"Sometimes people don't want to hear the truth because they don't want their illusions destroyed."
Friedrich Nietzsche
Subterranean Allied Science Division Laboratories
Outskirts of London, England – 1943
The rattle of machinegun fire vanished in her ears, not but a dull ringing. The shrapnel that flew through every opening ambled listlessly across her vision, slowed as if time had simply stopped. The shouts of the soldiers around her rang bluntly in her ears, the dying screams of men cut viciously short by HYDRA rifles. Sucked into an endless abyss, the very life torn from their bodies, their voices wiped from the air by an ethereal bluish light, a god-like force in its own manifestation. Colonel Phillip's voice was a raw grating on the air – haggard, angry, concerned. Not afraid, not confident, but tired – resigned. He howled angrily over the din – "Leigh, get the girl out of here!"
But something snapped within her, like a crack of lightning across a blackened sky. Leigh grabbed at her shoulder but she jerked away. "No!"
Sparks rippled across her body.
"I can help!" She shouted across the noise, staring defiantly at Phillips. He returned her look with an icy glare, his lips curling into a snarl. "Please!" she added, a note of pleading in her tone, hoping to soften him. She looked to Leigh behind her, his eyes wide at the currents of static still tingling off of her skin. "I can stop them – the HYDRA soldiers. Please let me help."
"Do I look like an idiot?" Phillips yelled. "What, let you out there so you can run back to your cronies? Go runnin' back to Schmidt an' tell him what we've been up to? You're the only weapon I've got against that son of bitch and you can bet your ass I'll shoot you before you can even take another step!"
Mina shuddered violently as he said this. Schmidt. Run back to Schmidt. Not the Red Skull. Schmidt. But she shook her head firmly and stood her ground.
"I can kill those HYDRA men! I can kill all of them – not a single one will survive, not a single one will make it back to HYDRA alive to tell him that you have me! You'd be a fool not to let me help you! Lock me up in a box, stick me with needles, probe and prod me – do whatever you want to me! But you'll lose more men trying to fight against HYDRA guns unaided! Besides – they've already seen me, they already have what they want. They'll go and tell the Red Skull where I am and he'll find me and your hope – my hope – it will have run out. They'll kill your men today, and it will only be salt to rub into your wounds. I have their power – more of it then their guns can stand. You wanted a demonstration! I'll give you one! Let me help!"
Phillips' iron gaze faltered. Leigh yelled from behind her. "She's right, sir. We'll lose more men trying to take them on without her – there's bound to be survivors that'll leak what happened back to HYDRA."
Mina held her gaze steadfastly, watching Phillips' face contort as if it were unable to decide between a look of anger or resignation. Finally, he relented.
"Leigh – hold a gun to her. And damn it; shoot her if she tries anything." His voice was cold.
She felt the cold barrel of a pistol against her scalp, heard the click of the gun being cocked. Leigh's shadow enveloped hers and he prodded her forward with his free hand. She could almost hear his voice in her ear, perfectly calm, saying, "just a routine precaution."
But she was not afraid. This was her chance. This was her chance to prove to her captors that she was trustworthy. This was her chance to slap the Red Skull in the face. She was free from his grasp and his gaze – she would not let him destroy her only chance at securing her freedom.
Phillips glared at her with her angry, steely eyes, but he was silent as she thrust her shoulders back and moved forward towards the cottage door – Leigh's gun pressed firmly against the back of her skull.
She stopped at the entrance, the collision of shrapnel against the outer wall causing the doorframe to vibrate – but not shake loose of its seemingly rickety hinges. No doubt, it was reinforced with steel plates – a quiet security innovation, perhaps.
"I will put a force field around us," she said quietly. "This way, the force of the power will not incinerate us both. The power will consume my mind for a few moments – it sort of takes me away, to a mental sanctuary. But I will protect you, and your men. If you'll trust me for a moment."
Leigh's gun didn't falter. "I'll trust you." However, his tone was sincere.
"Thank you." She whispered, and pushed open the door.
The din was immediate and loud – the screams of dying American and English soldiers – torn from their bodies like a leaf snatched by a gusty breeze. HYDRA soldiers swarmed the area – leather masks, black leather uniforms, rifles aimed, shooting burst of blue light.
Anger bubbled within her – rage that they had found her, and so quickly. Rage that they so selfishly killed – and enjoyed the killing.
She would inflict a wound that would penetrate deeply within HYDRA's seemingly bullet-proof core.
She stopped several paces beyond the cottage entrance – and every HYDRA mask seemed to simultaneously glue its glassy eyes upon her, standing small and frail, prodded like a hostage by the Captain behind her. She knew that even if they perceived this sudden appearance of their prized weapon as the presentation of a white flag, they would not lower their guns. They would not discontinue their fight in order to negotiate with the American officer holding a pistol to her skull. They would continue to slaughter each and every one of the allied soldiers – Captain Leigh included – without a second thought. No doubt they sneered beneath their masks.
No doubt they thought – knew – that they would snatch her up effortlessly and ship her back to the German Alps, to present her to their seething, vicious master.
"Are you ready, Captain Leigh?" her voice sounded strangely calm.
"Whenever you're ready." He answered flatly, not a trace of fear in his voice. The gun rested heavily against her head.
She closed her eyes, as seemed to be the routine now, and silently, she let the power course through her uninterrupted.
The voices – always starting at the lowest spectrum, a throaty, deep male register – rising up feverishly in the back of her mind, rich altos and heady sopranos mixing and blending into a single song of chaos and cacophony. She willed them to a dull vibration at the back of her mind, and she asked a single, impossible question of the gods that governed this irrational power.
Let me save them, please. The allied soldiers – they fight to preserve peace and life, not to bring disorder or greed, my lord Odin. Let me save them, let me show them that I want to help them. I cannot win this fight alone.
A rich, omniscient voice – seemingly neither male nor female, but something in between.
Proceed.
And silence. A dull, empty silence, but none the less, she did proceed. She trusted the voice in her head – whether it was real, or simply her own madness. There was a certain stability and gravity in the rich, heady tones of that allusive monotone, and she took solace in its reliability. It always answered when she asked.
She splayed her hands before her, resting them on the air as if resting them on piano keys. The din of men and fire and death and suffering slowed to a blur around her, all but the dull humming of the tesseract's power within her and the barrel of Leigh's gun against her head fading into the background.
A jolt of power shook her frame – a sheet of rippling blue light, like a waterfall of buzzing, electrical currents issued from her fingertips. She reached out tentatively, touching it, vaguely aware of its existence, and her fingertips pressed against its solid surface. A protective field surrounded her and the Captain – but not just them. Every American soldier before her was surrounded in a bluish light, although they were not aware of it. Only she and Captain Leigh were privy to the might of the tesseract's power. The HYDRA soldiers, fittingly, were ignorant of the forces she was manifesting.
The captain sucked in his breath behind her, but the gun remained fixed to her like iron. She raised her hands up, as if to press against the shield surrounding them, and she willed the fire to issue from her palms, as gently as a subtle breeze on the air. But its force betrayed its gentle appearance. Like a wash of rain, the bright light flowed her from outstretched palms beyond the boundaries of the force field – igniting whatever fell into its path. It was like a plague – deadly, selective, and chilling in its accuracy.
HYDRA soldiers folded like ragdolls as the blue blaze hit them, crumpling their frames before vaporizing them completely on the smoke-shot air. It slithered across the battleground like a serpent – whispering past American soldiers, yet barely licking at their beige uniforms, while annihilating HYDRA troops with a deadly acuteness. It wove in and out, claiming lives – sparing lives – silently, like a gust of wind. Gentle, yet incomparably cruel.
She watched the power work its way through the core of HYDRA's troops, her outstretched palms merely a portal for Odin's wrath.
The gun slid down the back of her skull to the nape of her neck.
"Put your gun back where it was, Captain Leigh." She whispered stoically. "It is not finished yet. When all HYDRA men are dead, perhaps then Colonel Phillips will allow you to let your guard down."
"How… how are you doing it?" The captain didn't bother to mask his awe.
She closed her eyes. "I don't honestly know." She answered. "I was chosen by the gods, apparently. But I am merely an intermediary. They do this, not me. Do you think I'm mad?"
"Sometimes madness can be effective." The gun had been replaced at its previous position.
"It can also be destructive. HYDRA would not exist were it not for a deluded man's madness."
Something felt strange and distinctly wrong within her, yet she wasn't alarmed. Perhaps it was not wrong – perhaps it was meant to be. But for the first time, she was completely aware of her surroundings – as well as the power. She could focus on channeling the tesseract's essence into this simple, yet destructive act with poise. She could recognize Captain Leigh's stunned voice, and she could register his words. It was not merely a blur of incoherent noise. She was aware – painfully aware – of every minute detail. Everything was clear.
Your power is developing because we have deemed you worthy of our gifts. You are no longer lost in translation as you act – your thoughts and your actions become one and you can recognize both individually, independently. We have given you awareness. Your strength still wanes, but your mind is clear. We have given you elevated control. Use it wisely.
A resounding crack – like lightning – split the air as a final burst of blinding light exploded from her palms, engulfing the battle scene before them. And then – within moments – the light disappeared on the breeze, like a candle being extinguished.
Tensed, she waited a few moments before lowering her hands, the force field surrounding them – and every American soldier – vanishing.
A cold, bleak silence overcame the entire landscape before them – the air reeking of smoke and scorched flesh. Bodies, primarily American soldiers, littered the ground.
The bodies of HYDRA soldiers however – even those who had fallen from the bullets of allied soldiers were nowhere to be found, as if they had vanished from thin air, incinerated by the strange power that flowed from her fingertips.
"Is it over now?" Captain Leigh's voice was tentative, yet it retained a certain measure of cold suspicion.
Mina nodded slowly. "Yes. It's over. The power seems to have a mind of its own. Like I said – I'm only a channel for it to flow through. It's a part of me, but it is also independent."
She looked about, her eyes flitting from the gaping expressions on the allied soldiers' faces before her, contorted with fear and awe and even – appreciation.
The clack of army boots sounded behind them. Mina turned slightly to see Colonel Phillips, followed by an entourage of shell-shocked British officers, skulk out of the cottage, grimly surveying the damage.
"Put the gun down, Captain." Phillips rasped.
Captain Leigh obeyed, the gun sliding from its position at the base of her skull.
Phillips came to stand before her, his eyes steely, flatly scrutinizing her. In turn, she kept her eyes riveted to his; although there was no doubt that hers were decidedly uneasy and fearful. She did not know what to expect from this hardened military man, seemingly undaunted by whatever obstacles were posed before him. He seemed tired, set in his ways, unwilling to delegate any semblance of power. Yet, there was something distinctly Machiavellian about his mindset – the ends would always justify the means, and for that reason, she had reason to hope that he would be accepting of the power she had to offer him. Otherwise, he could not have possibly been willing to allow her (albeit begrudgingly) to take on the onslaught of attacking HYDRA soldiers just moments earlier.
Perhaps most of all, he seemed to have a personal vendetta against HYDRA. HYDRA had taken something from him – something more, perhaps, than simply the lives of hundreds of American men. No doubt many of those men had been under his command at the time of their deaths, and no doubt, from the deep sadness etched finely in to his features, he felt responsible for them. But there was something else too, in his eyes – a deeper loss, something that stung indefinitely, and served to solidify his mission against HYDRA. But what was it?
"Are you examining me, Miss Hofstadter?"
His gruff voice thrusted her back into reality. She blinked, dazed. "Did you find something interesting?"
"I was thinking." She answered, dumbly, but it was honest enough.
Phillips raised an eyebrow skeptically – or perhaps, mockingly. "Well let's hope your thoughts aren't too advanced. We wouldn't want you to suddenly get the idea of escaping into your head. Especially since I intend for you to be very useful for our needs."
He turned about on his heel and started back into the cottage.
"Captain Leigh, escort Miss Hofstadter to the lab. I have a feeling Churchill's staff is going to want a detailed account of this."
Mina glanced at the captain beside her inquisitively. "Were you telling the truth about having a tea-party in the garden with Churchill then?" She said softly as Phillips stalked out of earshot.
He twitched uncomfortably. "I wasn't exaggerating entirely."
As if to table the subject, he grabbed her shoulder and propelled her forward back into the cottage, leaving the stunned audience of allied soldiers to gawk.
XXX
It was some forty minutes before they reached their final destination, hundreds of feet below that ridiculously quaint little cottage. However, it did serve as a remarkably good disguise for a central hub of allied intelligence. A hidden passage carved out of the wooded floor of the cottage led down into a large cement tunnel that, at first glance, could have casually passed for a root cellar. However, another concealed doorway lay at the end of the space, and via an elaborate identification system, the door opened onto an electrically lighted bricked corridor, equipped with several elevators and several flights of stairs. Beyond each twisting spiral staircase and every lift, lay offices, laboratories, radio rooms, mapping rooms, war rooms – it dwarfed whatever she had glimpsed in London.
"How big is this place?" she wondered aloud.
"Well, there are seventy private officers' barracks, two hundred and fifty noncoms' barracks, five map rooms, seven war-rooms, a radio network that can accommodate three hundred men and three hundred machines, a supply branch reserved for provisions, the arsenal, the magazine, the mess hall – "
"The size of your normal above-ground base, I take it."
Leigh winked at her. "Sadly, we're still lacking the Tube station to take us to and from headquarters at London – I suppose the convoys will have to do meantime."
"If this place is so large, then why are the headquarters in London?"
"Because oftentimes it behooves us to have a base somewhat removed from urban centers. Urban centers are more apt to be crawling with enemy informers. This location, as you could tell from the surface, is fairly inconspicuous. The only way, we can theorize at least, that HYDRA figured out where we were heading is because they followed us from London. Which serves my point that sometimes it's better to have your important assets far removed from civilization – or at least, somewhat removed. Doesn't HYDRA have its main base in the Alps?"
"Yes."
"Far removed, difficult to get to, obscure, no neighbors. An excellent way to maintain a terrorist organization without being noticed by the tabloids."
"So that's what you call it?"
"Call what?"
"HYDRA. You call it a terrorist organization." Her voice was decidedly neutral; she didn't bother trying to act surprised. In effect, that was what HYDRA was – they casually murdered to satisfy their own needs. They certainly weren't a humanitarian effort, regardless of how emphatically Johann argued that they were.
Captain Leigh stopped and looked at her. She stopped as well, and faced him. They were alone in the corridor, save for a few guards at their posts. Phillips and his entourage had gone on ahead of them to brief the panel of British officers awaiting them in the underground base. Oddly, the Colonel had trusted her to wander unbound and accompanied only by one officer – with a several others trailing ahead of them and behind, but apparently only as a secondary precaution. She hoped – desperately – that she had gained some level of his trust after her performance aboveground. Perhaps she had at least proved to him that HYDRA was no friend to her.
She stood before the captain now, and he before her, as casually as if they had been chatting acquaintances.
"Well, what do you call it then?" He asked.
"Oh, I call it the pet project of a lunatic who has entirely too much free time on his hands and is in dire need of a good plastic surgeon."
"I can tell you're desperately trying to mask your sarcasm."
Mina smiled ruefully. "I fear that's more truth than exaggeration."
The captain said nothing; his eyes roamed about, as if searching for words. Somewhat impulsively, she changed the subject. The topic of HYDRA's ambiguous leader left her deeply unsettled.
"Why am I not cuffed this time?"
Captain Leigh glanced at her absent mindedly. They had begun walking again, and his pace had quickened slightly. "Would you like me to cuff you?"
"That's quite alright, thank you. I was just curious."
"Apparently Phillips has been emboldened by your performance upstairs and feels that he can, in good conscience, allow you some leeway. Besides, see the steel plates on those walls? Vibranium. You've heard of Steve Rogers, yes? His shield – vibranium. Able to neutralize all HYDRA weapon-fire and most of it actually ricochets back onto the shooter. So, even if you managed to kill all of us, you'd probably also kill yourself. And if you are a HYDRA informer – well, that would be inconvenient for you, to say the least. And I would laugh my ass off in heaven while Der Rote Schädel falls into apoplexy."
"That would be amusing, to say the least."
A moment of silence passed as they continued their trek, farther down into the depths of the underground base. After a few minutes had passed, Mina spoke.
"Do you think they will want a demonstration from me? The British officers waiting…."
The captain shrugged. "It's hard to say. For your sake, I hope not. You look like hell."
"I appreciate that sentiment."
He stifled a chuckle. "Sorry. That was a bit blunter than I had intended. You look tired. I imagine the act up there was pretty taxing."
Mina smiled weakly. "It was necessary. It needed to be done, to save your fellow soldiers and, consequentially, to stop HYDRA from gaining a lead on my location. And, hopefully, to enable me to gain at least some of Colonel Phillips' trust."
She glanced at the Captain sadly. "I don't want to be your enemy. I need your help. I have no friends in this world, no allies. HYDRA is the only thing that claims to want me, and they only want me because I have something of value to them."
"They want to use you."
"But you want to use me too, I'm sure. I suppose I'm everybody's catch of the day."
"You want closure. You want someone to trust. And we want to trust you. I want to trust you. I respect Captain Rogers and if he trusted you, then I trust him and will put my faith in you. But – forgive us if we seem tentative about giving you all that trust right away. We need to – "
"Have a trial run first, as it were?"
"The liberal application of sarcasm will get you nowhere on the first date." His tone was one of mock disapproval.
Mina raised her eyebrows quizzically. "The first date? You haven't even bought me a drink yet."
He shrugged. "Somehow you don't strike me as the type for cocktails and small talk. Look, just be patient – that's all I ask. If there's anything I can guarantee you, it's that we are a certainly more trustworthy bunch than HYDRA. Forgive Phillips if he's gruff – he's been through a lot recently on account of HYDRA and his nerves have been rubbed raw. At this point he's not willing to trust his own mother right away. Just – be patient, ok?"
She sighed heavily. "If that is what it takes, Captain, then I will trust you."
The captain nodded, looking relieved. "Looks like we've reached our destination, my good miss."
Mina looked up in surprise, unaware of their surroundings. They had reached the central hub of the underground base, much like the radio-room of the London base that she had glimpsed only a few days before. Only – it was enormous, lined with walls of radio systems, abuzz with mingling accents, tongues, voices, sounds, scents. The cinder-block walls were covered in marked maps – maps of Germany, the Soviet Union, Italy, Japan. Tiny red flags dotted the table-top maps – a stark, black letter H on each of them.
She did not have to ask what the H stood for.
At the center of the room, was Colonel Phillips, his back to them, his steely gray hair disheveled and his beige uniform rumpled. Before him stood two squat, prim officers – absolutely immaculate in their dress uniforms, apparently unruffled by – or simply unaware of – the activity that had occurred hundreds of feet above them. They spoke with the posh and polished accent of Oxford-educated Englishmen, their expressions skeptical. From the set of Phillips' shoulders, he seemed quite perturbed by their aloofness.
"Is something wrong?" she asked softly.
Captain Leigh shifted from foot to foot beside her. "Arguing about something, no doubt."
She noted the officers' cursory glances over at her – the curling mustache on one seemed to twitch with distaste while the nose of other wrinkled.
"Would that 'something' have to do with me?"
"From the looks of them – and the looks of you – they probably think you're far too weak to be the girl we're after."
"Do I look weak?"
"You look like an emaciated corpse right now."
He glanced over at her. "Forgive me, was I being blunt again?"
Mina sighed. "You are rather tactless."
He opened his mouth to say something but Colonel Phillips cut in sharply – "Leigh, bring the girl to her barracks."
"Demonstration been put off, sir? Or postponed?"
Phillips' eyes were seemed to ice over. "Barracks, Leigh. Now."
Leigh straightened. "Yessir." He grabbed her shoulders and turned her about face, steering her away from the radio-room and down yet another winding corridor.
"Whatever was that about?" Mina's tone was almost frantic. "What does that mean, what do they want to do with me?"
"They don't want to do anything with you apparently – not today at least."
"But it's not even mid-morning yet! Are they just going to coop me up in a hole in the wall until I go mad?"
"Look calm down, alright? They might just want to discuss in private and they can't very well do that in a crowded radio hub – much less with the lady of honor in the vicinity. They're at least offering you the opportunity to rest before they put you to work again."
Mina opened her mouth to retort but Leigh held up a hand, dismissing her.
"You don't have the right to complain, Fraulein. If you're looking to earn Phillips' trust, the best way to start is by obeying his orders and not putting up a fuss."
She bit her tongue, knowing that he was right, but she could not help but feel angry.
"Fine. I will do as you wish."
Leigh looked at her grimly. "I appreciate your cooperation." He held out his arm, gesturing towards a narrow side-passage. "Your quarters are this way. Ladies first."
Once she had settled into her new cell, Captain Leigh assured her that he would keep her informed – he then left, locking the door behind him and leaving her alone again in a dim and musty cinder-block barrack.
Mina lay back in her narrow cot, angry and fearful.
What if Colonel Phillips was merely pulling wool over her eyes? What if he intended to imprison and enslave her, as HYDRA had? She had killed those HYDRA soldiers – did he still think she was an informant? Was he still suspicious of her?
Had HYDRA found her? There were no men to report back on their findings now – or were there? Were there more soldiers, beyond her sight and reach?
And what of this Captain America? He had wanted to save her once – had he been the one responsible for her rescue – or capture? Why was he not here now? If Captain Leigh and Colonel Phillips trusted him – perhaps she had a chance. Perhaps they would see her disdain for HYDRA – perhaps they would trust her. Protect her.
Or, perhaps, it was all simply hopeless.
Her eyes brimmed with tears and she felt her throat tighten as she lay there, alone and afraid. What would Johann have said? What would have Johann told her to do?
And, with a sudden aching awareness, she realized that she missed Johann. The cold aloofness with which she had regarded him perhaps only days before dissolved as she was overcome with a deep loneliness.
And she realized how dependent she had been on Johann – to make her decisions, to act for her, to think for her, to speak for her.
For so long, she had been pinned under his thumb, her every movement dictated and controlled by his ever watchful gaze. For the first time in her life now, she was, at least partially, free to do as she wanted and to think as she wanted; free to make her own decisions. Johann was not there to look over her shoulder, to scrutinize everything she did, seeking only perfection. He no longer controlled her, and neither did the Red Skull or HYDRA.
The reality frightened her, but it empowered her as well.
XXX
Colonel Chester Phillips' Office
Underground Allied Military Base – 1400 Hours
Outskirts of London – 1943
"Johann Schmidt's not dead. He can't be dead. HYDRA wouldn't operate independently like that – they've been force-fed Schmidt's propaganda; they don't know how to breathe without his command."
Phillips spluttered angrily, gulping down whiskey.
"Are you certain, sir? HYDRA was zealous – they could be trying to carry out what he failed to achieve." Leigh kept his voice level.
"No. He's alive. According to Zola, he had no heirs – the girl was going to be his successor, and we threw a wrench in that. There's no one else in that organization capable of taking over – if there were, we would have come up against him in battle. No, Schmidt's alive."
"Then if he's alive, how come Cap didn't make it? How can we explain that?"
Phillips' gazed turned icy. "Because that bastard planned it. It all makes sense – we cleared that base, Leigh. The main base has been closed off completely and we've monitored every satellite base since that last battle. There's no way HYDRA could've gotten anywhere near those bases. Schmidt had all of the cards – all of the weapons and resources to destroy the world but Rogers stood in his way. Taking Rogers out of the picture completely would make his life easier. So he did just that – no one knows what happened on that jet except Rogers and he's as good as dead. For all we know, it could've been a decoy – Schmidt could've been long gone by the time we got there."
"But Rogers was taken hostage by Schmidt – several of the Howlers witnessed the whole thing when they went in – they saw Schmidt so he had to have been there."
"That doesn't mean he couldn't have slipped out before anyone saw him. Schmidt ran as soon as Rogers' men got in there and took off – no one else saw him, except Rogers. Or so we think. Rogers' best guess was that Schmidt had escaped onto his jet. But then again – that jet was the most obvious detail of that air-base. Schmidt could've easily set that up as a trap – knowing that Rogers and the rest of us would take the bait. He could have slipped out while his troops had Rogers occupied."
Leigh rested his chin in his hand, his elbow propped on the arm of his chair across from Phillips' desk.
"It would explain how HYDRA was able to find Athena's location so quickly. If Cap had succeeded in killing Schmidt, I don't think HYDRA would've been able to regroup so quickly – especially if Schmidt left his men in the dark on certain issues. He doesn't strike me as the type to divulge too much information."
Phillips' brows furrowed, his expression one of anger – and thoughtfulness.
"So if we work on the assumption that Schmidt is, in fact, alive – what would be the most effective way to lure him out of hiding?"
"We utilize his most prized asset for our own uses? I imagine that would provoke him considerably." Leigh suggested. "After all, Schmidt was never subtle before – I'm sure he took quite a bit of pleasure in lording our failures over us every chance he got. How about 'turnabout fair play'? We've captured his niece – no doubt he's riled over it. According to her files, she's the only living relative Schmidt's got – and, she seems emotionally invested in him. If we were to use her as a weapon against him – I think he'd go insane. If for no other reason than well – Schmidt's a sore loser. We have something he wants – we've taken something of his. He would take that personally. And he'd be more than willing to make a scene over it to get back what's his. He'll want to get revenge on us for taking his property."
Phillips sniffed. "That's all well in good, if we don't take into account the whole morality issue."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"I mean that every proponent of the Geneva Convention is going to pitch a fit if we take this girl and 'use' her as a weapon without her consent. She needs to be willing – or else, we'll have issues. A whole shit-ton of ethical dilemmas I'd rather not have to deal with. And, there's no surefire way of proving that subject Athena is not a HYDRA informer with all the innocence of a well-practiced girl scout and a bloody vendetta against anybody that calls HYDRA's bluff."
Leigh lifted his head and straightened. "Speaking of our girl-scout, sir. What happened with the Brits today – if you don't mind my inquiring?"
Phillips looked up at him and sighed. "They're skeptical. They think she'll be too difficult to handle – too dangerous to risk using. There's the concern that she's a HYDRA informer. They want us to interrogate her extensively before we put her into action. We can't touch this girl without hitting some sort of snag. I let the 'demonstration' slide today – figured she needed rest after this morning's… events."
Leigh looked down at his shoes. "She doesn't know that Johann Schmidt and the Red Skull are the same person. Do you plan to reveal that to her any time soon, sir?"
Phillips mumbled something unintelligible. "What she doesn't know doesn't hurt her." He said finally, staring into his flask of whiskey. "If we try to convince her of that fact, we risk turning her off to our cause entirely."
"But if she finds out on her own – she'll face an emotional dilemma for sure, but one that might inevitably sway her to our cause."
Phillips raised an eyebrow skeptically. "What are you on to?"
"What evidence was uncovered at the main-base? After the battle?"
"There's still a large chunk of it that we haven't examined yet – we covered the bulk of Schmidt's laboratory but there are dozens of hidden entries and exits were found. Hundreds of square feet that we haven't had a chance to investigate yet."
"What was found in Schmidt's lab?"
"Mostly paperwork, a handful of personal items. What are you getting at, Leigh?"
Leigh sat up, rubbing at the scar at his hairline thoughtfully. "Schmidt wore a mask, right? That's how he concealed his identity. But after he revealed himself to Rogers, he was never observed wearing it again."
Phillips grumbled impatiently. "Rogers said he burned the thing – of course he never wore it again."
"But Rogers reported that months ago. He must have kept several masks on hand – he needed to have one to wear before the girl – or else his disguise would be blown. Zola said that she hated the Red Skull – that she was oblivious to the fact that he and Schmidt were the same person. She's focused all of her hatred for HYDRA onto him – she's convinced that he brainwashed Schmidt into going along with HYDRA's plans."
"But why would Schmidt have told her that? Why would he have convinced her that he and this 'Red Skull' are two different people? That doesn't make any sense – it certainly wouldn't help win her to his cause."
"Guilt perhaps? She was only the relative he had, the only possible heir for HYDRA. She was orphaned – his sister was her mother; he took it upon himself to adopt the girl. He had to have been emotionally connected to her – otherwise, the girl wouldn't be so adamant about convincing us to believe that Schmidt's simply been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the Red Skull's the real bad guy here. She hates the Red Skull and by default she hates HYDRA and HYDRA's plans. Perhaps that in itself was too much for Schmidt to bear – having his own niece hate HYDRA's plans. Perhaps he had explained his goals to her and she saw it as insanity. The 'Red Skull' might be a scapegoat to divert the blame. He's giving her someone to hate."
Leigh cleared his throat and continued. "Or, fear. Maybe he was afraid to reveal himself to her – felt that she would see him as a monster and want to get the hell out of dodge. He's not exactly attractive."
Phillips looked grim. "Johann Schmidt doesn't exactly strike me as the type to be easily guilted. Or afraid. The bastard's as narcissistic as they come."
"But this was his niece, sir. His only living relative – his only heir. Every man, no matter how evil, is capable of feeling love. And through that, fear and guilt. If we can humanize Schmidt – see him as she does – we can find his weakness. Or better yet, Athena can find his weakness. What did you find in Schmidt's desk at the lab in the Alps?"
"Paperwork." Phillips answered flatly, looking supremely skeptical. "Personal items – photographs. I forget the rest. Nothing notable."
"May I have a look at them?"
Phillips rolled his eyes. "Well sure, Leigh. You want to fly up to the Alps right now and have a look for yourself through some nutcase's desk drawers? Knock yourself out."
Leigh stared at him with utter sincerity. "When's the earliest flight out, sir?"
"I really oughtta kick your ass."
"You can do whatever you'd like to me, Colonel. So long as you can approve my leave to go to the Alps for a few days. And if you let me take the girl with me."
Phillips glared at him, propping his elbows on his desk. "What is this going to achieve, Captain Leigh? What is one more man's report on a madman's desk going to achieve?"
"I want to see if Schmidt left a mask in his desk."
"A mask. A damn mask. You're shitting me, right?"
"No, sir. If the girl comes upon that mask in the Alps – her ideas of what her uncle is and isn't will be shattered. And it could prove immediately to us whether or not she's trustworthy. If she discovers that Schmidt and the Red Skull are the same person, she will discern from there who she wants to fight for and who she wants to fight against. And if she chooses to fight against us, we'll destroy her on the spot."
"Will we now?"
"Can you think of any other way to prove her merit, Colonel? We can put her on the battlefield and decide from there, but you've already ruled that out. We have her consent – why are we sitting here wasting our time by not using her power? HYDRA still hasn't been defeated – what are we waiting for, sir? Clearance? We're sitting here waiting for clearance knowing full well that Captain Rogers gave his life only days ago in an effort to stop HYDRA – to protect thousands of innocents from a regime that could destroy humanity within hours. We have a weapon with the capacity to destroy HYDRA, but we're just going to sit here and let good men die for a futile cause because we need some politician's security clearance? Is that what Rogers died for? Was everything he stood for in vain?"
Phillips' eyes narrowed angrily. "You're crossing the line, Leigh."
Leigh eyed him levelly. "I'm saying what needs to be said. And you know that it needs to be said – you think it too."
"You think you're arguing the case of good men? You should be arguing the case of good soldiers – regular boys with nothing but the guns slung across their backs to defend themselves – no serums, no amped up strength, no fancy shields. Those men made sacrifices. Those men fought and died and their names were never once mentioned in the tabloids, on the news, in Hollywood. Steve Rogers was a good man, Captain Leigh. Not a good soldier. He was selfish –he thought that he could be the hero of the month and save every single innocent life. He thought that because he was different – stronger, faster, more powerful than any normal soldier – he could afford to lose sight of the big picture to fixate on one person. One person that he didn't even know, couldn't trust, but he felt that he had the right to drop everything and save her. How many men did your company lose, Captain Leigh? How many of your men sacrificed their lives for this girl? They were good soldiers, Captain. They understood that war is war and people die. Not everyone can be saved. They were fighting to end the war, to stop the killing, to stop the loss of innocent lives. They didn't drop everything to concern themselves with a single person – they were fighting for nations, Leigh, nations. I will grieve the loss of Steve Rogers, Captain Leigh. But I will grieve for every other soldier I have lost just as much. Steve Rogers didn't have to write letters to families that have already been stretched thin. He didn't have to tell them that their sons, fathers, and husbands gave their lives for their country."
Phillips stared at him with sorrowful eyes. "I can remember every name of every boy that I've ever lost in battle, Captain Leigh. I'm not asking for your pity – I'm telling you to understand that Steve Rogers was no better in my eyes than any other boy that sacrificed his life. If you're worried that everything Rogers stood for is now null and void, well, the textbooks will remember his name in fifty years. The others won't be so lucky. But if you think that I'm content to sit here and let HYDRA continue to take away my men by the company, you're a damn fool. I've got as much against HYDRA as you do, and then some. Try and tell me that I don't want to kick Johann Schmidt's deranged ass all the way to hell, Captain. I'll have you demoted if you open your damn mouth one more time in the name of Captain Rogers and anything else that's 'good and holy'."
He drained his flask and slammed it onto his desk angrily. He glared at Leigh bitterly. "You have no right to come into my office and accuse me of not doing enough to stop HYDRA. What the hell do you think I've been doing for the last year and a half, Captain? Pussyfooting around hoping to God that Schmidt screws up? I've been busting my ass round the clock trying to wrap my head around how that nutcase does it. And you, Captain? You must have one hot date with a court martial if you're gonna keep runnin' your mouth like you know so much better. Now you look me in the eyes, Captain, and tell me right now. Do you want to keep your rank tabs or do you want to start back at square one – Private."
Leigh was silent. Phillips nodded at him grimly, affirming his unspoken answer – he dearly wanted to keep his rank tabs.
"Now, I'm saying to hell with the Brits – we've got this girl, and I'm going to make damn sure we use her accordingly. But we can't do anything with her until we find where HYDRA has retreated to. We've got every single base occupied – there has to be another facility that we don't know about."
"Perhaps Athena might be able to offer some input? She certainly knows Schmidt well enough – maybe she could suggest a location – maybe he divulged to her a hidden location, a stronghold for reinforcements in case of an emergency."
"Somehow I doubt that Schmidt would tell her where his 'emergency hideout in case of SNAFUS' is located." Phillips answered drily. He cleared his throat. "But then again – we have absolutely nothing to go off of whatsoever so we might as well have a chat with her. If she's obliging."
"She'll be glad to oblige, sir. I think we can count on it."
XXX
Johann Schmidt's Private Chalet
Alsace, France – 1943
Approximately 1700 Hours
"You have heard nothing from the reconnaissance squadron, Lieutenant?" His voice was deep and cold – weighing heavily against the silence of the room. An officer stood before him, lanky, bony, and fatigued. His uniform was disheveled, his eyes red-rimmed. So very human – vulnerable, easily overtaken by deprivation. It disgusted him.
The officer licked his lips nervously and nodded. "Yes, Herr Schmidt." He wrung his gloved hands. "It has been forty-eight hours since they last contacted the base. They were scheduled to radio back today at 1200 hours – to evade the risk of the transmissions being intercepted by the Allies in central London. Still no word. We await your command to dispatch scouts to investigate – to do so would be to inevitably reveal our existence to the Allies, mein Herr. What would you have us do, sir?"
"It has already been revealed to the Allies, Lieutenant. I would think that that much would be obvious."
The Lieutenant looked dumbfounded. "But sir – "
"How else would you explain their disappearance, Lieutenant? Were they abducted by aliens? Eaten by wolves? The gods only know what horrors lie in wait in the London suburbs."
The young officer paled. "Mein Herr, our forces were meant to observe, not to attack. Their disappearance is – unexplainable." He sounded utterly flabbergasted.
Johann massaged his temples in vexation. "Of course they were meant to observe, Lieutenant. They were meant to observe up until the point that they were observed – in which case observing would be both futile and stupid, don't you think?"
"If they were caught – if they were ambushed by the Allies – there would have been survivors."
"So you are suggesting that the Allies are now morally above taking hostages?"
He deeply enjoyed the bewildered look of confusion on the officer's face.
The Lieutenant swallowed hard. "Even if the Allies had been at their top fighting capacity, sir – at least a fraction of our men would have escaped. As it is, the Allied forces at the London base are strained – a large percentage of them are occupying our bases in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. They couldn't possibly be able to capture or kill all of our men – especially not with our superior weaponry. It simply does not make sense."
"That is true enough, unless they were to possess a weapon capable of annihilating our forces." He said this slowly, measuring his words with care. He watched as the officer's bewildered expression only intensified.
"You are suggesting they have Fraulein Hofstadter. Of course – she would be the only one powerful enough to – they are using her as a weapon against us."
Johann closed his eyes, exhaling sharply. He ran his tongue across his teeth, subduing the spark of angered irritation that was smoldering in his chest.
"Congratulations, Lieutenant." His tone was chillingly coy. "You have solved the elusive phenomenon."
The boy's face was white as a sheet, the realization of his own stupidity dawning on him. Johann smiled at him sweetly, as if chiding a misguided child. "Don't look so peaked, Lieutenant. I understand your confusion, your – bewilderment. You need not fear punishment. I have lost too many men to our dear – late – friend Steven Rogers. I assure you I will not kill you today."
The lieutenant swallowed, finding no solace in his superior's lilting tone.
Johann's crimson lips curled into a savage snarl and when he spoke, his tone was suddenly cold, resuming its harsh authority. "Yes, only she would be capable of destroying our troops so swiftly – without a trace of evidence left behind. Although I deeply regret the loss of such a fine battalion, we can be soundly reassured that the Allies are in fact holding her in London. However, we have gained such information at a considerable price. Captain Rogers' cronies have no doubt realized that HYDRA lives on – and, so does their leader."
He turned his chair away from the silent Lieutenant, gazing out the large windows of the Chalet onto the Alsatian mountains beyond, lushly green at this time of year. The sky above, however, was shrouded in thick, black storm clouds, heavy with April downpours. Volatile, unpredictable, and vindictive. The calm of Spring, suddenly ready to unleash its vengeance like a howling beast, wreaking havoc on the vegetation below.
"Still, with all of our bases occupied by American forces, they will no doubt be hard-pressed to find our exact location – the construction of this stronghold is still fairly new and I have kept its existence a closely guarded secret. The Americans might be aware of HYDRA's activity, but certainly not the source of its power. My niece knows nothing of this stronghold and would be unable to provide them with any useful information if she is interrogated. If we see to it that all HYDRA personnel are outfitted in civilian clothing and dispatched at intervals, avoiding mass incursions, we should be able to carry on our endeavors with relatively few interruptions."
He turned back to the officer, who stared pensively ahead.
"How would you like us to proceed, sir? Shall I initiate another reconnaissance mission to ensure that Fraulein Hofstadter's location has not changed? Or shall we begin making the necessary preparations to initiate a rescue mission?"
Johann sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "It is too early to attack – I would prefer to see the Americans struggle to find us before we reveal ourselves entirely. However, you will call upon our more covert contacts in England and arrange for staggered surveillance shifts – more subtle than our first group approach. Yes, that shall suffice for the time being."
"As you wish, mein Herr."
"Excellent. You are dismissed, Lieutenant."
The officer clicked his heels, barked "Hail HYDRA!", and swiftly exited the room.
Johann waited until the click of the officer's boots faded into silence, the shadows of the burgeoning storm-clouds darkening the room. He laid his head back, his slender crimson fingers massaging his brow bones methodically. He supposed he should have felt furious – violent, lusting for carnage, destruction – something.
Yet, he found he did not have the energy to feel much of anything, let alone fatigue. Only the longing for cigarettes and a fine bottle of Alsatian wine nagged at him persistently. After a few moments of contemplating, he finally stood up, stretching out his spine and cracking his jaw, loosening muscles that had been tightly bound. He placed a cigarette in his long, black holder, lit it, inhaled deeply, and retrieved a bottle of wine from the liquor cabinet. After pouring himself a glass of a particularly smooth Pinot Noir, he slumped back into his chair.
He felt – not angry, but rather – dejected. Of course, he now possessed invaluable information regarding his niece's location – it was obvious that the Americans had discovered his reconnaissance squadron given that seemingly none of his men had survived, and of course, only one individual would have the capability of single-handedly destroying every single one of those men.
Yet, one thing irked him immensely, and it tugged at his mind with a profuse insistence.
She could not have possibly been forced to destroy his men. Even if the Americans had held her at gunpoint, her immense power would have enabled her to overtake them within moments. And, furthermore, unless his men had been stupid enough to attack rather than maintain a strict surveillance mission, there was no way the Americans would have noticed them. Dressed in civilian clothing with flawless English – only Mina would have been able to recognize them, by appearance at least.
He could not delude himself and hang on to the false hope that Mina had not voluntarily destroyed his men.
She had recognized them and she had chosen to destroy them.
The idea sounded preposterous, yet, he felt so very certain that it was the truth. So very certain that the fear that had been paralyzing him, haunting his every thought, nagging at his psyche so persistently – so very certain that the fear had become a reality.
The fear that she had wanted to be captured by the Americans, the fear that she had wanted to flee, had wanted – desperately – to be far, far away from him.
He simply could not fathom it. He couldn't understand it and did not want to; he did not want to accept the idea that his most brilliant feat rejected everything he stood for. It did not work – it did not fit into to his crystal-clear vision of the world when it was completely under his control.
Mina was central to the entire equation – the entire solution to the problem that wracked the earth's core, the plight that was humanity, the plague they spread, ravaging every surface of civilization. He had been so certain that he could win her to his cause, despite her apprehension. He relied so strongly on her utter loyalty and devotion to him – he knew that she would support him, no matter how vehemently she rejected his ideas.
And yet, that foolish hope had been shattered. He could no longer afford to cling helplessly to the idea that Mina would defer to HYDRA's strength. He had had her tortured, imprisoned – and still, she had attempted escape. He would be a fool to still believe that there was hope for her, a chance for her to be redeemed. A small part of him desperately longed to be proved wrong, to find that the Americans had taken his men hostage, or killed them all – to find that Mina had been nowhere near the Reconnaissance squadron, perhaps locked away in a cinderblock cell, crying out desperately for his aid.
But deep within the blackened crevices of his heart, he knew the truth. She truly did hate HYDRA, and through that, she hated him. And, worse still, was that she had no idea that she hated him. She only knew that she hated the Red Skull.
Absently, he lit another cigarette, his first burnt down to ash.
He felt – distraught. Tired, listless, and distraught. It was as if he had nowhere to turn, no sense of direction, no clear target. For Mina had been absolutely central to his goals and now – now he wondered what his equation would look like if he removed Mina from it entirely. His heart was broken in two, although it had been that way for so long that he felt it hardly existed anymore. So many heartbreaks and so many failures – so much grief and sorrow. But his sorrows had always been amended with anger. Through rage, he found focus and clarity.
And, so he continued to wonder – what would it be like if his equation did not include her? What would it be like if, instead of trying hopelessly to gain her approval, he simply abandoned the idea entirely?
Like a variable being removed from a mathematical equation, he could remove her from his vision. Not entirely, of course – he couldn't possibly exterminate her, as he intended to do with the majority of the human race in its present form. No, he would simply remove her as a fundamental variable, as the key weapon in his vision. He had power enough in his manufactured weapons – each imbued with the Tesseract's power, each capable of decimating the earth a thousand times over – and then some. No, he hardly needed Mina to succeed. She merely simplified the process – with patience, his vision could be fulfilled without her completely.
He ran a slender, crimson hand across the rigid contours of his face, remembering with distaste the silicon mask that had so often concealed his true nature. However painful it seemed now, his niece's vehement hatred of the Red Skull served as a convenient diversion – one that he could easily use to his advantage. She was still so very unaware of his relation to the monster she abhorred, and unless the Americans had convinced her that the object of her hatred was in fact, him – although he strongly doubted they would have been successful – she still was helplessly tethered to him. Even if she was to discover that he was the Red Skull, her affections still served as a weapon of formidable strength. He had twisted and manipulated her loyalty to him so successfully in the past – what was to stop him from doing so now?
Mina could still be central figure in the final outcome of his vision – yet, it was no longer necessary for him to agonize over her support, or lack thereof, of HYDRA. She was so malleable, so easily manipulated – why should he waste his own energies worrying over how she perceived him and his grand plans for the world? For so long, he had been utterly convinced that his revolution, without Mina, would fail dismally.
But if Mina had never entered the equation to begin with – if that fateful night in the laboratory had never occurred, would he have given up his plans?
Removing her from the center of his plans entirely freed him both emotionally and logically. No longer did he feel so utterly tied to her – so utterly tied to her flailing passions, her lack of mature understanding, her lack of intellectual advancement. No longer did he feel like the villain, the monster, the heartless beast that had tortured her, driven her away.
No. No longer would he spend sleepless nights weeping over the loss of his dearest niece – his most prized possession. Mina had chosen her role in his Revolution – that of the enemy.
And he remembered his conversation with her, lo those many months before – the Red Skull's oath to her. And when you have fought your battle, cemented your allegiances, lived your life – when you think that all of your worries, all of your foes, have disappeared – HYDRA will still be here. For we are the only adversary worthy and able of fighting you. And we will fight you, if you choose to be on the opposing side. And we will show you no mercy.
He would not stop carrying out his mission because one single girl disagreed with his views. He would not let her get at his heart – not again. She had chosen her fate. She had dared to go against everything he stood for – everything that he had done for her. So be it.
He would be ready, when the Americans unleashed their newfound weapon – for he knew they would, it was only a matter of time. And he would retaliate with the full force of his power. The Americans could no longer hide behind their Star-Spangled Man. They had a weapon now whose power was limitless – yet, she was, perhaps, even more vulnerable than Captain Steven Rogers had been. Her own conscience would destroy her, the knowledge that she was fighting against the very man that had poured his energies into creating a world entirely for her benefit. The very man that had cared for her, healed her, strengthened her, and above all – had loved her with all his heart.
But now, she was his enemy. And he could not let his own conscience divert him from his goals. He drank the last of his wine and stood up, gazing steadfastly at the storm clouds beyond, readying to unleash their torrent on the earth below. After a moment, he pressed the intercom button on his desk.
"Lieutenant, summon all officers' to the boardroom immediately. Tonight, we begin planning our next strike."
"You have a target in mind, mein Herr?" The officer's voice crackled over the intercom.
He smiled wickedly. "My target, Lieutenant, is everywhere."
XXX
Underground Allied Military Base
Outskirts of London, England
1900 Hours – 1943
Mina lay stretched across the narrow cot, tediously working the kinks out of her spine and shoulders as she woke from her hazy nap. The physical exhaustion of having exerted her power had not dawned on her until well after Captain Leigh had locked her in this musty cell, leaving her alone to contemplate in silence.
It surprised her, how much she had missed Johann. He had been away so often when she was a young child – being left under the care of servants and housemaids had become second nature; to have it home for any period of time had seemed a rare luxury. And yet, in these past months she had been so intertwined with everything her uncle and HYDRA stood for – she wanted desperately to escape it, but at the same time, she felt so terribly conflicted. As much as she loathed to admit it, the Red Skull had been telling her the truth all along.
"And you will be fighting the very individuals who cared for you, who taught you, who raised you. Will it be so easy then, to call us names, to call us evil, to direct all of your hatred at us?"
His words rang in her ears. She did not agree at all with what HYDRA intended to do – Johann had practically spelt it out for her: an engineered apocalypse. She saw it as madness, and the Allies saw it as madness as well. Surely she was not wrong in her beliefs? And yet, Johann had invested his time, energy, and complete faith in this plan – this 'vision' as he called it. He really truly believed in the plan's success and that was what troubled her the most. She wouldn't allow him to manipulate her again – she would not let him twist her emotions in an effort to draw her to HYDRA. The Red Skull had succeeded in that once – threatening to enslave her and execute Johann – he would not succeed again. As much as she adored and admired Johann, she would not give his master – or him – the satisfaction of folding under their constant pressure. If the Red Skull had truly meant what he had said, then she would fight against his onslaught – as long and as hard as was necessary.
And deep in her heart, she felt sure – Johann could still be saved. Johann could still see the carnage and bloodshed and madness of everything that his master proposed, the harsh, awful reality of it all. He could still be redeemed. But she could not give up the freedom that she had secured simply because she was broken-hearted over the loss of Johann as an ally. She would only succeed in justifying the Americans' suspicions then, and they would have every right to imprison her, or, as Colonel Phillips had so icily stated, kill her. She was only as strong as she allowed herself to be, and the thought of Johann merely weakened her. She had been given such power for a reason, and she could not forget her goal.
Rise up and defeat these madmen who play with the power of the gods.
Odin had granted her yet another layer of his strength today – clarity, physical and mental. She no longer felt so helplessly out of control when she used the power. She could understand it and comprehend it, and with that comprehension, she felt stronger still.
"Miss Hofstadter," the strange twangy accent of Captain Leigh cut through her thoughts sharply.
She looked up at him, dazed.
"Colonel Phillips would like to speak with you, Miss. If you don't mind, of course."
Mina shook her head and stood up. "I do not mind, Captain."
Leigh nodded and gestured to the open doorway. As she exited, he added quietly, "I'm sure you'll be overjoyed to learn that Colonel Phillips will be enlisting your help after all."
Mina jolted to a stop and turned to face the captain. "Is he?"
Leigh offered her a wry smile. "I told you I'd keep you informed. I always keep my promises."
Colonel Phillips' office looked no different than the one in the London headquarters, not but a cinderblock closet, a dusty lightbulb hanging precariously from a wire in the center of the ceiling – a jagged crack running through the thick plaster. He looked up as she entered, followed by Captain Leigh, and grumbled something under his breath.
"Miss Hofstadter, sit down."
Tentatively, Mina did as she was told. Captain Leigh stood behind her, his face set grimly.
Phillips rested his elbows on his desk, folding his hands before him. "Alright, Miss Hofstadter. You wanted to help us – you're gonna help us now."
She nodded emphatically. "Of course."
"But before you can help us, you need a little background information – information that this uh, "Red Skull" or whatever the hell he calls himself left you out of the loop on. Almost immediately after you were captured by my men – Leigh's company – HYDRA decided to launch its own initiative, we assume in retaliation to our taking away its prized weapon. That would be you, in case you hadn't realized. You've heard of Captain Steven Rogers, yes? Well Rogers led the company that would ultimately ambush HYDRA's main base in the Alps after we had gotten word of HYDRA's plans. This "Red Skull" took Rogers hostage after he failed to infiltrate the main-base – although, we sort of did that on purpose. The long and short of it is that we attacked HYDRA before HYDRA's big-time weaponry had the chance to advance to its target – we suspect that HYDRA had intended to launch its WMDs almost immediately after your capture – for, well, obvious reasons."
"They wanted revenge because you had taken something from them." Mina stated flatly. "That would be me, I suppose."
Phillips almost smiled. "Oh good, you're catching on to this. Well, Rogers managed to take HYDRA's missiles out of action before any damage was done. However, he did this at the cost of his own life – we strongly suspect."
Mina felt her heart skip a beat. "Captain Rogers is… dead?"
Phillips sighed heavily. "We have reason to believe that he is dead, yes. I saw him mount the aircraft as it was taking off; he believed that the Red Skull was aboard the jet and he knew full well that the jet had HYDRA's missiles on it, or else they wouldn't be in such a mad rush to get the thing off the ground before we got there. We did not receive any reports from him after that."
"The Red Skull was aboard the plane?" Her voice caught in her throat. "Did Captain Rogers kill him? Or did the Red Skull manage to survive the ensuing fight aboard the jet?"
"That's where things get complicated. We've had scout planes scouring the entire area that that aircraft covered during its flight – we were lucky enough to salvage its coordinates from the control room in HYDRA's main-base. We've tracked its flight path all the way to the Arctic Circle – we have an excavation team investigating where we believe the aircraft landed – or crashed – so far, no evidence. Not a trace. Either the missiles detonated and blew the craft to bits or the impact of a crash-landing drove it so far down into the ice and snow that the last storm just completely covered it from view. There's no way that anyone would survive that crash. The fact that HYDRA was able to initiate an attack so quickly after that final battle – there's no way they could have regrouped so quickly, especially if this Red Skull was on that plane. Which is why we have reason to believe that he wasn't and that this was a set-up aimed at killing Rogers – public enemy number one in HYDRA's eyes."
"I remember the Red Skull telling me that my uncle was to be his successor if he were to die unexpectedly. He was the most senior officer – he would have had the power to take on HYDRA at a moment's notice." Mina said, her heart sinking like a leaden weight. If Johann had taken complete control over HYDRA now –
Phillips looked unconvinced. "Did the uh… Red Skull have any other successors other than your uncle in mind?"
"Me." She answered bitterly.
The colonel raised an eyebrow. He then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well, trust me on this one – I have a very strong gut-feel that the Red Skull is alive and thriving. Captain Rogers was the most effective thorn in his side – this was the ultimate way to get rid of him and completely screw our operation."
He opened his mouth to say something more, but Captain Leigh cut him off.
"Sir, if I may,"
Phillips nodded tiredly. Leigh cleared his throat. "We could prove that uh – that the Red Skull is alive, for certain."
"And how would we do that, Leigh? Tell me, I'm curious." Phillips scoffed.
"We could arrange for Miss Hofstadter to contact him personally."
Mina gagged. "You think I want to speak to that bastard? I'll help you in any way I can but I'm not about to try and mend any burned bridges with that psychopath!"
Leigh waved a hand at her dismissively. "Calm down, calm down. Hold on a second." He turned to Phillips, raising his eyebrows, as if in some sort of silent code to the Colonel.
Phillips squinted – then nodded slowly, as if in recognition.
Mina struggled to keep from throwing up her hands and shouting at the two men.
"Not the Red Skull, Miss Hofstadter." Leigh added, keeping his tone level. "We could arrange for you to – come in contact with your uncle. Through any contact with him, we could easily – " he looked at Phillips, " – discern whether or not the Red Skull is actually alive and operating HYDRA at full capacity."
Phillips' mouth remained a grim line. "But before we can even think of doing that, we have to figure out HYDRA's current location." He looked pointedly at Mina. "Which is the real reason why I've asked you here, Miss Hofstadter. All of HYDRA's bases – at least the ones we are aware of – are being occupied by Allied forces. HYDRA has all but fell off the map, although we're now aware that they seem to be operating at an uncompromised capacity. We need your help in finding their current location."
Mina bit her lip, struggling to remain composed before the two officers. She felt horribly confused – there was something the two men were keeping from her, and they seemed to be in no hurry to enlighten her.
"If you show me your maps - the current HYDRA bases you are aware of – I may be able to help. I've only ever been to the main Alpine base and a smaller factory relatively close to it. Other than that, I haven't been to any of HYDRA's other bases."
Phillips nodded and swiveled his chair to face the back wall, yanking on a long cord to unfurl a map fastened to it. It displayed a map of Germany, Austria, and Switzerland – every HYDRA base in any of the countries was labeled with a red flag, a black H standing out starkly against the crimson backdrop. Mina stood up and crossed over to examine the map, tracing it lightly with her fingers.
"You have every one of these bases occupied?" She asked. Phillips nodded stoically. She cleared her throat. "I remember seeing a map similar to this in my uncle's laboratory. He only ever mentioned to me bases in these three regions – the ones in Switzerland were very covert, of course. Somehow HYDRA managed to strike a deal with some Swiss higher-ups – they allowed it to locate its off-site labs there. As long as no weapons were being produced – or as long as it didn't appear that weapons were being produced – they were allowed to build bases there. Or, more likely given my uncle's finesse at bribery, HYDRA is paying a great deal of money to several crooked Swiss politicians to keep up their bases there. I haven't seen any others beyond the borders of these regions. With all the bordering nations being heavily occupied by the Nazis, I can't imagine where else they would have bases. Austria was utilized for its close proximity to Germany, and Switzerland I imagine was utilized because it could be kept under-the-table to avoid Nazi or Allied attention. HYDRA isn't friendly with either side."
Phillips sighed. "So you can't think of any other location where HYDRA might be hiding out?"
She shook her head sadly. "Not without one of HYDRA's maps before me, no."
Phillips perked up after a moment of silence. "Miss Hofstadter, was there any place in particular that um – that your uncle particularly liked? Any particular European destinations that he favored?"
Mina furrowed her brows skeptically. "He adores Vienna – but, Vienna is Nazi territory. As is Paris. I can't imagine that it would be too busy of a city – too many authorities there looking to ask questions." She sighed heavily. "I am sorry, Colonel, but my uncle never confided in me where his bases or hideouts or strongholds were ever located. I was only aware of the ones that you have mapped out – and occupied. I really have no idea where HYDRA would be holing up now that their main bases have been overtaken."
Captain Leigh sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking dejected. Phillips remained stoic as always. But she saw something glint in his eyes after some minutes had passed.
"Alright. We tried. But I think I've got a Plan B in the works." He looked up at Leigh. "Call Corporal Bennett in here and have him escort Miss Hofstadter back to her barracks, Leigh." He looked back at Mina. "Miss Hofstadter, I ask for your patience. Thank you for what you've provided me with so far – we'll talk more tomorrow, once I get the rest of your files straightened out. If you'll oblige and follow the Corporal, I'd be very appreciative."
Mina nodded silently, dejectedly, and stood up to follow the Corporal.
XXX
Leigh waited until Mina had left the room to look anxiously at Phillips. "What are you on to, sir?"
Phillips was silent until the door had clicked shut, and the footsteps of the soldier and the girl faded into the distance. He licked his lips and steepled his fingers.
"I want you to get in contact with Dr. Victoria Bradleigh. She's the chief weapons designer in the New York City underground. Make arrangements for her ticket across the pond – I need her expertise on this matter."
