The Age of Marvels: Chapter Twenty-Nine
Captain America
and the
Invaders
Part Twenty-Nine
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 hero 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.
New Jersey
The home of Mr. Barnes
"...snrk...GRUNT...SSNORKGLBLG!"
Colonel Fury shot straight up from the couch, "Yaahh! Not in the face!" he shrieked, jolted out of his dream by the unusually loud snoring coming from Mr. Barnes, who was sound asleep in his chair.
Fury shot the old man a dirty look, "How can you sleep through all that racket, Barnes? You sound like a sick moose slowly being strangled to death."
Sighing, the Colonel sat back down and began ruffling through Steve Rogers' old letters, trying to find where he'd left off before he began drifting to sleep himself. With a cross look on his face, he checked his watch. He only had a few hours until the sun would begin to rise. He didn't even want to think about how he would feel during work later that day, but he had no choice. It was important that he learn everything he could about Captain America as soon as possible, so he had no other option but to continue his research.
Fury tried blinking his eye to clear his vision in an effort to keep himself awake a little longer, and then doggedly dove back into the letter.
August 21, 1944
Dear James,
Things have finally begun to settle down around here, although I fear this may be only the quiet before the storm. This morning I escorted Commander Tanguy to a meeting with the leader of the Nazi forces, General von Choltitz, where they discussed a temporary truce. This strategy may sound absurd, but I can understand the reasoning behind it.
Despite the overwhelming odds, with assistance from myself and the Howling Commandos, the French Resistance has performed admirably over the past few days. As you know, passion and bloodlust can only fuel a battle for so long, but the determination and courage demonstrated by the people of Paris has been awe inspiring. They simply refuse to give up their city to the Germans, and it is because of their unceasing fortitude that we seem to have reclaimed much of it.
The Nazis have been driven back to a number of isolated strongholds within Paris, however, the Resistance lacks the supplies, ammunition, and heavy artillery to strike the final blow to their oppressors. Ironically, the Krouts find themselves in a similar position, since they lack the manpower to launch another attack, as any offensive they might attempt would soon be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers that Tanguy now has at his disposal.
The men's spirits are high right now, as many of them believe that the battle is all but won...but I don't know if I agree. Something doesn't feel right to me. It's all been too easy. I know that doesn't make a lot of sense, considering everything we've been through, but I've fought long enough in this war to know how the Nazis work, and I can sense that they're up to something. Well, all we can do is pitch in by gathering more supplies and reinforcing the trenches and other strategic points as best we can, right? Maybe this ceasefire will turn out for the best.
I've got enough on my mind as it is. Peggy hasn't said three words to me since what happened at the fort. I asked Jack if he knew what was going on, but he just grunted something about how it wasn't his problem. That man has the social skills of a tree stump.
It's weird, though. Peggy doesn't appear to be mad at me, but she ignores and avoids me all the same. I'm not sure what I did to put her off in the first place, and I wonder if I'll ever find out. If there's one thing in this world that I know nothing about, it's women. God knows I'd rather face a dozen angry Nazis than have to stare down the barrel of that scowl of hers any day of the week.
Hope things are going better for you, James, I'll...
Steve was startled by a knock at the door. Quickly putting his pencil down and folding the letter so that it could not be read, he told his visitor to come inside, only to find himself shocked once again as none other than Peggy Carter entered. Eyes wide with something resembling panic, Steve immediately stood up, painfully aware of how awkward he looked.
"Good Lord Steve, there's a girl in your room!" he thought to himself, a nervous smile playing across his face. "What do I do? What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?"
"Peggy!" Steve managed to squeak. "Uh...what can I do to you? OH, I'm sorry, I meant what can I do with you, FOR YOU, FOR YOU! What can I do for y..."
"Shut up, Steve," Peggy interrupted with her usual impatience. "I'm not here to shout at you."
Steve had to admit he was a little confused, "But you sound like you're here to shou..."
"Well I'm not!" Peggy shouted, her angry voice instantly silencing the super soldier.
Steve tried to ignore Peggy's amazing golden hair as it almost seemed to shimmer even in the dim light of the room, and instead stared dismally at the floor. So much for his not so secret fantasies of romance. This was the last time he was ever going to let himself fall for someone...
"Look, this is hard for me to say," Peggy started, cutting off Steve's bitter thoughts. "But I can't put it off any more...I'm sorry."
"P-pardon?" Steve asked, stuttering in his surprise.
Peggy Carter was apologizing to him? Clearly something was wrong with this scenario. Was it possible that the real Peggy Carter had been kidnapped and replaced by an extremely untalented German spy? What was going on here?
"Don't make me repeat myself Rogers, this is hard enough already," snapped Peggy, a vein in her forehead throbbing with irritation.
"I just...I don't understand..." Steve replied, sinking back into his chair.
Peggy sighed, the anger melting out of her as she walked across the room and slumped down into a sitting position on Steve's bed, "Okay Steve, the truth is that it was unfair of me to blame you for what happened at the Fort de Romainville. You had nothing to do with it and your country certainly didn't either. I've spent the last week trying to show you that the French can handle our own problems, but then the first time we encountered something I had trouble swallowing I blamed everyone else...though why I blamed you most of all is beyond me. I'm sorry."
Steve looked up from the floor and into Peggy's eyes, and for the first time he saw a genuine kindness there that he'd never seen before, "It's okay, Peggy. It was hard for all of us."
"Thanks, Steve," Peggy replied, in a soft voice that she was unfamiliar with.
An awkward pause enveloped the room as both its occupants avoided looking at each other.
"Well, I'd better go," Steve finally said, getting up and grabbing his shield before heading for the door. "Jack's gonna need my help moving supplies to reinforce the northern barricades or there'll be hell to pa..."
Before he could finish, Peggy shot up from the bed, crossed the room, and placed a hand firmly on his shoulder, "I know you like me, Steve."
Steve was so shocked and frightened that his brain had instantly turned into a static filled panic void, "Wha..uhh...buhh...?" he eloquently managed to blurt. "But I..."
Now Peggy was standing right next to him, her face only inches from his own, a soft, almost pleading expression in her infinitely blue eyes, "And I want you to know that I like you, too."
Now Steve's brain wasn't working at all. At some point he became aware that his jaw was still moving up and down as if he was talking, but no sound was coming out. He felt just like he had when he was a little kid being thrust into the ocean for the first time when he learned how to swim. If only James was around to tell him what he should do. Wait, he didn't want anyone around to see him like this! What was he thinking?
It was while Steve was in the middle of his mental maelstrom that Peggy spoke again, "You have to understand, Steve. I haven't felt this way about anyone since before the war, and it makes me uncomfortable. I want to take my time with this so we can figure out where we want to go from here, but I know we might not have that time. Like I said, we're in the middle of a war, and I'm afraid if we don't take this chance, right now, while we've got it, we might not be around long enough to get another one. Do you know what I mean?"
Steve knew exactly what she meant, and he tried to tell her so, but his brain and his mouth were no longer operating on the same wavelength, "But...uhh...I don't understand. Why me?"
Peggy replied sarcastically, "Well, it's definitely not your charming way with words, or your super-sized, garish, American flag costume either...although you do fill it out quite nicely," she added, biting her lip and placing her hand against Steve's chest, causing him to inwardly gawk with a mixture of emotions that he was utterly unfamiliar with. "But if you want to know the truth, I think it has something to do with the fact that even though you've seen every horror that this war has to offer, you refuse to let it change you. There isn't a soldier in the Resistance that hasn't let this war turn them into a jaded, cynical, pessimistic shell of themselves, including me...but somehow you haven't."
Shocked beyond words, Steve could only stare into Peggy's face, which was now so close that he could feel her warm breath on his cheek, "You have a strength inside that has nothing to do with whatever serum they gave you," she said, her eyes looking deep into his. "There's a goodness in you that I desperately need to know. It's almost like you can still see that bright future that the rest of us are too dead to see, and I want to be able to find that future again, Steve. When I look at you, sometimes it feels like it's almost within reach..." she said, her voice slowly fading to nothing.
Steve tried to respond, but his voice completely failed him. The rest of the room seemed to fade away and all he could feel was her body against his, her hand on his chest, her warmth intermingled with his own, as they grew ever closer. His eyes closed and his heart beat painfully in his chest as the scent of her grew strong around him. For the first time since he could remember, there was no war, no pain, no dread, no terrible fear, no death...there was nothing but the two of them, sharing an instant in time so precious and special that it could never be again.
And then she swore as their foreheads unexpectedly bonked clumsily together, instantly dissolving the atmosphere and leaving behind an irritatingly painful awkwardness.
"What the hell was that, Rogers? What happened to all that famous super soldier coordination you had?"
"I'm sorry!" Steve shouted, his face turning red. "I've never kissed a girl before! They didn't exactly cover that in basic training!"
"You've never kissed a girl before?" Peggy shouted back, unbelieving. "How is that even possible? Just how old are you anyway?"
"It's nothing to be ashamed of!" Steve defensively replied, his voice rising an octave higher than usual. "You wouldn't know it to look at me now, but before the serum I was...uh...a bit more petite than the average guy."
"Petite?" repeated Peggy, her forehead vein making another appearance.
"I guess you could say I was a bit scrawny!" Steve clarified, angrily. "It's not my fault I couldn't get a date! Girls don't exactly flock around a guy who collects number two pencils and spends his spare time sketching scenes from Mark Twain books!"
"What?!" Peggy replied, now almost shrieking. "I don't even know how to respond to that! What are you..."
But she never got to finish her sentence, "Excuse me, sirs," said Dugan as he popped open the door and poked his head in, bowler hat, handlebar mustache, and all. "Just thought you'd like ta know that they can hear you all the way down th' hall. The boys are takin' bets on what base you'll get too, if ya want in on it."
Peggy and Steve were instantly silenced as their faces turned an unhealthy shade of red.
"Oh, an' Captain Fury wants ya topside ASAP," Dugan added, turning back into the hall. "Better hurry, too. He said you were supposed ta be there ten minutes ago, an' if he has to wait much longer, he's gonna force feed you your own shield."
Steve eyed his shield cautiously.
Dugan shrugged adding, "His words, not mine," and left.
Peggy's face still boasted an unnatural shade of pink as she straightened her uniform in preparation for work, "We better get out there, Steve. We don't want to keep Jack waiting."
"Yeah," Steve agreed, trying not to betray the uncertainty he was feeling.
What if he'd just ruined his one chance with Peggy? Would there ever be another opportunity to tell her how he really felt? What was he going to do?
But before he could say a word he looked up to find her smiling at him in a way he'd never seen before, "Don't worry, Rogers. I haven't given up on you yet."
And before he could do a thing, she had turned around and kissed him on the cheek before dashing out the door, leaving the stunned super soldier with his mouth hanging open, staring with disbelief out into the hallway.
Steve had been worried that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the day's tasks, considering everything that had just happened between himself and Peggy back in his room, but the devastation of Paris caused by the battle outside proved depressingly effective at clearing his head. The rebellion had been going on for days now, and the piles of rubble and blood soaked remains littering the streets tended to have a sobering effect on even the most hardened soldier. And Steve found his thoughts dwelling on the war as he entered the transport that was waiting for him. After a short trip through what was left of the city he met up with Jack and Peggy where the Resistance had established their front line, which was directly facing one of last remaining German strongholds.
"'Bout time you showed up," Jack grumbled, clearly unhappy. "I was afraid you weren't comin'. What happened? Get tied up havin' tea with th' Commander?"
Steve restrained himself from throwing Fury a sour look as he exited the transport, "What do you have for me, Jack?"
Fury led Steve up to the roof of the nearest building, where the Howlers were bustling about, busy organizing and storing supplies and ammunition, "Well, we're just putting in th' finishing touches on our new barricades. We figure we got th' Nazis fairly well surrounded by now with all th' new trenches. We may not have th' firepower to end this, but chances are we can lay siege to most of these strongholds 'til reinforcements arrive in a few days. The men feel pretty good about this, Cap."
"You don't say?" Peggy interrupted, frowning. "Well then why are these supply crates just sitting in that pile way over there? We might as well just have the postman deliver these right to the Germans. Let me get these stored away."
"By all means," Jack said, moving out of Peggy's way and dragging Steve after him.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Fury addressed the super soldier, "I don't like this, Steve. We know the Germans are in there, hiding behind the walls of their fort, an' we can tell that they're moving around, preparing for something, but we have no idea what it might be. Something's goin' on, Steve, an' I don't like it."
"I agree," Steve said, a deep frown on his face. "But there's nothing we can do for now but continue with our current strategy. My gut tells me we're in for more action before reinforcements arrive, but the smartest thing to do is continue digging these trenches around the German fortifications in an effort to surround and paralyze them. Hopefully this will be all it takes to keep them isolated in their strongholds, but if not, we should be prepared for a possible enemy offensive."
"If you say so..." Jack replied, uneasily. "Wait, did you hear that?"
Steve's eyes quickly darted towards the makeshift German fortress across the street as a dim rumbling could be heard by all the assembled Resistance militia. He could feel the familiar stirrings of fear welling in his stomach as his heart froze in his chest. The rumbling within the enemy camp grew louder and louder while the men clutched their weapons fearfully, all activity stopped as they wondered what new horrors awaited them.
Suddenly the doors to the stronghold burst open as a cloud of smoke and dust poured from within. The French forces readied their weapons and crouched within their trenches, trying to present the smallest targets possible. With a shout of defiance, they opened fire on the enemy, bullets blazing trails through the thick smoke which hid their targets. But they soon found that their fierce onslaught had achieved absolutely nothing, as three enormous tanks rolled out from the base, cannons already leveled at the Resistance's positions.
Captain America wasted no time scrambling up from his position on the roof above, "Retreat! Retreat!" he shouted, waving his shield above him to catch the attention of the soldiers.
But he knew it was already too late. By the time the French had risen to their feet, the tanks had already taken aim. Their first volley was enough to completely scatter the French ranks, blasting enormous craters in the trenches that they had spent hours and hours digging and destroying whatever hope of cover they had provided. The entire front line had been routed in a matter of seconds, and Steve could only stare on in horror as the scattered remains of the soldiers came under fire by a column of German troops who were filing out of the base from behind the protective cover of their tanks.
As Jack set about communicating with his Commandos to coordinate a counterstrike in order to cover the retreating Resistance, Steve combed the scene below for any sign of Peggy. She had been down there when the tanks emerged, busy moving supplies, and he could only pray that she was okay. There! He spied her taking refuge behind one of the buildings on the other side of the block. Steve breathed a sigh of relief. She had been smart to duck through the cramped alleyways of the city to avoid the oncoming German lines instead of fleeing through the wider streets, as most of the Resistance forces had. She would be safe there until the rest of the Howlers met up with her.
But this was not the time to worry about Peggy, Steve decided, hoisting his shield resolutely. His job now was to cover the Resistance retreat until they could decide what to do next. The German Panzer tanks were a force to be reckoned with, to be sure. Just one blast from their main cannons could level an entire building or wipe out a concentrated squad of troops with little effort, and three of them presented quite a challenge indeed; but what they offered in raw firepower they lacked in speed and agility, as they could be quite slow and cumbersome in the narrow streets of Paris. A determined look crossed Steve's face. He was positive that he and the Howlers could slow them down until the rest of the Resistance arrived. He still wasn't sure what the Nazis were trying to pull, but they had definitely overplayed their hand, and now he was going to shut them down.
But just as Cap prepared to leap from the building onto one of the advancing tanks, a hand shot out and held him back, "Steve, don't," Jack said, his other hand still holding the backpack phone he had been speaking into.
"What are you talking about, soldier?" Steve asked, wresting himself away from Fury's grasp. "Get on your feet. If we can slow them down until reinforcements arrive we can put a stop to this right now."
Jack shook his head, "That's th' thing, Steve. Reinforcements ain't coming. This isn't an isolated incident. Th' Germans coordinated this attack throughout the whole city. Every Nazi stronghold in Paris is on th' move, led by a squad of Panzers. They're comin' right for us."
Steve was speechless. How could they not have seen this coming? What were they going to do now?
"They got us good, Steve," was all Jack could say, his gaze sinking down to the floor.
The French Resistance had been outgunned since the beginning. The Nazis had always possessed more firepower and better training than the Parisian citizens who opposed them, so the Resistance had focused on overwhelming the enemy with sheer numbers. That strategy had worked fine so far, but that was all over now.
The Nazis had broken their truce and had hit the Resistance with a surprise attack, coordinating a massive offensive using nearly all of their remaining forces and spearheaded by multiple squads of Panzer tanks, which they must have been stockpiling and saving throughout the war for just such an occasion. Against a trained and well supplied unit of Allied forces, this wouldn't have been quite such a dire threat, but the Paris Resistance lacked the proper equipment and firepower to effectively stop the Panzers.
Steve had been counting on a large, united front of Resistance troops to eventually put a stop to the small group of tanks that had attacked his position, but against this sudden, overwhelming wave of opposition, all the Resistance could do was wait to be crushed as the Panzers rolled over them on their way to victory. General von Choltitz had always said that he would rather burn Paris to the ground than lose it to the Allied forces, and now he was in a perfect position to do just that.
Steve turned to Fury, a fire burning in his eyes, "Jack, gather the Howlers and get 'em mobilized. I want..."
Fury just shook his head as he faced the ground, "It's over, Steve. We lost. All we can do right now is evacuate as many people as we can. There's no way..."
Steve felt a passionate anger sear through his body as he roughly jerked Fury off his knees, "There's always a way, Fury!" he shouted, shaking his friend in his ferocity. "We need to buy as much time as we can for the Resistance to retreat and regroup, understand? We pick off the Panzers one by one and delay them as much as possible! I didn't come this far only to get mowed down by a bunch of Krauts just when victory was in sight, and neither did you! Now get your sorry rear up and get moving or by God I'll make sure the Nazis are the least of your worries!"
That seemed to snap Fury out of his daze, "Okay Commandos, Captain America says we got a job to do, so let's not disappoint him! Now grab yer gear and lets go!"
Seconds later the roof was deserted as Captain America and the Howling Commandos made war throughout the streets of Paris outnumbered, outgunned, and all the while knowing that they were fighting a losing battle.
Eight hours later found Captain America standing resolutely in front of the Resistance headquarters, the Grand Palais, grimly waiting for the inevitable. The Palais itself was an enormous, magnificent structure, which had stood there for decades and had been used before the war as a museum which knew no equal. Wide columns and grand windows defined its exterior while great statues had dotted the grounds. Now however, these same statues and columns had all but been ground to dust, and the once proud visage of the palace had fallen into ruin. The Resistance may have called it home once, but now it had been transformed into nothing but a dismal coffin used to house the dead that had been piled inside, and soon, it would be reduced to even less than that.
Captain America wiped away a drop of blood that had trickled down into his eye. Ignoring the many wounds and injuries he had accumulated during the day's fierce fighting, he tried to concentrate instead on the coming conflict, and not the failure which had marked the day's battle so far.
The Resistance was on its last legs. Despite their best efforts and cunning strategies, they just simply didn't have the firepower to make any kind of stand against the onslaught of the Panzer tanks and their support. Captain America and the Howlers had thrown everything they had against the Nazi offensive lines, but even they had failed to deter the Germans enough to save most of the French forces.
At one point Steve had managed to take a tank down single-handedly, by first sneaking behind the unit and dispatching the column of supporting stormtroopers. Then he had climbed on the Panzer and used his shield to pry open the access hatch. After that, engaging the three men inside and disabling the tank had been easy...until he had come under fire from the remaining two Panzers and nearly died in the process. So unless he counted the non lethal but incredibly painful bullet wounds he'd suffered, he considered the experience a victory...although it was clearly too dangerous to try a second time.
Jack Fury and his men had succeeded in destroying a second Panzer by raiding most of the Resistance's supply of mines and carpeting one of Paris' major streets with them, concealing them under a layer of light debris. When a squad of tanks had rolled over them, the ensuing explosions had totally destroyed one, and nearly crippled another. Of course, with the extremely limited supply of explosives the Resistance boasted, that was the last time the Howlers could attempt that strategy.
Later that day, pooling their manpower and strength, Captain America and the Howlers collapsed a damaged building on top of a passing squad of tanks, which succeeded in destroying the lead Panzer, but proved ultimately ineffective against the remaining pair. It had been a depressing sight watching the squad slowly back up only to continue on their way through an alternate route, knowing that at best they had merely managed to delay the enemy for another few minutes.
Altogether the Resistance had only succeeded in destroying about a third of the Nazi forces, and barely managed to make any kind of coordinated retreat as they were mowed down across the width and breadth of the city. The Germans obliterated any pockets of opposition they encountered, and left nothing but smoldering ruins behind. By evening, the city had been reduced to a smoking pile of debris as the Nazis had slowly advanced across Paris, routing the French soldiers along the way as they inevitably approached the Grand Palais, the Resistance's headquarters, and their final objective.
Steve knew that if the Palace was destroyed, it would mean the end of the FFI. The early days of the battle had swung in the Resistance's favor, but they had still been costly. This new German advance had already crippled any chance the Resistance had of putting an end to the Nazi occupation by themselves. Already they had lost over a thousand soldiers that day alone, their bodies littering the streets of the city and painting it red with their blood. The Palace had been their rallying point and symbol of whatever hope they had left, and also served as their ammunition and supply depot, and if it was destroyed they would lose their last chance of opposing the Germans and the Nazis would have free reign to destroy the entire city, decimating what remained of the civilian population until the Allied reinforcements arrived...if they ever made it at all.
But Steve refused to let that happen. He had rallied what he could of the Resistance survivors in front of the Grand Palais and barricaded the doors as well as the street in front of it. Peggy Carter, Jack Fury, and the Howling Commandos were stationed up on the roof, in order to provide backup to the small but dedicated group of soldiers below. Weary and wounded though they may be, Steve was determined that if this was to be their last stand, they would make the Germans pay for every inch of ground they took. He would be damned if he was going to just hand the city over to the Nazis after the sacrifices of all the men and women who had died defending it.
As the sound of battle grew closer and closer, Steve turned and looked to the Palace roof. Barely visible against the gathering dusk, Jack and Peggy nodded to their friend, assuring him that they were ready. As the city around him faded in the deepening gloom, lit only by the scattered flames which illuminated the streets amidst dancing shadows and the macabre corpses which still haunted the alleys, Steve reflected that this was not the first time he had faced impossible odds; and right there he made a promise to himself that at the very least, he would make sure that Paris was still standing at sunrise. With whatever failing power Steve still had at his disposal, he could at least ensure that much.
Captain America's attention was suddenly caught by almost half a dozen French soldiers rounding the corner of the street ahead, running as fast as they possibly could in a desperate, panicked effort to reach the hollow safety of the Grand Palais. An explosion rocked the ground as a massive shell slammed into a building just behind the small group as screams of fear and pain reverberated through the evening air.
And then the sight that they had all dreaded slowly rolled into view...six Panzer tanks, accompanied by several dozen Nazi stormtroopers, rounded the corner just as the Resistance survivors dashed behind the FFI lines, still screaming in terror. Behind them, the tanks ponderously made their way down the street, waiting to fire until their new targets were within range.
Cap wordlessly raised his hand into the air, indicating that the men under his command were to wait until the order was given to spring into action. He was trying to calm their nerves, but he knew he wasn't kidding anyone. Everyone present was aware of the situation, and what was going to happen next. As far as the Frenchmen were concerned, they had resigned themselves to the fact that they were beaten, that none of them were getting out alive, that they were all dead men. But they were still French, and they would be damned if they surrendered now. They weren't giving up their city without a fight, even if that fight claimed their very lives.
By now the tanks were almost in range. Steve trembled with anticipation as he fought back the fear and impatience which threatened to overwhelm him. He knew what the dire consequences of his next order would be, but his men would have attempted it with or without his assistance. At least with his help there might be some survivors. The Resistance forces felt that they had no choice in the matter... and in all honestly, they probably didn't. If this was to be their last stand, the least they could do was to make it a memorable one.
As the Panzers leveled their cannons at the Grand Palais, the last bastion of freedom for the people of Paris, Captain America raised his triangular shield as high as he could, light glinting off its surface, as a mighty roar echoed from his lips, "Charge!"
Gunshots ripped through the air as the survivors of the French Forces of the Interior dashed towards the German lines. The world around him seemed to fade away as Steve reflected upon what a desperate strategy they had employed. To the casual observer, charging a group of tanks might appear to be suicide, but in reality, the Panzers lacked any sort of short range weaponry, which is why they required a troop escort during their missions. Unfortunately, while the point blank fighting which the Resistance had chosen allowed them to escape instant death by tank cannons, it still exposed them to the aforementioned Nazi troop escort, and since the French were now themselves outnumbered and fatigued, at best they had only delayed their own doom. But when Steve had reluctantly suggested this strategy earlier that afternoon, pointing out that they would at least take more Nazis with them this way, he had met with unanimous approval from his allies. And that was how he found himself leaping behind German lines, the success of their fatalistic charge bought with the expert cover fire of the Howling Commandos who were still perched atop the Palace, slamming his shield into the first wave of enemy combatants.
The next few minutes were a nightmare of blood, shouting, pain, and death. Captain America fought with a ferocity that had completely overwhelmed him, as he leveled whole groups of soldiers with lightning speed. He set upon his foes like a force of nature, destroying all in his path. Over the last few months he had become so accustomed to the horrors of war, to the way his body moved and flowed as he waged battle after battle, that he was now able to tune out the shrieks of fear and the piles of blood-slicked corpses, to the point that he had finally become what Project Rebirth had always meant for him to be...the perfect warrior. All the horrors, all the sacrifices and heartache and endless pain and fear, had all served as the fire to forge the soldier he had become. He only hoped, as he mindlessly dealt out the death that he strove to save his friends from, that it had all been worth the cost he had paid.
No longer could he look in the mirror and recognize the face that stared back at him. No longer could he see the bright eyed hopefulness of the innocent boy who just wanted to leave the world a better place than he had found it. The naive kid who had prayed to one day leave the dingy streets he had called home had been buried deep under the weight of the compromises, tragedies, and suffering that the war had heaped upon the soul of Steve Rogers. And now here he was, in the ruined streets of Paris, savagely striking down those who would seek to destroy the lives of anyone they deemed inferior to their race. Steve was doing what he'd always dreamed of, serving his country, he just never imagined the terrible cost he would have to pay.
And suddenly Steve had run out of bodies to strike. Panting heavily, bent over in exhaustion, Captain America looked around at the scene he had created. He was surrounded by dozens of dead Germans, their crushed and crimson corpses encircling him in a grotesque landscape of the dead. A wave of nausea enveloped Steve as he gazed, paralyzed with revulsion, at his own blood soaked hands. His shield dripped crimson as he gagged, fighting back the vomit that rose from his heaving stomach, consumed with the knowledge that the men he had just killed hadn't died in a fight, they had died in a slaughter.
"Who am I?" he asked himself over and over in his head as he vomited right there in the street. "Whoever I am now, it certainly isn't Steve Rogers..."
And as he rose from his crouching position, wiping the soiled dribble from his chin, the sounds and visions of war were upon him once again. Turning to the noise of maddened shrieking coming from behind him, he saw that the battle was nearly over.
The situation could not have been worse, Steve realized, once more readying his shield for action despite the blood still dripping from it. The Resistance had been forced back to the front of the tanks, which were just repositioning themselves to fire on the Palace. The Howlers were trying to buy the ragged remains of the French militia enough time to retreat to the shadowy confines of the city, but the soldiers wouldn't have it. They were determined to die fighting.
Steve knew that if he was to act, it would have to be now. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment where he could make a difference, and maybe, if he was lucky, even save some lives.
Running as hard as he could, pushing his superhuman strength and endurance to the limit, Steve darted back to the front lines. He could see the tank cannons lowering, and knowing that he had less than an instant to spare, Steve forced himself to run faster than he ever had before.
With an animalistic grunt, Steve raised his shield to cover himself, and leaped directly in front of the nearest cannon just as the deafening thunder of fire exploded from the barrel. Time seemed to slow down around him as Captain America felt the impact of the cannon shell against his shield. Sound seemed muted and his vision blurred as his brain failed to process the pain and the speed with which he was blown away from the tank. The enormous cannon shell which would have blown away the last of the FFI soldiers had been deflected, and was now spiraling away across the courtyard, while Steve's battered body was propelled through the air in the opposite direction. The rest of the fight melted away as for one moment of surreal terror, Cap soared high across the courtyard, incapable of comprehending how much agony he was in or how close to death he was, before he smashed through the side of a building, the rest of the wall collapsing down around him.
It only took about a minute for Steve to regain consciousness, but it might as well have been an eternity. Laying amidst the wreckage of the collapsed brick wall, staring with unseeing, blurry eyes up at the ceiling, he felt like he was drowning under water. The world around him was leaning at a crazy angle and his ears were ringing. Things weren't where they were supposed to be and sounds appeared filtered and unusually far away.
Steve eventually tried to stand, but he found that he was too dizzy to even sit up straight. His body had been pummeled into an almost unrecognizable lump of flesh, bone, and blood, and the best he could manage was to slump against the debris which still half covered him and watch the end of the battle uselessly, unable to help as his friends were mowed down before his very eyes.
He watched as the last of the freedom fighters were killed, their limp bodies falling to the cobblestone pavement beneath him. He looked on as the German troopers retreated to safety behind the tanks as the Panzers raised their cannons towards the Grand Palais. He saw Peggy Carter, Jack Fury, and the Howling Commandos firing at the armored transports with renewed vigor, their hatred and anger burning in their eyes in an attempt to drown the impossible fear which was clutching their hearts. And he watched, a silent scream caught in his throat, as the tanks fired on the Palace with a thunder that seemed to drown the world.
The Grand Palais, the headquarters of the Resistance, the last bastion of freedom for the people of Paras, collapsed under Panzer fire. Smoke billowed forth from the grounds as the beams and walls fell, the ceiling gave way, and billows of fire erupted from within the windows. Glass shattered and sprayed forth upon the surrounding streets like rain as the tanks fired again and again, smashing the once proud building to smoldering pieces. The screams of the Commandos were utterly swallowed by the shrieking death throes of the Palace as all Steve could do was stare in horror as his whole world seemed to collapse in ruins around him.
The Panzers were still firing as Steve felt his head begin to loll to the side and his vision began swimming again. He could feel his hope fading away, like a candle whose flame was just beginning to sputter out of existence, as his eyes grew darker and darker until he was claimed by nothingness.
