The Age of Marvels: Chapter Seven

Captain America

and the

Invaders

Part Seven

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

"Is that how you lost your arm?"

"Hmm? I'm sorry?" asked Mr. Barnes, shaking his head as he emerged from his reverie.

"Your arm," Colonel Fury repeated, pointing. "That's how you lost it, right?"

Mr. Barnes glanced down at his shoulder. It had been so long since the incident that he sometimes forgot that he was missing an arm. He was so accustomed to life without it now that it didn't even bother him. Still, to keep people from staring, he'd taken to wearing a coat over his shoulders and remaining arm to make it less obvious. He was surprised that Fury had noticed at all.

"You're a sharp one," Mr. Barnes said, chuckling. "But no, that happened a bit later, I'm afraid."

"Well, clearly you survived the explosion, and you must have made it out from under the wall that collapsed around you, or we wouldn't be here today."

"Too true, too true," Mr. Barnes laughed. "But it wasn't as simple as all that."

The old man turned serious as his mind traveled back in time once again, "As devastating as the tragedy had been for me, it was doubly so for Steve. However, the situation was a delicate one, and with the power that Steve now boasted, if he was to act impetuously, it would only make matters so much worse."

April, 1944

Mitchell Air Force Base, Long Island

Steve Rogers had been staring out the window for the last two hours. His stern, solemn expression refused to budge, his deep set frown instantly convincing any passers-by to give him a wide berth. His was an intimidating presence. Now almost seven feet tall, clearly well muscled and well disciplined, Steve hadn't moved an inch and stood solidly in front of the window with his arms crossed over his chest, almost as if daring somebody to approach him.

Of course, his mind had yet to focus on several new developments due to the catastrophe and its distracting effects. The fact that his body was now the polar opposite of the one he'd grown up with. The fact that he could accurately, intuitively predict how fast someone was moving, where they'd be thirty seconds from now, and what they were going to do next. The fact that his mind was making these unconscious calculations every waking second. And the fact that for the first time his physical appearance now matched the acute, focused, iron-willed spirit within. All these things had been completely ignored by Steve. These facts, which had irrevocably changed his life forever and would have stunned any other person, would have to wait until later. He had more important things to dwell on.

As far as he was concerned, the only thing that commanded Steve's attention that day, was bringing John Smith to justice. Nothing else mattered. This was the bright beacon that Steve's mind was solely focused on. That's just how he worked, how he'd lived his whole life. Steve would focus on a goal, and keep working towards it doggedly until it was achieved, no matter how unrealistic or far-fetched it might be. The only difference was that now his only goal was avenging the lives of his comrades...and now he had the ability to accomplish that goal...thanks to the now deceased Dr. Erskine.

Steve tried once again to blink back the tears which threatened to overflow onto his face. He didn't have time for tears, he could cry later. Right now there was a job to do, and people watching him. Since the news that he was the sole survivor of the super soldier serum experiment had gotten out, people had been treating him, looking at him…differently, especially the survivors of Project Rebirth.

Those people who had just had their friends, family, and home utterly destroyed saw Steve as their only hope. They had dedicated their lives, many had sacrificed their lives for the development of the first super soldier, their ultimate weapon against the Nazis. Seeing Steve as he now was, as opposed to what they knew he used to be, suddenly brought purpose and meaning to the tragedy that had shattered their lives. It brought meaning to the deaths, meaning to the hard work, and meaning to the smoking crater which now festered within the heart of New York. And it wasn't just the survivors, everyone at Mitchell saw him that way...everyone.

Steve closed his eyes, bowing his head. He didn't think it would be like this. He didn't think that becoming the super soldier would mean that the hopes and fears of everyone he had ever known would be resting on him like this. He hadn't thought that he alone would be responsible for seeing those dreams come to light. He had hoped that today would be remembered forever as a day of success and joy, a day in which he might finally feel validated for all his years of striving and fighting.

But it hadn't been that way. Instead, today would go down in history as a day of unprecedented loss and death. Today would be marked by suffering and tragic destruction on an epic scale. This was a day that dreams died.

Ironically enough, thinking back on it, Steve didn't even remember all of the events of the last twenty-four hours. He remembered waking up that morning, feeling almost as if destiny itself was guiding him, going to the lab, and he vividly remembered being injected with the serum. After that things got a little foggy.

With the toll that the serum had taken on him, Steve could barely move or think clearly, much less do anything about the situation that he saw playing out before him. Dr. Smith had held Dr. Erskine at gunpoint, using him as a hostage until he received the serum himself. But things had gone wrong, and Erskine had wound up getting shot. James had gone to chase him down, and then something had exploded and everything went dark. The entire scene had lasted less than ten minutes for him, and except for the searing pain in his heart caused by the death of his mentor, it almost seemed like it had happened to someone else.

The next thing Steve knew, he was being firmly shaken awake. Unsettled, he got to his feet and realized what had happened when he was witness to devastation the likes of which he'd never dreamed possible. The entire Project Rebirth complex had been utterly destroyed, and he was surrounded by the rubble and corpses of the people that had become like family to him.

But he didn't have time to stare for long, he'd been rushed into an evacuation convoy, along with any other survivors that could be found. That trip had been almost as bad for Steve as his initial awakening, as he was surrounded by people who were in much worse shape than he was, some of whom were dying right there in the truck.

Within the hour dozens of survivors had been transported to Mitchell Air Force Base on Long Island, and the only thing on Steve's admittedly shell-shocked mind was finding James Barnes. He had scoured the entire medical bay and shouted at half a dozen men, claiming that if he had to, he would walk back to Rebirth to find the body of his friend, before someone had finally showed him to the third floor of the hospital wing, where he had finally found him, unconscious but with no major injuries, laying peacefully in bed and already bandaged.

The doctors said that it would be only a matter of minutes or hours before James regained consciousness, and advised Steve to wait outside. Only then, when he'd made sure that his best friend was okay, had Steve permitted himself to sag into a chair in the lobby next to James' room, and weep uncontrollably at the nightmare he had suddenly found himself in.

It was almost as if the world was uncontrollably spinning around him, and there was nothing he could do about it. For the first time in his life, Steve didn't know what to do. He didn't know whether to thank God for saving James, or curse himself for letting Dr. Erskine die. He didn't know whether to cry for the loss of his mentor, or praise his lucky stars that his life's work had finally been achieved in Steve.

Along with this came feelings of inadequacy and guilt. Dr. Erskine had been one of the most brilliant men in the world. How was Steve supposed to live up to that kind of legacy? How was Steve supposed to embody everything that all these people expected him to be? It was his responsibility, his sole responsibility, to make sure that all those men had not died in vain, to make sure that the project that they'd risked their lives to complete changed the world like they'd always dreamed. Just how exactly was he supposed to do that all alone?

And that's when Steve realized that at the very least, he had a plan for now. He didn't know what the future held for him, or what the war would hold for him, but he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what he was going to do now. He was going to find and capture Dr. John Smith, and he was going to bring him to justice for his crimes. And Lord save him when Steve found him, because even though Steve had resolved not to forsake the justice that he'd always believed belonged to every man, he had little control over what shape Smith would be in when he was finally brought back to the authorities.

Of course, that all depended on if James woke up. Steve refused to leave the hospital while James was still there, no matter what. His loyalty was not contingent on any emergency or meeting. He belonged by James' side, and that's where he would stay.

"Hey there, Scab. Penny for your thoughts."

Steve turned to find James standing behind him, leaning against the wall for support. With a cry of happiness, Steve leaped at James, enveloping him in a hug that was equal parts sweet and bone-crushing.

"Ow ow ow! Watch the waterworks Steve, you're breaking my spine!" shouted James, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, sorry," Steve said, putting James back down having not realized he'd even picked him up. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a tank," admitted James, rubbing his arms. "You?"

Steve looked down at his feet awkwardly, "I don't know. I guess physically I'm fine, but it still feels a little strange. How am I supposed to feel after that kind of procedure?"

"Oh yeah, I'm an expert at biologically advanced super soldier physiology, you know," quipped James, his smile widening. "I'd actually be surprised if you didn't feel that way. I'd imagine it's pretty normal."

Steve smiled as he looked at his friend, "I'm glad you're okay, James."

"Yeah, you too, Steve."

"Yes yes, we're all fine and dandy," came the sound of a gruff voice from around the corner. "Now that we've all had a chance to wipe our little noses, can we get some real work done?"

Steve and James turned to see a middle aged, slightly overweight officer standing behind them. His stringy white hair was rapidly abandoning him, but the scowl planted firmly on his slightly wrinkled face suggested that he didn't give two craps about the state his hair was in. They got the instant impression that this was not an easy guy to get along with.

"But sir, James here is still recovering from..."

"Your country needs you when she needs you, boy. Nothin' I can do about that. Now come on."

The officer started at a brisk walk down the hallway, leading them to another door. Steve and James trailed behind him, the latter still trying to wrap his brain around this latest development.

"Steve, who is this guy?"

Steve whispered back, "This is Sergeant Phillips. He's the officer in charge of this base. He's been on my case since we got here about an officer's meeting."

James was still confused, "Then why am I coming?"

Steve steeled himself as he answered his friend, "Because you and I are the last surviving recruits to have graduated from Project Rebirth. Despite the fact that you were never administered the serum, you still completed Stick's training with honors, and that makes you an official combat specialist, one of the most distinguished in the U.S. Military, designating you as a priority."

James pretended to tear up with emotion, "...sniff...Mama Barnes will be so proud!"

"Shape up back there!" shouted Sergeant Phillips, opening a door. "This is it, boys. Try an' act your age, willya?"

Steve and James walked into a room just big enough to comfortably accommodate the large wooden table in its center. Over half a dozen obviously high ranking officials were already seated around it, some of whom were clearly becoming impatient for the proceedings to begin. Steve and James quickly took two of the only seats left, those that were close to the head of the table, where Phillips stood.

"Gentlemen, you've been here a while so let's not beat around the bush. I'd like to introduce you to Steve Rogers, the only successful recipient of the super soldier serum, and James Barnes, an accomplished combatist and the only other trainee survivor of the Project Rebirth program."

Steve and James nodded at the polite acknowledgement as well as for the other officers as their eyes widened and they realized who they were looking at.

Sergeant Phillips didn't give them long to exchange pleasantries, "With this in mind, let's not delude ourselves. Project Rebirth has been destroyed, along with most of its research, products, and personnel. Such was the complete devastation of the facility and employees that rebuilding it from scratch at this point is simply not an option."

A grim silence filled the room as every person in it became instantly solemn.

Once again, Sergeant Phillips took no notice of this while he continued barreling on with the bad news, "As far as intelligence can tell at this point, it is certain that Rebirth had been infiltrated at a very early stage, at least three years ago, by a man calling himself John Smith, who worked as the assistant to the project supervisor and brilliant head scientist, Dr. Abraham Erskine, who is numbered among the deceased."

James could see Steve flinch just a little at the mention of the doctor's name being thrown around so casually.

For the first time, Sergeant Phillips paused to take a deep breath before continuing, "Our top men have been working on this case almost since before it happened," Phillips explained. "Apparently John Smith is an alias. The traitor's real name is Johann Shmidt...and he has been identified as one of the Nazi's most high ranking and accomplished spies."

Phillips leaned down on the table in order to look his colleagues eye to eye, "This is an important one, people. This guy reports directly to Adolf Hitler himself. He is a very dangerous man."

The hairs on the back of Steve's neck bristled with hatred. Somehow just knowing the true name of the murderer made his loathing for him that much more tangible.

"Evidence suggests that Project Rebirth's downfall was not a spur of the moment kinda plan. Shmidt was forced to mastermind a scheme that would literally take years to come to light. First he successfully infiltrated the program, using his extensive scientific background and natural genius to his full advantage. Then, over a period that could have taken months or even years, he began attaching remote detonator bombs to the support pillars of the complex. Now due to the extensive security precautions taken at Rebirth, he would have had to map out the system, and wait for the exact right instant to attach the bombs to each of the dozens of load bearing columns and walls in order to remain undetected by the security cameras, which helps to explain why it took him so long to strike."

"More importantly," continued Phillips, his voice dropping. "Was Shmidt's original objective, which we have now identified, was to abscond with the main product of Rebirth, the super soldier serum which Dr. Erskine had spent his entire life developing."

"It is important to note that Shmidt did not reveal himself until after the first successful test subject for the serum had emerged, meaning Captain Rogers here," Phillips said, motioning briefly to Steve. "Only then, after the serum had finally been perfected and he'd gotten all the information he needed, did Shmidt blow his cover, emphasizing two things. First, that the Nazis, for whatever reason, hadn't placed a high priority on any of the other experiments being tested at Rebirth. (That's a bad sign, folks.) And second, assuming their intelligence is as good as we believed, which is proven by the fact that their spies have apparently inserted themselves so deeply into our ranks, that they have made far less progress than we have with the serum, facilitating the need for them to steal information from us in the first place."

Now Sergeant Phillips was coming around to his point, "Of course, all of this has been rendered useless now, since Project Rebirth, our premier 'top secret' scientific facility and one of the only hopes we had of actually winning this war, has been blown to smithereens and most of the pertinent information gleaned from it is now in the hands of the Axis Powers. In short, gentlemen, we are effectively screwed."

As his speech had progressed, the atmosphere in the room had gotten more and more dark. The other officers, as well as James himself, were becoming increasingly depressed, as the totality of Shmidt's plan hit them full in the face. They had been played...brilliantly. Their every move had been predicted years in advance, and in one moment of ingenious disaster, their greatest weapon had been stolen from them to be used at the Nazis' earliest convenience. Their brightest hope would now become the German's greatest weapon.

While these thoughts understandably darkened the minds of everyone else present, they only served to make Steve more and more angry. He had never known fury like he was now experiencing, and the lack of energy that defined everyone else around him only served to fuel his emotions. Finally, at the end of the debriefing, it had reached the boiling point, and Steve stood up to his new full height, bristling with indignation and rage.

"I can't believe this!" he shouted, slamming his powerful fists down on the table, causing the others to flinch. "I spent my entire life dreaming of joining the U.S. military. I couldn't wait to fight and live with people whose courage and determination were legendary to guys like me. And now, now when we've discovered that the serum actually works, you all just want to lay down and die because of one setback!"

Steve was shouting at the top of his lungs, slamming his fist down as he emphasized every other word. Not showing the least bit of fear in front of the higher ranking officers, he boldly looked each one in the eye as he unprecedentedly criticized each and every one of them. So taken aback by his outburst was James, that he slouched down in his seat, nervous for his friend.

"We have the information and the technology to make Dr. Erskine's dream a reality," Steve insisted, looking from one officer to the other. "We have the power to win this war and avenge the ones who died for that goal. What are we waiting for?"

Not skipping a beat, Sergeant Phillips solemnly replied, "No we don't, boy. All the results, all the valuable information that Dr. Erskine and Project Rebirth discovered was written down on the doctor's clipboard. Anything designated top secret or above he refused to let anyone else record, he claimed for security reasons. That's just the way he ran things," Phillips said, shrugging.

"So what?"

Phillips looked Steve dead in the eyes, "That clipboard, and all the information it contained, was incinerated during the explosion, so there is no surviving record of how to reproduce the super soldier serum."

Steve was stunned. His fears had come true. He remembered, vividly, poking fun at the enigmatic doctor for the unprofessional way he recorded his experiments, but he never thought that his opinions, made in jest, would ever be made valid. Now Erskine's death had been made even more tragic by the fact that his life's work had almost been completely destroyed by his own unconventionality. Destroyed...except for the serum now inside Steve's body. Steve closed his eyes, grimacing inwardly as he felt the weight of the legacy that he alone could carry.

"It's not over," Steve said, almost growling as the words came out, matching Phillips' stern gaze with his own ferocity. "It's barely been a day since the catastrophe, Smith...I mean Shmidt...couldn't have gotten far. We can still catch him and find the serum. We can still do this."

"No, boy," Sergeant Phillips quietly said, unflinchingly staring Steve down. "Our men in intelligence believe that Shmidt wouldn't have struck unless he had a sure escape route handy. By now he's long gone, and the serum with him."

"I can find him," Steve insisted, passionately.

"You cannot find him!" exclaimed Phillips, finally loosing his cool. "Now I have had about enough of you speaking out of turn, boy! Scientific miracle that you are, you have no right to speak to us like this! I brought you two in here for one purpose, to relay to you the orders that have been passed down to me from the White House. Now you either obey these orders, or the two of you will be court-martialled so quick that your heads will spin!"

"And what orders would those be?" Steve asked, in a dangerously soft tone, completely unafraid to directly oppose the Sergeant.

Phillips explained in the same cripplingly stern tone, "You and junior here are to be immediately deployed to the Pacific front. Casualties have been heavy over there, but the higher-ups believe that situation could change fairly soon. They think you two could be the straws that could break the camel's back, and could potentially swing the tide to our favor, giving us the advantage over there...you know, if you don't die first."

"What about the Nazis?"

Sergeant Phillips paused before answering, "The President believes that considering the loss of Project Rebirth, and with it's significant additional support falling into German hands, that the war in Europe is a lost cause. Within a matter of months, even Britain and its allies will have almost certainly fallen without our support, and the Russians are totally cut off from us, rendering their help negligible at best. They feel that the threat Shmidt now poses forces us to cut our losses and refocus on a fight we can still win. Yes, this means that the Nazis will occupy Europe as a whole and thus eventually pose a greater threat to us, but with the two of you out in the Pacific front, we stand a much better chance of defeating the Japs, which would still be a major victory."

Steve steadfastly shook his head, "That's unacceptable, Sergeant. I refuse to give up against the Nazis, especially after all they've done to us, just because the possibility of victory seems a little more remote now."

Now it was Phillips' turn to growl, "I'm afraid the decision is out of your hands, boy."

Steve's outrage once again burst forth, "Sergeant Phillips, I was not given this responsibility so I could cow-tow to a bunch of self-righteous, puffed up, useless pencil pushers who fancy themselves important enough to dictate the fate of the free world! Despite what you and the White House may think, Shmidt poses an enormous threat to national security, and it is my job...my duty...to make sure that he is brought to justice for his crimes! And I will die before I forsake that duty!"

"Stand down, Rogers!" Phillips shouted, furiously banging his hand down on the table.

"Go to hell, Phillips!" replied Rogers, slamming his chair back against the wall as he turned and stormed out of the room.

"Nice seein' you guys," James said apologetically as he hurried up to follow after Steve.

James sprinted to catch up with his friend, who was stomping at a quick gait down the hall, "I assume you know that now we'll probably be exiled from U.S. territory thanks to your little display in there. So what do we do? Join the French Resistance? Become pilots for the R.A.F? Sell hot dogs as street vendors?"

"We're going to find Johann Shmidt and stop him," Steve said stubbornly, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead and not changing his pace in the least.

"Oh...okay," James replied, sarcastically. "I suppose you have a plan for just such an occasion locked away inside that super soldier brain somewhere?"

Steve stopped and turned to James, a slight smile spreading across his face, "Actually, I have absolutely no idea what to do," he admitted.

"I do."

Surprised, Steve and James turned to see Stick, one leg completely wrapped in bandages and leaning heavily on his cane, standing behind them. He was covered in burns and had lost some of his hair, but somehow the severity of his injuries made him look even tougher than normal, as opposed to the fragile state that most of the other survivors were in.

"Uh...shouldn't you be in a wheelchair or something?" asked James, tentatively.

"Wheelchairs are for suckers," Stick replied, without the hint of a smile. "Now walk with me, we don't have much time."

Steve and James were surprised to find that they had to almost jog to keep pace with the crippled old man as he hurriedly spoke to them in a hushed voice, "I heard everything that went on in that room..."

Steve began to ask, "How..."

Stick ignored him, "...and I agree with you guys. Maybe we're all just a little too shell-shocked from what happened at Rebirth, but dammit, this is personal, and it's too important to just let those crackpots at command foul it up again."

"Sir?"

"This is what you were trained for, guys. This is your chance to prove yourselves. Do this right, and you could save all our necks," said Stick.

"Do what right, sir?" James asked, still confused.

The three of them had entered a set of stairs and started climbing up, which confused Steve because he thought that they were already on the top floor. As the echoes of their footsteps began filling up the stuffy air of the staircase, Stick continued walking at his breakneck speed, not even pausing to breathe as he continued speaking.

"You guys are going after Shmidt…tonight, before anyone can stop you and he makes his getaway permanently. And I'm gonna help you."

"But sir, won't you get in trouble for that?" Steve asked, concerned.

"I've got some pull with a couple contacts at the White House," Stick answered, unconcerned with the question as they reached the top of the stairs. "Besides, when you guys make it back with the serum, we'll all be untouchable anyway."

"But how are we going to find him?" James asked, grunting as he pushed open the door and started down the dimly lit attic hallway.

Stick snorted, "I've got people. And in here is everything you'll need to do the job."

Steve and James followed Stick into a dusty, pitch black room, "What do you mean? What stuff? Where?"

Stick flicked on the light switch, "Right here."

Steve and James looked down to see a large metal crate, which had been placed in the center of the room, and was really more like a large closet, "That's a fireproof safe that Dr. Erskine had commissioned for just such an occasion," Stick explained. "I had my people sneak it up here during the chaos of the evacuation. Go ahead and open it up."

James grunted as he struggled to pry open the scorched box, "Who are these...ugh...people you have that you keep referring too, sir?"

Stick flashed a wry smile, "Kid, I could write a book fulla all the stuff you don't know about me."

Steve finally wrenched open the lid, and puzzled, pulled out what looked like a set of clothes, "What is all this?"

"Those...are your uniforms," Stick explained, eyeing the pair carefully.

By now James had his in hand too, "They don't look like any uniforms I've ever seen."

"You two kids were trained and enhanced to become secret weapons capable of turning this war around and leading our country to victory," explained Stick, patiently. "To that end, you have to become something more than mere soldiers or warriors, you have to become a symbol, a symbol of our nation, of our ideals, something that our men can rally behind and believe in. These uniforms reflect those ideals, and what they stand for makes you more than just a man."

"Steve, as the world's one and only super soldier, you'll find that yours is a little more flamboyant. However, with your abilities, you should be able to easily handle whatever extra attention it gives you."

Steve looked over his new uniform with growing pride and anticipation. It was mostly blue, with red and white stripes going down vertically from his chest to his waist and a big white star square in the middle of his chest. The shirt itself was of a classic design, made with a large button down flap over his chest. It came with two large red gloves, blue pants, boots, and a standard military issue belt. Alongside the garments was a blue helmet with a fastener which went under his chin, with a large white 'A' in the middle of it, presumably standing for America. Underneath all this was a thin, leather pilot's flightsuit, complete with goggles to wear over his eyes for extra protection.

"Wow," Steve said out loud. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Well, wait 'til you see this," Stick said, shuffling over to a previously unnoticed corner of the room and unwrapping a large object.

With great pride gleaming in his eyes, Stick held up into the light what appeared to be a shield of classical design in a triangular shape. It too sported red and white vertical stripes below a blue background with a dozen white stars arrayed at the top. From the way Stick was holding it, it must have been more than a little heavy.

"Dr. Erskine had originally intended for several dozen of these to be manufactured," Stick enthusiastically explained. "But I'll be darned if they aren't ridiculously expensive. I guess now you'll have the only one," he said, thoughtfully.

"This baby was made from the most powerful metal alloys in the world," the old man continued. "Constructed from a blend of steel, titanium, and the strongest and rarest metal in existence, the newly discovered vibranium, this shield is virtually impervious to any force on planet Earth...theoretically."

"Well, that's good to know," James sarcastically muttered under his breath.

Stick took no notice of James, "Furthermore, this weapon is perfectly balanced and should be quite easy for you to handle with your level of expertise. Before long you should feel it almost as if it was an extension of your own body. And as you can see, it is large enough to fully protect you, and one or two other normal sized people, at any given time. It is, quite possibly, the finest weapon ever wielded by human hands."

So awed was Steve, as Stick handed over the shield to him for the first time, that he was totally incapable of speech.

"And what about me?" James asked, disdainfully. "You just gonna slap me on a pair of camos and hope I don't die too quickly?"

Stick chuckled, "Unfortunately kid, we never got to administer the serum to you, so we had to improvise your gig. As you can see, your uniform is done mostly in black, including your pants, shirt, belt, and small mask. Instead of Steve's one of a kind, custom built, defensive weapon, you have been issued a black ops chest harness, which can accommodate a dozen different firearms and explosives, as well as small hand to hand combat weapons, whenever you go into battle. And with the training you've received, that makes you a one man army even without any special serum enhancements."

James looked down at his feet, bashfully, "Well, I guess that's a start."

Wearing a rare expression of pride and sadness upon his face, Stick took a good long look at his two former recruits holding their uniforms and weapons, "I know this isn't how we planned it, kids, but that's how life usually goes, believe it or not. You two were supposed to be the first of a small army of super soldiers that were going to change the world, and now that responsibility falls solely on you guys. Don't let the pressure get to you. Just take one minute at a time, do your best, and let your training take over. If you can do that, I promise you'll make it out alive."

Stick was done with the pep talk, "Now I want both of you to get four hours of shuteye, and then we'll start the mission. It is imperative that we locate Johann Shmidt, and that we do it without alerting anyone. This is a covert operation, so we'll be using codenames only on the shorthand."

"Codenames, sir?" Steve asked.

Stick nodded, "That's right, kid. When in uniform codenames are to be used at all times. Steve Rogers: codename Captain America, and James Barnes: codenamed the Patriot. Remember that, and I won't have you shot when you return to base. Now get outta here and grab some sleep."

Steve and James walked out of the room slowly, their brains trying to absorb all the new information they'd just been privy too, "So every time I call your name, I'm supposed to say 'Captain America?" complained James. "That's too freakin' long, pal. Can't I just keep callin' you Scab?"

"Only if you want me calling you Bucky for the rest of your life," Steve quipped.

This got James' instant support, "Aye aye Cap'n. Just say the word and I'll call you whatever you want. Suzy, for instance. I think you'd make a good Suzy."

Trailing behind them, the only thing going through Stick's mind was that he must be crazy for putting the future of his career and country in the hands of these two. God save them all.