The Age of Marvels: Chapter Four

Captain America

and the

Invaders

Part Four

During the darkest days of World War II, America stood united against the threat of the Nazi Germany war machine. Our Greatest Generation sacrificed everything in order to stem the forces of oppression from overrunning our very planet, led under the fearless banner of the greatest warrior of our time, Captain America. Inspired by his courageous example, and with the aid of his misfit band of Invaders, Captain America led the forces of freedom to victory, changing his world forever.

October 2000

New Jersey

The home of Mr. Barnes

Colonel Fury whistled, "How times have changed."

"You said it," Mr. Barnes agreed, taking a sip of his tea. "I realize that Project Rebirth sounds archaic compared to today's standards, but back then it was a big adjustment. Steve and I felt like we were on a whole different planet."

"So that's where you guys went to boot camp?"

"Well, it can only be described as boot camp in the loosest sense," Mr. Barnes answered. "There were only about a dozen of us altogether, and we were each individually instructed by professional personal trainers. Boot camp involves an intense psychological attack designed to weed out the washouts before they have a chance to reach the military proper, Rebirth worked with us in an encouraging manner every step of the way. It was actually kind of fun."

The Colonel stared down at his cup of tea with a sour look on his face, prompting Mr. Barnes to laugh again.

"Yeah, I got that reaction from a lot of soldiers," he said, still chuckling to himself. "But you have to understand that Rebirth wasn't interested in training run of the mill soldiers, they needed leaders, commanders...heroes. And heroes don't need to be bred to follow and take orders as much, they need the training without the added conditioning."

"Yeah, but boot camp is intense for a reason," interjected Colonel Fury, skeptically. "The battlefield is a harsh environment, and it helps to prepare you for that."

"Oh, we were prepared, alright," replied Mr. Barnes. "We may have been encouraged instead of shouted at constantly, but we were also put through the kind of physical training that boot camp never even touches."

Early 1944

Project Rebirth Complex

The next several months saw Steve and James waking up obscenely early in the morning and going to bed agonizingly late every night. Food and bathroom breaks were drastically shortened as well, all in an effort to cram in as much training as possible in the shortest amount of time. Though Steve and James took it all in stride, some of the other recruits would sometimes ask why they were training so hard. Their instructor would answer that it should come as no surprise. The war was not going well, and their newest weapons (the recruits) needed to be ready as quickly as possible to help change that.

The instructor for the dozen or so recruits was an older, thin man with graying hair who enjoyed flicking things at the boys from time to time. He was most often gruff, but could be quick to break out into a smile when the situation allowed. He was a ridiculously difficult taskmaster, but was generally well liked by his pupils as they understood that his strict demeanor was not his choice, but had been forced upon him by the necessities of the war.

Everywhere he went he brought along his walking cane, which was a modest wooden one that half the time he didn't even need, and when he wasn't flicking things at the recruits, he was whacking them with the stick for slacking. For that, he earned himself the nickname Stick from the boys while his back was turned.

Along with the enigmatically likeable Stick, Dr. Erskine himself took a personal interest in the progress of his trainees. Often times he was right there on the floor of the training module with them, always with his trusty clipboard, shouting encouragement, giving advice, and always always scribbling away at his notes, his wild, unmanageable hair sticking up at any and all odd angles it could find.

Thanks to the tireless efforts of their two unorthodox coaches, the general atmosphere for the small group of recruits was an amiable one. Despite the fact that they were constantly fighting off exhaustion in one form or another, and unceasingly being trained from dawn until dusk, and effectively imprisoned in the off-white confines of Project Rebirth, they realized that they were taking part in something big, and they all believed in what they were doing.

After the initial month of regular boot camp, which mostly dealt with basic exercises, commands, and the like, the next two months were spent in more advanced training, which most soldiers never had to experience. During the course of said training, the recruits became experts with every weapon, vehicle, and piece of equipment that could possibly be found on the field of battle. This included American, British, French, German, Italian, Russian, Japanese, and many, many more models, some of them dating all the way back to Civil War era equipment that barely worked. Sometimes the recruits felt like their brains could barely contain all the information that was being thrust at them without exploding.

Along with equipment training, the advanced boot camp program included expert hand to hand combat instructions gleaned from fighting styles from all across the globe. The recruits were forced to drill dozens of combat techniques for weeks. This was when Stick's physical prowess really came into play. He would spar with the recruits, who were given every advantage the facility had to offer, while Stick would only use his cane, and would then proceed to beat the snot out of the boys during every single match. Countless times the recruits would hobble away from their humiliating defeats until they finally mastered the technique, all the while with Dr. Erskine watching in bemusement, often while snacking leisurely and grinning, until they were forced to move onto the next combat style. Of course, every day there was the mandatory, two hour, grueling, basic physical training regimen immediately after waking up. Altogether this strict schedule meant that there was plenty to keep the recruits busy every day.

James, who was already in pretty good shape when he arrived, found himself for the first time in his life pushed to his limits on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. He couldn't remember ever being that utterly exhausted for such a prolonged amount of time. He often didn't think that he could continue on with the grueling training for one more minute, but somehow the tireless efforts of the other trainees and the somewhat obnoxious prodding of the instructors helped him keep going.

As ridiculously difficult as James found the training, Steve found it downright impossible. He was by far the scrawniest, most unfit recruit in the program. While most of the others took to the training objectives quickly, some proving themselves to be naturals at the style of combat they were undertaking or the operation of a new weapon, Steve was constantly bringing up the rear at the bottom of the class. He often struggled inwardly with the reason he had been invited. After all, Dr. Erskine had singled him out at the recruitment office, not James.

However, while Steve constantly struggled behind the rest of his compatriots, he never once complained or regretted it. He tried to take pride in his achievements, however insignificant they appeared in the face of the other's accomplishments. It might have taken him an extra ten minutes to run three miles, or he may only lift a third of the weights that the other boys boasted, but at the same time, he was constantly twice as tired and exhausted as his friends, and yet he was the one who inspired them to succeed. When the rest of them were ready to throw in the towel and give up, or wanted to stay in bed an extra hour, or were exhausted to the state of nausea, Steve was always the one willing to go the extra mile and lend a helping hand.

Additionally, Steve could always be found in the training module drilling his techniques hours before any of the others were even awake, as well as hours after they'd all gone to bed. He did this day after day and night after night, even though it honestly didn't appear to increase his performance significantly as compared to the others.

While James may have been the only one of the recruits to notice Steve's early morning and late night excursions (and with growing concern, too) Steve's actions quickly caught the eyes of Stick and Dr. Erskine. In fact, the unparalleled devotion Steve showed to his training prompted Stick to give him extra attention during drills, resulting in Steve's rapid growth. By the end of the three month training period, he was nearly a match for some of the other recruits, which was a vast improvement compared to his earlier prowess.

During their training, Dr. Erskine seemed to grow quite fond of the recruits, making a habit of taking breaks with them and even accompanying them to their rushed meals. Despite his decidedly odd behavior and demeanor, he became fast friends with them, as they all grew to respect each other. It didn't take long for them to learn all about one another, to the point that they eventually divulged their entire life stories. Dr. Erskine was even able to pull some strings so that the whole crew could go and eat dinner with him at his home every Friday night. (As long as his superiors didn't find out.)

Thanks in no small part to Steve's unflagging and encouraging efforts, he quickly won the respect and admiration of both the recruits and the instructors, which helped to push them to strive harder and harder to better themselves in the training module. This did not escape the notice of Dr. Erskine, who was of the opinion that this was the most hard working, talented group of recruits that Operation Rebirth had ever seen.

It came as no surprise that Erskine took special note of Steve from the beginning. Ever since the doctor had caught sight of Steve's file from the recruitment office, he'd felt that the boy was something special. He would often join Steve late at night while he was training alone, and the two of them would talk about this and that.

Despite the great differences between the two, they were both working toward a common goal, and that was all they needed to become cohorts. Steve had never had a friend like Dr. Erskine, and the latter's great experience and unorthodox wisdom meant that he soon became something of a father figure to the boy, something Steve had never experienced.

That is why Steve found himself, late one Thursday night, alone in the training module, warming down after undertaking a disappointingly slow five mile run. As he practically drug himself to the end of his warm-down lap and took a desperate swig from his canteen, he noticed Dr. Erskine absentmindedly approaching him while glancing at his clipboard. As he came closer, Steve shook his head, wondering if the doctor left his infamous clipboard alone even to take a shower.

"Doc, do you ever leave that clipboard behind?" he asked, trying to flash an only somewhat successful smile through is exhaustion.

"This thing?" asked Erskine, holding the clipboard up. "Heavens no, son! Why, practically everything I've ever thought is on here! It functions just like a brain to me, and that's an essential organ, you know."

Steve sat down on a nearby bench, wiping himself off with a towel, "Well, don't you ever record anything anywhere else?"

"Nope, don't need too. I've got it all right up here," Erskine answered, pointing at his head. "...Or here," he added, sheepishly holding his clipboard back up.

"Don't you think that's a little unprofessional?" Steve asked. "I mean, isn't it common practice to make copies of all your work?"

Erskine waved away Steve's comment, "Please son, what's the worst that could happen? It's just a little inconvenient, is all."

"Yeah, I'm sure that definitely won't come back to bite you," muttered Steve, rolling his eyes.

"What was that, son?"

"Oh, nothing."

Dr. Erskine grew thoughtful as he gazed down at his papers some more, "In all honesty, once the project is finished in a few more weeks, I absolutely intend on making more copies of my notes. It's just that I happen to work best this way. I know I employ...different methods, but let's face it, I'm a genius, and geniuses can operate any way they want."

Steve laughed along with the doctor, "Speaking of your genius, oh brilliant one, I actually have a question for you."

"Ask away, oh inquisitive pupil."

"If this serum you're going to administer to us is supposed to give us all enhanced abilities, why are we working so hard?" Steve asked. "I mean, any training we do now is only going to be trumped by the serum, right?"

"See, because I carry this stupid clipboard around with me everywhere, I have the answer for you right here," grinned Erskine. "But seriously son, the serum can only do so much."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that, theoretically, the serum is designed to enhance your muscle mass, endurance, agility, coordination, spatial awareness, intelligence, and basic combat aptitude, but it can't teach you how to fight, it can't instantly adapt your body and mind into that of an enhanced soldier. You have to posses the drive to do that yourself, and you can only achieve that state with good old fashioned hard work and training."

"Fantastic," Steve grumbled, sarcastically.

"Look at it this way," Erskine continued. "The abilities the serum grants you act as just another weapon in your arsenal, but if you aren't trained in the proper use of this weapon, it can never be applied to its full potential."

"So no matter which way you cut it, I still have to complete this pain-in-the-butt training?"

"That's right, son!" mocked Erskine, over-enthusiastically.

"Well, maybe if this whole project wasn't run by some crazy old coot, this would be a little easier," mumbled Steve, just loud enough for Erskine to hear.

The doctor laughed, "Well, to tell you the truth, this whole idea seems crazy to me too," he confessed. "Sometimes I'll just be sitting at my desk when the utter insanity of it all will hit me."

This made Steve perk up, "Yeah? I'm glad I'm not the only one, then. I couldn't think how an idea like this would even occur to me."

Dr. Erskine smiled at Steve, "Honestly son, I've been thinking on this concept for quite some time. I've been working on this serum for my entire life, and Project Rebirth is the culmination of all that work."

"Come again?"

Erskine began talking more animatedly, "I got the idea from old Greek mythology. My father used to tell me stories about the Greek gods, and how they would occasionally interfere in the struggles of man. Sometimes man would even have the audacity to fight against, or with the blessings of, the gods, and those battles were supposed to be terrible indeed."

Erskine's eyes glazed over as he remembered his childhood, "I used to imagine how those wars would look. Thousands of men, blinded by bloodlust, locked in battle against each other, and then, in the midst of all that senseless fighting, a great god, like a titan, would emerge, and he would single-handedly crush all who opposed him in the middle of all that carnage. Those mythical gods were capable of turning the tide of any battle, dominating the forces opposing them effortlessly."

Erskine turned to Steve, more excited than the boy had ever seen him, "Now, do you recall about ten years ago, the great battle between the Sub-Mariner and the Human Torch?"

Steve's eyes widened in realization, "Oh yeah, I remember that! It was all over the papers! They called it the headline of the century."

"Yes, that's the one," Erskine nodded, continuing his story. "I don't know what the papers wrote about it, but at the time I was working for the government on another military contract, and the official government report apparently had a whole different perspective."

"In 1933 I was involved in a secret government project overseeing underwater exploration, in an effort to discover deep sea resources to help our country out of the Depression. However, at some point during the expedition all of our experimental submarines mysteriously vanished from our detection devices. We immediately received communications informing us that we had been found guilty of trespassing on hostile sovereign territory and that any further encroachment would be considered an act of war."

"This warning was personally delivered by an individual who identified himself as King Namor, who claimed to hail from the lost city of Atlantis," the doctor said, grinning at Steve's amazed reaction. "Apparently we had stumbled upon his civilization completely by accident, and the Atlanteans (who by the way already harbored a strong dislike for outsiders) had taken offense to that as they assumed the expedition was made up of scouts for an upcoming invasion."

"Well, what did you do?" Steve asked, enthralled with the tale.

Erskine shrugged, "Well, King Namor left immediately afterwards, and with no other means of communicating with him, we decided to send another submarine down there, painted it internationally neutral colors, and loaded it with diplomats to explain that we had meant no harm."

"What happened?"

The doctor suddenly became very interested in the bench on which he was sitting, trying to distance himself from the situation, "He may have ripped it in half with his bare hands."

Steve was speechless.

"Yeah," Erskine continued, bashfully. "Next thing we knew, he had gathered a small army of Atlanteans and begun a full scale invasion of New York City. (This is the part you may remember.) He began with a tidal wave that washed over almost the entire island, and then marched his soldiers right into Times Square to begin his occupation. I don't know what we would have done without the Human Torch."

Steve looked at Dr. Erskine questioningly, "I heard about him. What's his story?"

Erskine sighed, "Oddly enough, the Human Torch was actually not human at all. He was created by a colleague of mine from college, Dr. Phineas Horton. Horton was a genius unlike any I have ever seen. He was one of a kind," said Erskine, sighing.

"Well, what happened to him?" Steve asked, concerned.

The doctor continued, somewhat quietly, "Dr. Horton was easily the most brilliant man of our generation, maybe any generation, but after years of unparalleled scientific breakthroughs he went into seclusion, cutting himself off from the scientific community and the world. When he finally emerged years later, he claimed to have discovered the secret of life, having created, purely by scientific means, a synthetic human specimen."

"Uh...what?" Steve asked, stuttering. "Is that even possible?"

"Apparently it was for Horton," answered Erskine, shrugging. "He organized a press conference wherein he planned to give his subject life in front of the entire world's media. I was there, I saw the whole thing."

After a short pause to collect his thoughts Erskine begrudgingly continued, "Horton was up on the stage chatting up the press, obviously enormously pleased with himself. When he was ready, he lifted up the curtain behind him, where everybody saw a normal naked man standing inside a large glass case. Horton said that the case was completely airtight, but that as soon as he let oxygen inside, the man would awaken for the first time."

"Couldn't he just have taken any guy off the street and put him in the case?" asked Steve, curiously.

"That's what we all thought!" exclaimed Erskine. "I mean, making your own synthetic person? That's outrageous! A lot of the press in there didn't even know what 'synthetic' meant!"

"Unfortunately for Dr. Horton, that's when everything went wrong. As soon as he let air into the tank, his experiment caught on fire. It was the most bizarre thing. Yes, the subject did seem to wake up when air entered the chamber, but as soon as it came into contact with his skin, it began to blaze uncontrollably!"

"The strangest part was that the subject didn't seem to feel any pain, or even initially realize that he was aflame. It only seemed to panic when the audience freaked out. Horton was horrified, the media started rioting in fear, and security didn't know what the heck to do. What wound up happening was that the experiment broke out of the glass case, ran out of the building, and then freaking flew away!"

"What do you mean he flew away?"

"I mean he jumped into the air and flew the heck away!" exclaimed Erskine wildly. "It was astonishing, son. I'd never seen anything like it."

"Anyway, the police lost the synthetic man's trail pretty quickly, and nobody had any clue where it could possibly be. To prevent panic, the government hushed it up as best they could, and they even put Dr. Horton in prison for a time. Sadly, despite the fact that his experiment had technically been a success, Horton committed suicide while he was still in prison."

"That's awful," said Steve.

"Yeah, it stunk," Erskine agreed. "But what are you gonna do?"

"I still don't understand what this had to do with Namor invading," Steve commented, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, when the Atlanteans attacked, we were caught completely off guard," Erskine said, coming back to life. "I mean, we were totally unprepared for that! The casualty reports alone would have been astronomical if it hadn't been for the synthetic man's timely reappearance."

"What? He came back?"

"Nobody really knows what happened," admitted the doctor. "We all figured that he must have been hiding somewhere in the city during the flood, and for some reason decided to take things into his own hands. It was a good thing he did too, because there certainly wasn't anything anyone else could have done about it."

"I don't know what Horton did to that thing, but it possessed strength the likes of which I'd never seen before," added Erskine. "He flew out of wherever he'd been hiding, literally saved thousands of people, and then defeated the Atlantean taskforce all alone. He even fought King Namor himself to a standstill above the skies of New York."

"I remember that now!" exclaimed Steve, excitedly. "I saw it from the roof of the building I was on!"

Erskine nodded, "The papers had a field day with it. They're the ones who dubbed the experiment 'the Human Torch', and nicknamed Namor 'the Sub-Mariner'. They claimed that the Torch soundly defeated Namor, who then retreated back to Atlantis with his tail between his legs, but the few military personnel who were there had a different story. They said that only after hours of fighting, the Torch finally lost his life shielding a group of civilians from a collapsing building. So even though he had won the battle, Namor decided to take what was left of his forces and retreat back to Atlantis. We're still not sure why, but something the Torch did must have gotten through to Namor before he died."

"Wow...I never knew," said Steve, solemnly.

"Nobody did," said Erskine. "Again, the government covered up as much of it as they could. Human strength on that scale was completely unprecedented, the only such display in recorded history! They categorized Namor and the Torch as 'meta-humans' and confiscated the Torch's body for study. The whole debacle is now referred too as 'the Atlantean Incident', and even though they've been studying Dr. Horton's experiment for more than ten years, they're still no closer to unraveling its secrets."

"But what was the Human Torch?" asked Steve, in awe. "And what happened to King Namor?"

Erskine just shrugged again, "The Human Torch was some kind of android, which means it definitely wasn't human, but it wasn't exactly a robot either. We don't really know what it was. And as far as we know, Namor is still ruling Atlantis, having either decided that we weren't as bad as he had at first thought, or that we aren't worth the trouble of invading again."

"And we have the Torch to thank for that?"

"We think so, yeah."

There was a short pause before Dr. Erskine went on, "Anyway, after the Atlantean Incident, my serum proposal was met with much more enthusiasm. The government decided that if these meta-humans were indeed more than just a myth, and if they were capable of that much wide-scale destruction, that they had better have some fighting for their side, and that's where Project Rebirth got its start."

"So...in a way...it's because of the Human Torch that I'm here right now," said Steve, thoughtfully.

"I guess you could say that," Erskine agreed. "The Torch, and my unbridled, unparalleled genius.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to thank your genius just as soon as I can," grunted Steve sarcastically, as he got up from the bench and began stretching.

"I just have one more question, Dr. Erskine," he said, trying to pass his query off as an afterthought. "Why did you pick me for this program?"

Erskine looked Steve dead in his eyes, completely seriously, before replying, "Son, when we first began experimentation, we lost a lot of good subjects to the serum prototypes...and that wasn't a burden I was prepared to bear. When I finally saw your file come in from the recruiter's office, I thought that here was a person who would do anything for his country. This guy would fight any battle, make any sacrifice, do whatever it took, to save his nation, and that's what this serum, project, and world needs...and it's what I need."

Dr. Erskine and Steve Rogers locked eyes from across the bench, the silence being broken only by the doctor's final statement, "If this serum is going to work, Steve, it's gong to work on someone just like you."

"I'm not so sure, Doctor."

Erskine gave him another smile as he also rose up from the bench, "You're just going to have to trust me on that, son."

Steve finally plodded into his room in the living module with only a few hours left until he would be forced to wake to start training again for the next day. With barely enough strength left for the task, he began climbing into his bed, relishing the feel of the pillow beneath his head, trying desperately to ignore the fact that he would only be asleep for the next few hours.

"Finally finished working?" asked a voice from the other side of the room.

"James?" Steve asked, startled. "Have you been awake this whole time?"

James rolled over in his bed so he could see his friend, "I couldn't sleep."

"Well give it your best shot. We don't have long until breakfast."

"I'm worried about you, man," James confessed in the darkness. "You stay up way too late, and you don't get nearly enough sleep. You're not gonna last if you keep this up."

Steve rolled over, away from his friend, facing the wall, "I'm sorry James, but I'm the worst recruit in the program. The reason I came here is to try to make a difference, and right now this is the only thing I can do."

Steve's reply was met with silence from James' bed.

"I have to do my best," said Steve, quietly. "It's all I know."

"The longer we're here, the farther away I feel from home," said James, changing the subject after a long break. "I feel like even after we're done here, we'll never be able to go back."

Steve smiled in his drowsy state, "I know. That's why I'm staying."

"Are you scared?"

"...No. Are you?"

"...Not with you around."

"...Good night, James."

"Night, Steve."