Translations from Norwegian:
Jeg beklager – I am sorry
Jeg vet – I know
HYDRA Base – the Alps
1942
Her skin, porcelain-white, was almost pearlescent in the harsh white of the test chamber. Her caramel-colored curls pooled around her shoulders, an intricate web of wiring coiling about her neck and collar-bones, spreading in thin, alien tendrils climbing down her arms and torso. Her breaths were shaky and irregular; her frame quaked as she exhaled. Small, spherical, sensory patches dotted the surface of her partially bare flesh, trembling and pulsating as they picked up her heartbeat.
Silently, he noted how angelic her beauty was, amid the cold and artificial environment. Expelling a cloud of thick smoke, he probed gingerly at his mask, realizing the irony of his observation.
He wasn't at all angry with her– something that managed to surprise him slightly. After all, the girl had nearly gotten herself killed twice now, expressly disobeying his orders and making a complete and utter nuisance out of herself. And yet, for some reason, he felt almost disinclined to punish her.
Rather, it was the torrent of questions that now plagued his mind that he was most consumed by. Uncertainty was an emotion he rarely if ever experienced now, and the feeling was twisting at his insides, gnawing at his heart with an unrelenting fervency. Thinking in itself had become a laborious effort, his energies dwindling down to the faintest flicker.
He rolled his cigarette-holder between his lips, closing his eyes for a moment, as if the mundane action would somehow clear his muddled brain. And yet, the visions would not leave his eyes, emblazoned upon his retinas in the most vivid detail.
Like some raving lunatic, she had stood wild-eyed and completely disoriented, overcome by a strong, consuming trance. When she spoke, her own, true voice was a thin, wispy film, lost amid the multi-layered, rich and ethereal tones of someone – some being, some strange deity – clearly of divine lineage.
And the tesseract – how it had rested in her palm, all but a thin glove separating it from her bare flesh. Years of tireless research had proved that it had been over a millennium since any single individual, moreover one of mortal ancestry, had been able to physically bear the cube, to experience the weight of its power, to be able to manifest that power within them – without being instantaneously consumed.
And yet, there stood a wretched snip of a child, holding it up so simply and effortlessly, as if it were merely a useless piece of plastic.
Trembling, his gloved fingers dug fervently into the silicon material lining his jawbone, a sudden twinge of envy jarring his frame. Admittedly, he grew vexed at having allowed himself to become overtaken by such a childish characteristic as jealousy, but he couldn't help it.
Why Mina? Why someone so inexperienced and with so little knowledge of the artifact anyhow? She'd only known what the tesseract was for perhaps 48 hours, if that, and the name alone was hardly information of real substance. It was such an enigmatic object, constantly changing and altering its properties – it had taken years of devoted studying for him to have come this far in understanding its capabilities.
And yet, it had chosen her.
The notion mystified him. And yet, the image played over in his head, as if a broken newsreel.
XXX
Several hours earlier…
It was as if she were being sucked into a dreamscape – completely and utterly disconnected from everything that was rapidly occurring around her.
The guards flooding in – orders being shouted, guns cocked and aimed, the spray of bullets ricocheting off the metal surfaces of the laboratory, the cacophony of gunfire and the shrill ringing of metal striking metal – it all seemed so distant, close enough for her to see with clarity, but too far away to do any harm.
She knew distinctly that she was in danger – and yet, she didn't move, didn't want to move. She didn't feel compelled to run, compelled to defend herself.
Nothing seemed to hold any meaning – any response at all felt almost superfluous. If only she closed her eyes – it would be just her and the divine, mesmerizing light of the cube, cocooning her with its warmth and power, separating her from life itself, suspending her animation.
As long as that beautiful jewel remained in her grasp – she had no need to fear anything, no need to think, no need to feel, no need to exist. This small object – it was life and death, destruction and renewal.
There was nothing else.
Only the sudden removal of this object was enough to jar her from the powerful pull – long metal clamps glinted in the eerie light, the muffled shouts behind an alien-looking mask echoing off the walls –
Tendrils of cobalt light shot down her arms, coiling like tensed serpents, sending the masked guard flying into the metal wall, sparks flickering madly against the material of his uniform, his limbs convulsing with the strength of the electrocution.
The clamps clattered across the floor, the tesseract rattling against their iron grip, still pulsing with vivid light.
Slowly, she glanced down at her open palms, leftover sparks still surging about their now empty surface.
Her head grew heavy, her surroundings blurring together as her knees buckled beneath her, as if her body was only now realizing its weight. The security, the power… it spilled from her body, as if blood pouring from thousands of open wounds.
The steel floor rose up to meet her, her brain slamming against the wall of her skull, a sickening wave of nausea overwhelming her, her throat tightening, her stomach churning.
Her eyes flickered, her sight lapsing in and out of clarity.
Only the pristine shine of SS-issued jackboots, looming over her, shone clearly amid the blurred images before her. Distantly, she heard his voice, a low, grating rasp that sent chills coursing down her spinal cord.
"Get her up." His tone was flat.
Nodding obediently, two guards rushed to either side of her, hesitating only a moment, both pausing to glance at the state of their counterpart.
"Mach schnell!" there was a certain measure of venom in his words, his teeth gritted, his gloved fists clenched at his sides. One of the guards jumped slightly, but his partner was quick to oblige, yanking her up by the shoulder, the other stepping in at her other side.
She felt the toes of her heavy combat boots dragging against the floor, the leather material of the uniform suddenly feeling as if it weighed a thousand pounds. Her body trembled within the confines of the leather padding, a certain feeling of fear trickling through her veins. She cast a nervous glance toward the tesseract, still quivering and pulsing within its iron holder.
His gaze followed hers, and with some irritation, he barked an order at yet another masked guard, who scurried off to carry out the task of retrieving the cube, carefully placing it back within its holding device. She stared for a moment as the blinding blue glow dwindled down to only the slightest of light, her body involuntarily leaning forward in the soldiers' grasp, the tesseract's absorbing pull drawing her towards it.
Her shoulders were wrenched back almost instantaneously, her teeth gnashing down against her tongue painfully. A single bead of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, mixing with the sweat that soaked her face. Breathing heavily, she looked upwards, her eyes meeting the piercing azure tone of his irises.
Her eyes darted about, seeking even the slightest trace of emotion in his face, but there was none. She needed something – anything to confirm his feelings – anger, disappointment; she gladly would have taken his rage over the blank and lifeless stare he now seemed to be directing toward her. It was almost as if she was nothing more than an obstruction in his path of site – and that he was trying in vain to look straight through her.
Tears brimmed in her eyes, her throat dry. Say something. Do something. Anything.
She could feel his gaze boring into her, examining her as if she were merely a specimen under a microscope.
Her lips trembled, her entire body shaking beneath the grip of her captors. Anguish or sadness, fear or anger… she didn't know what to feel or what to think. Everything was muddled – hazy and undefined – worlds apart from the firm security of the cube, the strong sensation of reassurance.
"Jeg beklager." The Norwegian rolled off her tongue thickly, gasped rather than spoken. As a young child, she'd suffered through hours of Norse studies, her uncle insisting that she master the language of the culture he so strongly revered.
His eyes flickered slightly, as if begrudgingly focusing back onto her. His lips twitched slightly, the ghost of a scowl.
"Jeg vet." He replied flatly.
He inhaled sharply, pausing for a moment to further examine her crumpled form. He stepped forward, the toe of his boot mere inches away from her own. He reached out with a gloved hand, his lips slightly parted, as if to speak further.
Subconsciously, she flinched, expecting him to lash out, but he didn't. His long, gloved fingers ghosted over her cheek, before cupping her face into his palm. She braced herself as he gripped her shoulder with his free hand, dipping in close enough that she could feel his breath against her ear, her skin prickling beneath his grasp.
Switching to their native German, he added drily, "Such a pity it is, that presently, I do not find myself in a forgiving mood."
The words were spoken with such a cold indifference – like lethal points, plunging into her heart. She felt sick, unable to breathe, her heart pounding irregularly, threatening to rip through her chest.
Here then, was not rage, not anger, not even slight disapproval.
There was nothing.
The cold, almost mocking tone of his voice left her heart wrenched, tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill.
The control, the security of the cube in her palm – it was gone, and she was defenseless. Like a small child, praying for forgiveness; rewarded with bitterness.
And he knew it.
She watched dazedly as he turned on his heel, a duo of masked guards scurrying to open the doors for him. As the massive metal doors swung open, a small man with a funny looking bowtie scampered in, a folio tucked under one arm and a pair of spectacles in his free hand.
"Herr Schmidt!"
His voice was shaky, his hands trembling as he fussed with his glasses. She watched as Johann stopped before him, towering over the little scientist to such the extent that he was forced to look down in order to meet his eyes.
But the little scientist was no longer looking at him – he looked on, gazing with an intent curiosity – at her.
"What – what has happened here, sir?"
She watched as Johann cast a cursory glance over his shoulder, his eyes briefly meeting hers. There was a cold glint in them. He reached a gloved hand to his jaw, probing at it methodically.
"Remove her to the North Wing; the isolation cells shall work nicely. Instruct the technicians to have our testing facilities prepared within the hour." He nodded to one of the guards, who scurried off to carry out the order.
He turned back to look at the little scientist. He sighed heavily, as if annoyed by the man's abrupt interruption. "Come along, Dr. Zola. We have much to… discuss."
Silently, Johann preceded him, head held erect in an almost cockish manner. Hurriedly placing his specs upon the bridge of his nose, the scientist scurried forth to catch up.
"No!"
Her captors jumped, sparks of electricity flaring off the surface of her arms, glowing tendrils curling around the tips of her fingers. Static crackled in her hair, her eyes blazing blue. When she spoke, her voice was richly layered: a wispy, ethereal soprano, but at the same time deep and menacing, almost grating in nature.
The fury radiated off her body in blazing sheets, the fire searing along the plains of her shoulders like rainwater.
Turning his head slightly, gloved hand still caressing his jawbone, he gave her an inquisitive glance.
"Look at me." Her teeth were gritted, every word sharply annunciated, her entire frame trembling with restrained anger, begging to be released in a torrent.
Almost deliberately, he very slowly turned to face her, breathing sharply, his broad chest heaving with the inhalation. He raised an eyebrow in mock question, his mouth pursed.
Her fists clenched at her sides, sparks still running freely across her body, she opened her mouth to speak, her breaths ragged and shallow, as if strained.
"You will not leave. Not until you answer my questions." She stared at him levelly, watching his eyes.
He came forward, allowing her to look directly into his eyes.
"Really?" he answered quietly. "And why, pray tell, should I feel inclined to fulfill your request? After all, don't you consider it almost unfair, that I should allow myself to be interrogated, when in fact, you are far more deserving of such?
"I broke in." she answered quietly. "What more is there to elaborate on?"
The blue of his irises seemed to turn to ice, the black leather of his glove a blur before her eyes, followed by a searing pain across her face. Her head snapped back, the tears she had been holding back threatening to gush with the onset of the sting. She watched his lips tug upward, as if in a satisfied smirk, before turning back to leave.
She lashed out with her fist, catching his arm, a blinding explosion of cobalt light jolting him forward. Almost instantly, he recovered his balance, but she quickly backed off as he reeled on her, electrical currents crackling off of her body, every inch of her frame tensed for attack.
Just like all those long, tedious afternoons spent in the basement, sparring blindly, constantly pausing to finesse her stance, her speed.
"You make the Americans look like dancers." He'd once pointed out, lecturing her on her clumsiness with her throws.
Every punch, every kick she'd ever thrown – no matter how flawless on paper, she'd never once been able to hit him. While she ineptly dodged his perfectly executed movements, tripping over herself and winding up with more than few ugly bruises, he artfully caught her every punch, easily evading her advances before mercilessly counterattacking – and of course, looking every bit the well-seasoned combatant while he did so.
The leftover energy coursed through her, every muscle in her body writhing with it, longing to feel the tesseract's presence once again.
Surely such a sensation wasn't healthy.
Her eyes narrowed to slits, and angrily she waited for him to advance. But he didn't.
Again, rather than lashing out, rather than expressing his anger, he did nothing. He merely turned to face her, breathing perhaps a bit heavier, silently assessing her actions with an expression of deep intrigue. It was almost as if she were one of his prototypes, and that all of this was merely another trial session.
The lack of perceivable emotion unsettled her beyond belief.
He wasn't acting in the manner of her uncle; fiercely protective, quick to scold or lecture, immediately perfecting even the slightest flaw.
Rather, he now portrayed the scientist, carefully examining her every move as if she were some strange specimen, carefully evading close contact, as if she were poisoned.
But… of course, it did make sense.
It was hardly considered natural for any human being to be able to manifest within themselves electrical currents.
But why then, could she? What was this tesseract thing? And why did she so vehemently crave its presence?
Her stomach churned, her head growing dizzy with the torrent of unanswered questions that swirled about her conscience. That was, after all, the reason she was here. For answers.
And all too often, she had been forced to go without them.
"Tell me what the tesseract is." Her voice was shaky, almost pleading. "Please tell me what it is."
His eyes flickered slightly, his expression hardening. "The tesseract is by nature of the utmost volatility, and as a result of that, it must be an artifact of the utmost confidentiality. Only the top HYDRA operatives are privy to its abilities. You were, most disgracefully I might add, a breach in its security. But none the less, one that shall be dealt with appropriately."
He turned to face the last few guards that remained looming in the back corners of the laboratory, uncertainly awaiting further commands.
"Are our testing facilities prepared?"
"Jawohl, Herr Schmidt." One of the senior officers barked.
He nodded slightly. "See to it that she is tranquilized."
"I am not finished."
He cast a cursory glance her way, a certain impatience in his eyes now. But he said nothing.
In a blur, the events at Norway scattered across her vision…
Row upon row upon row of masked soldiers, their arms bolt-upright in staunch salute, their voices robotic in nature as they chanted simultaneously, 'Hail HYDRA'.
The blinding cobalt light; the hungry expression in his eyes; the trigger of a gun begin pulled, an innocent man falling dead.
Was this the true nature of HYDRA, then? How could what her uncle modestly described as a handful of Nazi-employed scientists have escalated into a full-fledged army, a cultish following of masked, faceless and lifeless creatures, all willing to fall onto their knees before their beloved leader.
Who even was their leader, if not Johann? If not Johann, who was his leader? The Führer? And the tesseract – she'd witnessed its powers firsthand, but what purpose would it serve for the Reich? If it had anything to do with the Reich, at all.
"You killed a man." She whispered.
She watched as his eyes widened slightly, as if genuinely surprised at her inquiry. But quickly he resumed composure, his face once again hardening into an unreadable mask.
"We are at war. People die."
"He was innocent."
"People die. Not just soldiers."
"And that justifies your actions?"
His eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting into a scowl. "I am not at the leisure to answer all of your petty questions; neither should I feel any compulsion to do so. If making a nuisance out of yourself was what you set out to do, I must congratulate you, you've exceeded your goals. Of course, now, you must be dealt with accordingly."
He cocked his head slightly, and almost instantly, the guards were on her.
Of course, it shouldn't have taken many, but since they were all still rather shocked at the earlier events –
Lashing out with a blaze of cobalt light, she sent the first two careening back into the far wall, their guns clattering to the ground. The next round was on her in a matter of moments, surrounding her but wisely maintaining a distance, weapons cocked. Slowly they inched forward; kicking out with her leg, she knocked the first two weapons free of their wielders' grasps. Dipping backwards, she whipped out with her fist, willing a torrent of blue electrical currents to erupt from her fingertips, shocking the other two into unconsciousness. Only three more remained, and they advanced on her from every angle, their guns cocked and aimed.
Eyes narrowing, she felt the tesseract's power coursing in her blood, boiling with unrestrained energy. Slowly she raised her hands, splaying her fingers, feeling the exhilaration tingling beneath her flesh. Closing her eyes, she felt – knew – it would only take moments for that explosion of fire, when the power and strength manifested within her and filled her with a feeling should couldn't begin to comprehend.
It was fleeting – lasting only mere moments.
The explosion of fire and electricity, the heat searing the hairs on her flesh, the wild energy that set her senses alight.
The soldiers were blown backwards, clattering against the metal floor like their weapons before them.
And yet, the power continued to flow from her, uncontrolled, unwilled, like blood spilling from a fresh wound –
And then, as if a candle flame burnt down to the wick, it was gone.
Winking from existence like an extinguished spark, she collapsed to the ground, her eyes rolling back into her head as the toll of the expelled energy finally hit her body with the full extent of its force.
In the distance she could hear her uncle's voice, quiet and pensive in manner, curtly calling out another order.
More masked guards – at least seven of them – bolted into the laboratory, six of them heavily armed with a single one brandishing a long syringe, the sharp point of a needle glinting in the blaring red light of the alarms that still sounded out in the corridor.
She didn't bother flinching as the needle penetrated her skin – she had no energy left. It was almost as if the very last breath of life had been taken from her, and all that was left now was an empty shell.
Her eyes flickered closed and the blackness set in. She was almost grateful for it.
XXX
Present
"Herr Schmidt," Zola's voice echoed off of the metal walls, ringing in his ears. Probing at his mask, he cast a cold glare over his shoulder at the little scientist, vexed at having his contemplations interrupted.
"Do you find it necessary to make a nuisance out of yourself, Arnim." He muttered, lowering his head into his hands, running his fingers through his fabricated hair. He sighed as he watched Zola shrink out of the corner of his eye. The man was spineless, no better than a whipped puppy.
One common misconception that he found immensely irksome – so many of the Gestapo had branded him as little more than a 'lowly scientist', defenseless and useless, good only for testing lab rats and toying with chemistry sets.
He rather liked to consider himself as one of the revolutionaries to prove that popular stereotype wrong. Unfortunately, Zola stood to be the epitome of it.
"What do you want, Dr. Zola?"
Skittishly, the little doctor crept out of his hiding spot pressed against the wall and silently made his way toward the leather chaise that Johann occupied.
"The results are back from testing, mein Herr."
"And?"
Zola lowered his head. "We found no traces of electrical currents in her bloodstream."
Johann straightened in his seat, level with the scientist's eyes. "You found no abnormalities?"
Silently, he shook his head.
"Nothing whatsoever?"
"Nothing, sir. Her resting heart-rate is normal; her blood samples were completely clean. The only tests left to run are vision and physical exertion tests, and we cannot complete those until she regains consciousness."
Sighing, he stood up, straightening the hem of his uniform. For a moment, he paused, gazing intently through the glass window that divided the small observation room from the test chamber.
Her body strapped to a metal operating table, Mina lay in a drug-induced coma, her physical state monitored by several machines via intravenous sensors. Allowing his eyes to glaze over for a moment, he watched the rhythmic rising and falling of the needle that methodically illustrated her heartbeat along a length of paper.
Normal. Not too slow, not too fast. Utterly consistent, uniform. It was maddening.
Any semblance of a change, even the smallest discrepancy – anything would be a welcome discovery.
And yet, everything about her, physically at least, was completely normal.
Who knew, perhaps further testing would reveal that she could now spot the proverbial needle in the haystack at first glance, or perhaps incinerate it with a well-aimed glare that somehow managed to shoot fire – but he sincerely doubted it.
Of course, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he should have expected such results. He'd be a fool to believe that an artifact as complex as the tesseract would provide clear-cut answers when subjected to any kind of studying.
But one would certainly think that there would be some sort of visible difference in a human who now suddenly had the abilities to manifest highly volatile electrical currents within themselves, much less wield them to their own advantage.
He scowled as he contemplated this, silently damning his own simple-mindedness. And quickly thereafter, damning Erskine's horrifically flawed serum, for merely heightening his physical abilities, and failing to further his already superior intelligence.
But alas, he should have expected such from the very beginning. Erskine, after all, was only a man. A human.
He smirked slightly, but his amusement was short-lived as his former thoughts resumed precedence.
He turned around to find Zola still standing there, busying himself with adjusting his bowtie. Johann cracked his jaw and sighed, rather loudly, hoping the gesture would convey what he otherwise would have said aloud. Why are you still here, polluting the air with your human filth?
Ignorant to his superior's annoyance, Zola continued to fuss at his clothing, head bent, brows furrowed in deep concentration. Apparently it took some amount of focus to achieve a perfectly formed bow.
Johann closed his eyes for a moment before addressing the little scientist. Clearing his throat just loud enough for Zola to take notice, he indicated dryly,
"You make a far better lawn-ornament than you do a scientist, Arnim."
Zola gawked at him for a moment, confusion etched into his features. Johann shook his head and strode past him, leaving the scientist to gape. He reached the entrance and turned back to see if Zola had followed. He sighed again, rather heavily.
"Come along, Dr. Zola. Let us not spend the evening dawdling. That would be terribly counter-productive and I do prefer to be on schedule."
Nearly dropping his glasses, the scientist snapped his hanging jaw shut, scurrying to his superior's side.
"Yes sir, my apologies sir, I – I"
"Do you remember our discussion earlier today, Dr. Zola?"
"Well… yes sir."
Cocking his head slightly, he replied, "Then you would do well to heed to my advice."
Lapsing into a jog (as he so often found himself doing, nowadays), Zola hurriedly upped his pace, not wanting to prolong his superior's wait. It was evident that Schmidt's patience was waning, already on its final thread, and he didn't particularly wish to irritate the man.
Striding at a brisk pace, Johann pressed a gloved hand to his jawbone, probing methodically, as was his habit.
"You are absolutely certain that there were no alterations, Dr. Zola? No peculiar brain activities, no physical tremors, anything unordinary?"
"Quite, sir. I tested everything twice to ensure that there were no errors in the process." Zola rubbed at his glasses. "It is most puzzling. Not even a scorch mark is present. But perhaps the vision tests will shed some light onto our predicament, or perhaps the exercise tests. Perhaps the tesseract managed to alter her physical abilities."
Johann stopped short, the little scientist nearly losing his balance as he ground to a clumsy halt beside him.
"Idiot." He muttered under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides.
"P – Pardon sir?"
He shook his head, probing at his mask in annoyance. "Not you, Dr. Zola." Sighing, he crossed the corridor to one of the various observation windows, leaning against it almost tiredly. "Do not bother with the tests, it is useless."
"W – What do you mean, sir? We must test everything, in order to ensure that we have tested every possibility."
"I understand your meaning, Dr. Zola, but trust me when I say it is useless. The test will provide you with false results."
Zola could not mask his confusion. "I – I am afraid I don't understand, sir. Our methods are always so intricately detailed and thorough – they have never failed us before. Why – why should they now?"
As he listened the scientist speak, Johann felt a slight sensation of rage well up in his chest. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Of course the tests would provide false answers – she was already and top physical condition. A series of broken images, shards almost, of fractured memories, rippled before his eyes like water.
Mina, lying in a peaceful slumber, at long last. Her pallor was ashen, her amber-hued curls drenched with sweat, pasted to her forehead. Her skin was hot beneath his hand, of which, for once, he had removed his glove.
It was almost unsettling, how extreme the contrast was to Wilhelmina's pale coloring. His long, slender fingers, once porcelain-white, were now a shocking crimson, gnarled in areas where the fire of the serum had scarred his flesh. It made his stomach churn, to look at it. How horrific and ugly it was – he – was, in the presence of the little girl's innocence.
Indeed, she was so little and frail. Ravaged by the imperfection of mortal illness. But the serum – it would remove those petty human weaknesses, elevate her to a deity-like status, a superior being.
Only superior beings would be allowed to live on in his perfected world. Tenderly, he stroked his niece's arm as his other hand brandished the needle and syringe. He ran his tongue across his teeth, adrenaline rushing in his veins.
Whether or not it was the thrill of fantasizing over his ideal universe, or the fear of what he was about to do, he could not identify.
XXX
The needle penetrated her skin smoothly, although the maddeningly slow pace at which the serum drained from the syringe did little to relax his trembling grip.
As he removed the needle from her flesh, he waited a few moments in tense anticipation, his muscles contracted beneath the heavy material of his uniform.
The serum had penetrated, that much he was sure, but the child slept on soundly, not even the slightest twitch shaking her frame.
Heavily, he sighed in relief. Surely, if there were to be any painful side-effects, they would have occurred by now –
Mina screamed out in agony, her body convulsing as if it were possessed. Tears streamed down her ashen cheeks and her cries grew more strained, her hands clutching at the sheets, trembling violently.
Watching in silent horror, he knew he could nothing for her. The pain would only last a few moments.
But to merely sit and look on as she cried in pain – it felt as if someone had reached into his chest and grabbed onto his heart, wrenching it with a death grip.
The seconds ticked by furiously and her shrieks only grew louder, her skin burning beneath his outstretched palm.
XXX
He could hear her now, her strained cries echoing in the back of his mind, causing his heart contract within his chest, feelings of pity and remorse welling in the pit of his stomach. He scowled angrily. He had neither the time nor the patience to allow his heart to grow soft.
"Herr Schmidt?" Zola's voice sounded from behind him, an edge of nervousness in his tone. "Herr Schmidt?"
"Ja, Dr. Zola?" he answered tiredly, his voice almost ragged.
"Why, sir, would the tests not –"
"Because Dr. Zola." He turned to face the scientist, who automatically hung his head in submission as he met his eyes. "She is not a normal girl. She will respond differently than an average human."
"What do you mean, sir?" he inquired quietly, his hands trembling as they removed his specs from his nose.
Johann sighed. Normally, Zola's insistent questioning would have annoyed him immensely. But at this point in time, he was simply too tired to be impatient.
"Wilhelmina has… undergone, shall we say, improvements, Dr. Zola." As he said this, he began to make his way further down the corridor, Zola scurrying to catch up. "At the beginning of her life, due to complications at birth, she was rendered extraordinarily weak and prone to illness." He stopped for a moment, pausing to glance down at the scientist.
A look of curiosity glinted faintly in Zola's eyes, though he quickly lowered his head.
"Roughly a year after her mother died, her health continued to deteriorate. Every form of streptococci, every possible ailment known to man – the girl has had them all."
Johann turned to face Zola, forcing the scientist to look up to meet his eyes. He felt his fists clench at his sides in anger.
"Every physician in Germany, Dr. Zola. Every physician in Germany I sought out, hoping that by some miracle, one of them would be able to find a cure to my niece's failing health. Something to strengthen her, something to free her of the constant torture her body was forced to endure almost daily."
He began to walk again, hands clasped behind his back, head held up in a regal manner.
"Every single one of them gave the same answer – that there was nothing that could be done, that all I could do was wait for the next illness to kill her." Straightening, his muscles went rigid with angered tension. "So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I was able to procure the last of Erskine's serum before he so heroically fled the country; the results of the serum, were satisfactory."
He smirked slightly, a cruel glint in his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It would seem that Dr. Erskine never fails to produce successful experiments."
Zola waited a few moments in almost stunned silence, until he realized that his superior had finished speaking. Looking up slowly, his jaw dropped slightly, as if in sudden realization.
"Of course – the serum would have drastically improved her physical abilities therefore the tests would… of course."
Turning away from the scientist, Johann closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the compulsive urge to roll his eyes. Although Zola's designs never failed to impress him, the man's… comprehension almost always managed to try his patience.
"Herr Schmidt," Zola's voice echoed in the back of his conscience. "Herr Schmidt?"
Opening one eye slowly, he answered, "What is it, Dr. Zola?"
"Sir, do you – do you think that perhaps that is why she was able to stabilize the tesseract?"
"What do you mean, Dr. Zola?"
"The serum – it would have at least tripled her strength, her agility – perhaps even her brain capacity. The tesseract is obviously a very volatile artifact – we were only able to successfully concentrate its power for strictly machine usage, not to the point where it could actually be manifested in a person. But perhaps… perhaps she was able to do so because of her strength, because she is stronger than an average human being and therefore she was able to withstand its power." His voice rose with a certain amount of excitement and he rubbed furiously at his specs.
"Dr. Zola, if your speculation was true, I would be able to stabilize the tesseract. Our levels of physical strength are the same, if mine are not higher."
Placing his specs back onto his nose, Zola looked thoughtful. "Well, yes sir, theoretically you could physically handle the tesseract. But of course, we cannot confirm that without further –"
"Testing?" Johann pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes briefly.
"Well, yes sir."
"Arnim, have you any idea what the tesseract is?"
"It is an artifact of Norse mythology, is it not, sir?"
He began to pace about the corridor, gloved hands clasped tightly behind his back. "The Tesseract, although of great historical value, is an artifact not to be toyed with, Zola. Although, I do not blame you for your way of thinking; as scientists, we are trained to test everything, down to the most miniscule detail, and then to test and retest the object again and again, to find whatever it is we are searching for." He stopped.
"This cannot be done with the Tesseract. An artifact of such volatile nature is prone to change; even if we could physically 'test' its properties, the results would never match because the object being tested would continue to change. If we were to test one's ability to manifest the tesseract's properties within themselves, we would most likely see a very similar conclusion."
"What do you mean, sir?"
Johann turned to face him. "Well, Zola, you tell me. Would it be – convenient, shall we say – if our test subjects were to be consumed by the properties of the Tesseract?"
Zola wore a look of utter confusion. "What do you mean, consumed, sir?"
"The tesseract has not been physically handled by any being, moreover of mortal ancestry in over a millennium, Arnim. Do you know who the last person to bear it was?"
"N – No sir."
"Thor."
He turned on his heel and continued down the hall. "So you see, Zola. It is not quite so easy for someone like myself or even that American simpleton to simply… waltz in and grab it. Believe me, if it was, I would have already done it."
XXX
HYDRA Test Chamber
White. That was the color. Not the soft, downy white of freshly fallen snow or the silken white of swans' wings. A harsh, fluorescent white that stung her eyes and made her head throb.
Voices echoed against the metal walls, ringing in her ears almost painfully. Their words were garbled, her mind muddling their sentences together.
"Dr. Zola – the girl – awakened – tranquilized – unplug – machines – "
"Where – where am I?" her throat was dry, unable to produce sound. Blurred images appeared above her, the hazy outline of masked faces, alien in appearance. But among them, she could see a human-being, at least in appearance, with large spectacles and a bright red, polka-dotted bowtie. She focused on the sound of his voice, the words growing clearer now.
"No, no, that won't be necessary. Herr Schmidt wants her removed to his quarters. Remove the sensors and get her some clothes."
The masked guards dutifully bowed their heads and filed off in various directions, leaving the funny looking little man.
He seemed to be staring down at her, curiously.
"Do not fear, Miss Hofstadter. We have finished testing you for now. Now you must rest, so that you will be ready for us in the morning."
"Ready for – ready for what?" she murmured; a dull throbbing began in the back of her eyes, blurring her vision once again.
The little man smiled. "What you did today was most impressive, my dear girl. Your uncle was most intrigued. However, you are very tired. Tomorrow you will be well-rested, and you will be able to control the tesseract for us again."
"The tesseract?"
"Hush child, close your eyes and go to sleep. You must rest."
She fought to keep her eyes open, but the overwhelming sensation of fatigue made her limbs feel as if they each weighed fifty pounds, and the throbbing in her skull made her almost welcome sleep as it fell upon her once again.
XXX
Johann Schmidt's Private Quarters
Beads of cold sweat trickled down her forehead, her body shivering in the frigid air. Sitting up slowly, she could no longer feel the tendrils of wiring creeping down her arms, the itchy, alien feeling of sensors stuck to her flesh.
The room was dark, save for a small ray of light trickling in through the covered window. She glanced down to see a black woolen blanket pooling about her lap. Reaching out with her hand, she felt something else, something smooth, almost slippery to the touch. Pulling it up to examine it, she realized it was her Uncle's heavy leather coat that he would wear with his SS uniform. Laying it back down, she felt something inside her contract almost mournfully.
Johann must have been here.
She felt tears brimming in her eyes, her stomach churning. Suddenly, all she wanted was to go home, to have everything that had happened in the last two days to disappear, like a nightmare that she would wake up from in a few moments, with Johann cradling her in his arms, kissing her head, telling her it was all over, all gone.
But it was too late.
Images of the tesseract flashed before her eyes, the look of merciless fury in her uncle's eyes as he'd slapped her, the power surging through her body and from her fingertips.
Whatever had happened today – whatever this 'tesseract' was – she would be a fool to think that everything would go back to normal.
Rising from the bed she lay upon, she felt her muscles trembling – with fear or simply chill, she couldn't tell. She crossed over to the window, pulling back the heavy fabric.
The greyish-blue light of the moon flooded into the room, casting queer shadows along the metal walls and giving the contents of the room an almost luminous quality.
The room was rather expansive, consisting of a raised platform where the bed stood, along with a small side table with a few books, a picture, and a decanter of some clear liquid – probably liquor.
A small flight of steps led to the lower area, a spacious yet compact area containing of two leather sofas, a small coffee table strewn with maps and weathered books and ashtrays. Two large portraits flanked a modern-looking, metal hearth set against the back wall. The embers in the fireplace still gave off a dull glow. In the dim light, she could make out one of the portraits to be of the god Thor, surrounded by black storm clouds, his golden hammer raised to the heavens, bolts of lightning emanating from the object.
The other portrait, she was forced to strain to see. She could begin to make out the colors – blacks and blues and grays – and red. Blood red, and quite an amount of it.
Slowly, she took a few steps closer. Craning her neck, she could just make out the image.
Against the peaceful backdrop of the Alpine winter, the man in the portrait was most horrific in nature.
A grotesque skull-like face, the color of freshly spilt blood.
"Ah. You are awake, I see."
She reeled back, nearly toppling over, at the sound of the voice echoing across the room.
The individual sighed in an annoyed manner before turning on the one of the lamps beside the sofa. Rising to a standing position, the figure turned.
Johann stared pointedly at her misshapen frame, partially sprawled across the floor, her upper half propped up against the corner of the bed.
"Get up, Wilhelmina." His voice was ragged, tired; his eyes were red-rimmed. He waited in silence as she hauled herself to her feet.
Her eyes level with his now, he continued. "Give me one reason why I should not shoot you where you stand."
"Because you need me for your tests." She answered quietly, her voice cracking slightly.
Johann sighed again, not annoyed, but in a fatigued manner. Looking at him closely, she guessed he probably hadn't slept in several days. He rarely slept at all – he spent all of his time working and working and working – and working. Copious amounts of coffee, liquor, and cigarettes seemed to be the only necessities he required to keep his body running efficiently.
But now, it seemed as if that lack of sleep was taking its toll. He looked and sounded exhausted.
Lowering his gaze to the ground, he pointed at the sofa. "Sit."
He waited for her patiently as she crossed the room, sitting down somewhat rigidly on the sofa. Folding her hands in her lap, she lowered her eyes to the floor and waited for him to continue.
Sitting in the chair opposite her, Johann retrieved a long, black cigarette-holder from his breast pocket, reaching for the half-empty packet that rested on the arm of the chair.
Delicately removing a cigarette and placing it at the end of the holder, he resumed speaking.
"Although you are likely to be against it, I need you tell me everything you did leading up to your –" he paused for a moment, taking a long drag on the cigarette. "Small incident."
"Small?" she whispered, half to herself. "Was it?"
"Wilhelmina,"
"I couldn't tell." She answered quickly. "What it was like, I mean. I – I couldn't concentrate. On anything. Everything was… blurry. Out of focus, like a bad picture. Just… all there was… just me and… the… the…."
"The tesseract."
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with what he perceived to be fear. Or something of that nature. He was too tired to pay too close attention to her expressions.
"Yes. That's what it's called, isn't it? Such a strange name…" she spoke very quietly, as if musing to herself, her words not directed at anyone in particular…. "What is it, this 'tesseract'?"
Johann shifted uncomfortably in his seat, probing at his mask. "Wilhelmina,"
"Please Uncle."
XXX
(From Johann's Perspective)
Her eyes wore such a look of pleading – it almost made his heart ache. Though quickly, he brushed any remorseful feelings aside. The girl had caused him far too much trouble for him to grow soft at this point in time. With Hitler growing more impatient for weapons, the Gestapo's demand for 'progress reports' grew more ardent and certainly they badgered him more frequently than he would have liked.
He no longer possessed the leisure of taking his sweet time with his plans. With the tesseract's power stabilized enough to concentrate into Zola's designs, he had more firepower than he could ever have wanted.
But with the possibility that that same power could be manifested within a human being? Granted, he would have been much more pleased if it were possible to manifest in just any human – with that power in his clutches, what need did he have for some minuscule super-soldier serum? Now, if he were able to create an entire army of men with the ability to destroy everything in their sight?
Regardless of whether or not this was obtainable, he needed to know how Mina had managed to get a hold of the tesseract. He might not be able to figure out why it allowed her to hold it – but still.
Her newfound powers could be of great use to his cause – and, it would give her exactly what she wanted. Inclusion in his business. Of course, the specific details of that business would be kept under wraps until he had successfully achieved his goals.
Sighing heavily, he blew a thick cloud of smoke into the air. Looking at his niece now, that wild look of insecurity, of fear – she was still so naïve, so innocent, so very much a child.
She would never understand why, why he craved control so much, why he wanted to rid this world of human tarnish. She would perceive his genius to be anything but – cruelty, insanity, hatred, bloodlust. Any one of those would probably fit the bill.
"Just as your mother did." He said softly.
"Uncle,"
He glanced up at her, the same pleading look still shining brightly in her eyes.
"Uncle, please, please tell me what it is." Her voice cracked, her eyes wet with tears threatening to spill. "Tell me why it – why it did – what happened to me?" He watched as the tears began to trickle down her cheeks now, her voice choked as she spoke. "You intend to use me as a lab-rat. The least you could do is tell me why."
His lips twisted into a scowl, the blue of his irises turning to ice. "Whoever told you that?" his voice had venom it, although he knew exactly what her answer would be.
"That scientist – Zola."
Johann swore under his breath. Incompetent fool. The idiot never seemed to know when to close his mouth or when to open it. When his skills were needed, it seemed that he was more content to stand there gaping like a fish. And when all he needed to do was to shut up, he couldn't seem to keep his mouth closed.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Mina cut him off, her voice rising, the slight fear in her voice escalating into terror, the tears streaming, her hands trembling in her lap.
"When I held it – the tesseract – it… I… I wanted it, Uncle. I wanted to hold it, I wanted to feel it. To feel the power… or whatever it was… to feel it coursing through me, it – I felt like a… like a god. I felt as if nothing could hurt me, nothing could ever hurt me. It spoke to me, Uncle. Someone… the voice was so strange, multilayered as if it were multiple people speaking at once. And then there was all this gibberish behind it, itching at my ears. But the voice… the clearest one, rather… it said that I was… that I was the chosen one, that I was the bearer or something like that… and… and… Uncle, please tell me what it is! Please tell me why it did this to me! Why did it turn me into this monster, this killer?"
The poor girl was close to hysteria, tears streaming down her cheeks, her entire frame quaking and trembling, her breaths short and rapid.
To see her in such a state – it made his heart ache mournfully. But what could he do? How could he comfort her when he hardly understood any of it himself? How could he alleviate her uncertainty when he didn't have the answers?
Sighing heavily – he was prone to doing that, lately – he rose from his seat and crossed over to her, sitting beside her and very gently pulling her into his arms.
Taking hold of one of her small hands in his large gloved one, he pressed a kiss against her tangled curls. Pulling back, she looked up at him, her blue eyes mirroring his own.
"Uncle, please." She whispered. "Please tell me what it is."
Lowering his gaze to the floor, he flexed his gloved fingers in his lap, a nervous energy flowing through him.
Sighing, he spoke. "The tesseract is an artifact of Norse Mythology, the jewel of Odin's treasure room. For over a millennium, it has been thought to be non-existent, merely a figment of storytellers' imaginations."
"But it isn't." she whispered. "It's real."
"Yes. The tesseract has been widely revered throughout mythological history due to its highly volatile nature – its properties are constantly being altered, changed, for reasons that no one can comprehend. Only the gods understand it fully."
At his last words, he found himself scowling. Although he would never admit it aloud, he was almost ashamed to know that he, the most superior being left on this sad, spinning shell of a world could not understand an object that equaled his level of advancement.
"As for its… allowing you to bear it… I have no idea. The tesseract has not been physically handled by anyone for over a millennium, widely due to its prolonged isolation in Norway. Dr. Zola and I are hoping that further testing will be able to explain why it… had such a profound effect upon you."
"Do you think that I will still be able to… to wield it? I mean… I only held onto it for perhaps a few moments before you… removed it. After that, I think everything was residual. Did I really imbue myself with it, or was it just that the leftover energy was perhaps transferred into me somehow, through contact?"
Massaging his masked temples, he took a long drag on his cigarette, absently flicking the ashes off the smoldering butt. Running his tongue along his teeth, he closed his eyes and breathed heavily. He was almost ashamed to continue speaking, given what his reply would be, but he did perhaps owe her that much, although he doubted it would do any good.
"I don't know, Mina. I don't know."
