA!”
A pillar of white energy erupted from the center of the mansion, raising enormous amounts of power up into the sky. The clouds spit apart and a vortex soon formed, spinning furiously over the entire city. Static electricity seemed to dangle from the contours of the vortex as the clouds that had been shoved aside were now sucked up into the maelstrom.
Pulling back on his skycycle, Taskmaster hovered in midair to try and assess the situation. Ultron swung back around to join him in staring at the surprising power flow emanating from their headquarters.
“My scanners are detecting alarming volumes of tachyons and contra-energy,” Ultron said. “It would seem that someone has opened a portal to another dimension over New York City.”
Taskmaster glanced down at the mansion and ripped one of his machine pistols from its holster. “Let’s go introduce ourselves,” he said.
The pair didn’t get more than a few dozen meters closer before the white pillar started to spread, and within moments they too were captured in its warm grasp. Taskmaster shouted a guttural battle cry as he was consumed and Ultron tried to transmit his consciousness back to his reclusive jungle home, but the energy overtook them completely.
As the energy continued to spread, soon the entire city fell victim to its embrace. Some died instantly from the sudden shock of being dislodged from their own dimension. Others revered its strange beauty, mistaking it for a sign from the heavens. Still more tried to flee, but were climactically caught, unable to run far enough to elude its pull.
And at the center of it all was the crazed villain who dreamt of dominating not one world, but two…
NEXT: The Great American leads the invasion of the M2K universe! Can anyone be trusted now that villainous doppelgangers have arrived to usurp control? Revengers versus Avengers! Frantic mutant subterfuge! Who is the Void? What role will the Watcher play?
Get ready for the ultimate standoff between dimensions as we plunge onward to our next big event! Join our mailing list to make sure that you don’t miss a single announcement about the continuation of this story, and so much more from M2K!
Get ready for the ultimate standoff between dimensions as we plunge onward to our next big event! Join our mailing list to make sure that you don’t miss a single announcement about the continuation of this story, and so much more from M2K!