"What for you is sorely brief, is my everlasting chore. I can end your suffering so take my hand, I'll never let go. Here I am, I've come for you. Look me in the eyes and tell me your name. You and I will go away. You have seen the sun rise for the last time." – Death by Cellar Darling
The Alps, Specific Coordinates Unknown
Approximately 1600 Hours
Germany – 1943
It was a cold, blustery day – the Alpine winds howling ominously. There was an uncomfortable emptiness about the landscape, totally devoid of life. Whatever wildlife had once occupied these swaths of forest, they no longer made their home here. Their skeletal remains crunched under Dog Company's feet as they walked in near silence. The wind made it nearly impossible to converse – it howled so loudly that they could barely hear each other speak, let alone hear any signs of movement among the dense pines. The reconnaissance team had met them at the outskirts of the forest, and quickly brought them up to speed.
Android activity was sporadic – those the reconnaissance team had witnessed in the forest seemed to function as scouts, and they traveled in small clusters, never solo. Their humanoid master – the blond-haired assassin who now had a name, Wolfgang Hofstadter – was rarely seen. But, the reconnaissance team was reasonably confident that he could be lured out of wherever he was hiding. The androids, though deadly, were relatively primitive and required direction and supervision. Their base functions appeared to be scouting, attacking, and defending. They could perform these three functions automatically without the command of a human master, so long as nothing interfered with their performance of these functions. That was to say, so long as the target of the scouting, attacking, or defending behaved as the androids' programmer had predicted they would when the androids were originally programmed. If they encountered a target that could not be neutralized, they would quickly burn out attempting to neutralize it if a human master did not step in and command them to stand down.
"How the hell did you figure that out?" Leigh shouted over the wind.
The recon commander smiled. "We did a little experiment." He nodded at one of his comrades, who silently produced large gleaming disc with bands of red, silver and blue surrounding a silver star at the center.
Leigh raised an eyebrow. "That's Cap's shield."
"A prototype of it, yes. Howard Stark was kind enough to loan it to us – we needed something indestructible to test out our theory. Turns out vibranium is android-proof as well as bullet-proof. It was too risky to just walk into their regular scouting perimeters so one of the baseball players on the team pitched it where they'd see it. Worked like a charm – androids were swarming that thing in seconds – firing at it like crazy. A few of them overheated and combusted. Their boss came out pretty quickly after that – hopping mad. He doesn't seem to be too big of a fan of them himself – my German's a bit rusty but he was calling them all sorts of names. Ordered them to stand down immediately. Things were a bit dicey after that since it got him suspicious – he sent out the scouts, we had to hit the deck and lay low for a while until he was convinced there was no threat to wherever he's hiding out."
"And you got the shield back how?" Leigh's eyebrow remained arched.
The commander's smile faltered. "That's where things get fishy."
"You mean suspicious." There was a hint of iciness in Leigh's tone.
"Not necessarily. From what we've seen – it's in character for him. He didn't do anything with the shield, we had eyes on him the whole time. He picked it up, looked it over."
"And?"
"And then he chucked it back in our general direction."
"In our general direction? So he knows we're here."
The commander sighed. "He knows we're around. But we figure he knew that anyway. And he hasn't sent any androids after us."
"Yet." Leigh muttered. "Maybe he's calling for backup."
"There's no reason for him to do that, Captain. Those androids have massacred whole villages – there's nothing stopping them from wiping us out and so far he hasn't given the order. He's already spared our lives once. If he wanted to kill us, he would have done it already."
Leigh nodded grimly. "So. We take your experiment and conduct it on a larger scale?"
"Athena's virtually indestructible, right? She's the only one here powerful enough to withstand the androids' fire."
Mina sucked in her breath. "That's a big assumption. What if I'm not?"
"You've projected force fields before." Leigh said. "If you can throw up a wall – something to hold them at bay so they can't get to you or us – that would put them into overdrive."
"And it would sure as shootin' get their boss's attention." The commander said.
"That's what I'm afraid of." Mina muttered. "So while I'm doing all of this, you'll be where?"
"Right behind you." The commander said firmly. "We'll help you as much as we can – if he sicks the androids back on you, we'll do our best to fend them off. My troops' weapons won't do much good against them, but Dog Company's outfitted with the leftovers of HYDRA's arsenals, right?"
Leigh nodded silently.
"If it's really true that a single HYDRA rifle can wipe out a platoon? We oughta be at least neck and neck with those androids. The trouble will be making sure we shoot them before they shoot us."
Mina was pensive. She turned to face Leigh. "Captain, there's just one more thing we didn't discuss in London. If Wolfgang Hofstadter turns out to be in no mood to negotiate and I'm not strong enough to overpower him or the androids – then what do we do?"
Leigh offered her a wry smile. "Then we kiss our asses goodbye."
Mina closed her eyes. "Good plan."
XXX
The trek to the outer boundaries of the androids' scouting perimeters was impressively lengthy – what the androids lacked in intuition, they more than made up for with both the ability to hear and see far beyond the scope of the human eyes and ears. Consequently, they marched in complete silence, communicating only with hand gestures or mouthed words. The wind, previously a nuisance, was now a welcome cover – drowning out the crunch of leaves, twigs, and bones beneath their boots.
The final stretch of the trek Mina went alone, Dog Company and the reconnaissance team hanging back a safe distance, in hopes of concealing their presence from both the androids and their master. As she made her way to the clearing up ahead, the evidence of the androids' presence became overwhelming.
There had been trees here once, verdant greenery and majestic pines. But now – all signs of life had been razed to the ground. The damp soil beneath her feet turned to jet-black ash, and a sulfurous pall made the once-clean air thick and heavy. She cast a weary glance over her shoulder in the direction of her comrades. She was now dangerously close to the de facto boundary line of the androids' turf – according to the reconnaissance team, the moment she stepped across that imaginary line, the creatures would be on her in seconds. They had already, in the last twenty-four hours, lost two men who had been brave enough to walk this far.
She felt the heat pulsing in her palms, and inhaled deeply – closing her eyes and allowing the energy to course through her veins. This was her first time on the battlefield since Johann's capture – her first time on the battlefield since taking a bullet to the head and falling some forty thousand feet out of an aircraft with enough firepower to destroy half the world in an hour. Until now, it hadn't actually occurred to her that perhaps she might not have the energy to withstand a swarm of near indestructible robots. Or that with one more step, she might be endangering not just her own life, but the lives of the American soldiers anxiously waiting for her performance to start. Or that with one more step, she might have to look a man she knew only from photographs in the eye, or look down the barrel of his gun, or the blade of his sword –
A metallic humming interrupted the silence – a buzzing almost, causing the ground beneath her feet to vibrate, as though alive with electricity.
She closed her eyes and stepped forward.
Everything exploded.
They were everywhere – swarming – hundreds of them – towering alien beings of steel and chrome and wiring and fire. Within seconds they were nearly at her throat, swarming her like angry hornets.
She threw up her palms, releasing a torrent of blue fire. She focused her entire being into it, envisioning a wall, a shield of electricity, separating her from the buzzing androids.
A forcefield of raw electricity – it was perfectly transparent, and she stared breathlessly at the alien beings that crowded before her. They fired their weapons in vain, bursts of light and fire making contact with her wall of power and bouncing back like starbursts, fizzling out on the air in tiny puffs of smoke. Some ricocheted off the wall and back onto their firers – vaporizing them instantly. When they realized that their weapons were futile, they resorted to brute strength – throwing themselves against the wall in a frenzy, clawing mere inches from her face with long metal digits – only to dissolve upon contact with the sheer force of her power.
But the androids were not as inept as they might have appeared – realizing that her forcefield was lethal, those that had not charged headfirst into it made sure to steer clear of it and fire at her from afar.
Of course, not that that would do them any good either – those that remained at a distance had run out of options other than to blindly fire at her. And, as the reconnaissance team had predicted, they began to systematically burn out. It started with just a few at a time, sputtering and smoking, limbs jerkily twitching and flailing until the metal bodies completely buckled in on themselves, crumpling beneath their own weight. Sparks flew from the head of one, smoke pouring from its glowing crimson eyes, and the head of another popped cleanly off of its neck, hitting the ground and rolling away like a marble.
She held perfectly still, willing the forcefield to remain impenetrable – the power radiated off of her palms in fluid sheets, like water cascading from a waterfall. She stood there for what felt like hours – ages – synchronizing her breathing with her heartbeat, allowing the power to flow through her effortlessly, not fighting it or forcing it, not straining against it. It came naturally and easily to her fingertips.
And, as the moments passed by, she realized that the veritable sea of metallic beings before her had started to part – splitting in two like the red sea to allow someone passage.
She felt her heart stop in her chest.
There he stood – tall, majestic even, bedecked in scaly silver leather – like snakeskin. One arm was lifted high above his head, releasing a long, broad blade with a deft flick of his fingers. It sliced through the air and brought with it deafening silence.
The androids still blindly fired at the wall that separated them, methodically combusting and smoking and burning and whirring – like a system in overdrive, in meltdown. But it was as though they did not exist – he was the only thing she could see.
The androids pulled away from the silver figure who strode through them, like oppositely charged magnets – at once attracted and repulsed. He moved confidently – almost a swagger to his step, his head cocked to the side, the expression on his face a mixture of curiosity and contempt.
Curious at the spectacle that was playing out before his eyes. Contemptuous that his afternoon was being so rudely interrupted.
He was only a few feet away from her now, head still cocked to the side. The long silver blades that protruded from his coat sleeves gleamed at his sides.
"Well, well, well. What have we here?" She could hear his voice clearly – it was velvety smooth, but there was the sharp edge of a sneer. He spoke in flawless English.
He retracted the blade at his left arm with a flick of his wrist, but the right remained drawn. Slowly, he lifted the right arm until the point of the blade was level with her eyes. He stepped closer, nearly toe to toe with her.
The blade licked at the wall of electricity.
"I wouldn't if I were you." She said, in German. "If you value your blade – and your arm – you will step back."
He cocked his head to the opposite side, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips. "What, this?" He retracted the blade at his right hand, and with his left, proceeded to unscrew what was evidently a prosthesis from his arm.
He held up the gloved hand and raised the stump of his right arm. He smiled serenely. "I don't value it too much."
He tossed the prosthesis towards her, as though pitching a baseball.
It vaporized instantly upon contact with her power.
The man's eyes just slightly widened. Barely a moment passed before a broad smile broke his features.
"Impressive. No wonder the Americans are playing the long game – power like that's worth the wait."
He took another step forward. "But you are not American, no – you are like me, one of the fatherland's children. A pity we stand on opposite sides of the fence."
He cast a sidelong glance at the wall between them. "Quite literally, in this case."
"But do we?" She kept her tone level. "You spared the lives of an entire Allied squadron. A loyal Nazi would not do such a thing unless he stood to gain something from it."
The serene smile faltered ever so slightly. "My, word travels fast, doesn't it?" He set to wiping down the blade at the stump of his right arm with a polishing cloth he produced from his coat pocket, almost absentmindedly. "But you see, the irony of it all is that I haven't been a loyal Nazi in nearly two decades. Somehow I doubt butchering farmers is all that helpful to the Führer's agenda."
Once satisfied with the shine of his blade, he exchanged the polishing cloth for yet another prosthesis. He retracted his blade, and with deft fingers, he screwed the prosthesis on at the wrist of his right arm. A quick flex of the robotic fingers to ensure that they were functional, and he folded his hands together before him.
"Now, certainly you haven't come here just to chat with me. You want something from me, and I want something from you. So why don't we do away with these ah… pretenses," he gestured broadly at the wall of blue light, "and negotiate civilly. I have no need for bloodshed. Surely we want the same thing."
"How can I be certain that you will not harm me?" Mina asked, hands still splayed defensively before her.
"Well considering that you have successfully disarmed my colleagues here," he gestured to the remnants of the androids, reduced to a pile of smoking, sparking rubble, "I am vastly outnumbered."
He smiled at her. "Especially if you invite your friends out to play." He cast a passing glance over her shoulder, towards the trees where Dog Company lay in wait. "I won't deny I have a death wish, but I'd really rather go out guns blazing than be vaporized in seconds. I do have a reputation to protect."
Mina kept her tone level. "What friends?"
She could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes.
"Oh come now, don't play dumb." There was a decidedly sharp edge to his tone. He raised his voice. "Come on out now boys!" He called towards the trees. "Really, I thought we were past this whole charade. I've already saved your hides once, what more do you want? I gave back your precious little shield, didn't I?"
He turned to meet her gaze. "Truly a thankless job, this one." He tutted, like a disappointed teacher. "Ah, here we are!" He cast his gaze over her shoulder. "But you don't look familiar – you must be those reinforcements they called in, yes?"
Mina nervously looked over her shoulder – but it was only Captain Leigh, no others had followed him.
He stood with his held erect, hands held patiently behind his back. "We should hear him out." He said, meeting her gaze and nodding just slightly. "Drop your defenses."
Mina felt her heart stop in her chest, and she sucked in her breath. Her hands trembled, but she held still.
But Leigh only nodded at her. "Drop your defenses." He repeated, quietly. His tone was calm but firm. Mina closed her eyes for a brief moment before returning her gaze to the man that stood before her. He in turn held up his hands deferentially.
"I give you my word that no harm will come to you or your comrades – at least not from my hand." He said softly – the edge of sneer that had been there before was gone. He was being sincere.
He cast a pointed glance at the spent androids. "Or their hands, I suppose."
"I will kill you, if I have to." She said, teeth gritted against the strain of her power. But her tone was shaky – to her own ears, it sounded as though she were trying to convince herself.
He smiled at her. "I sincerely hope you do, Fraulein. Just… not today, perhaps? I have some unfinished business to take care of before I depart this world – and I have a feeling that perhaps this business will be of interest to you and your comrades."
He held his gloved hands out before him, palms facing skyward. "If you please."
Mina cast one final glance at Leigh, but once again, he just nodded firmly, his expression betraying nothing.
She sighed heavily and closed her eyes for a brief moment, allowing the power to course through her arms, her palms, to the tips of her fingers. The wall of light that separated them trembled, sputtered, and vanished – like a flame being extinguished.
She opened her eyes, and gasped for air – her chest feeling like the wind had been knocked out of her. The world spun – she felt her knees buckle beneath her, and the ashen ground below rose quickly to meet her –
Impossibly strong arms caught her almost instantly, hoisting her upright. Silver gloved hands gripped her shoulders and his voice echoed hauntingly close in her ears. "Easy does it, now."
And another voice – sharply familiar – "Hands off of her. Now." It was Leigh's.
The hands lifted jerkily from her shoulders and the lilting accented voice echoed again. "As you wish. Though, perhaps some rest is warranted, for the girl?"
"She's fine." Leigh snarled – there was a decidedly protective edge to his voice. Mina felt his hands rest on her shoulders. He barked at his comrades, who had just begun to creep out from the cover of the forest. "Cuff him, now."
He turned to face her, hands firmly resting on her shoulders. "Hey, look at me."
Mina met his eyes, but she couldn't keep her gaze from flickering to him – his wrists outstretched as a pair of American soldiers shackled him in HYDRA-issue handcuffs, the blue essence of the tesseract pulsating from them rhythmically.
She felt Leigh's callused hand grab her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Hey, you good? You were holding that wall up for a good hour."
"An hour? It felt like minutes… or maybe years." She mumbled. She shook her head. "Yes, yes, I am fine – just… it took a lot out of me I suppose. It feels like ages since I've… used the power again."
"We should get going – there might be a time limit on Hofstadter's willingness to 'negotiate.'"
Mina nodded, but she did not move. She continued to gaze in the direction of Wolfgang Hofstadter, now shackled and being led away by two soldiers, offering no resistance whatsoever.
"Did anything about that exchange strike you as odd?" She asked quietly.
"Which part? That he surrendered right away or that he hopes you kill him?"
"Both."
Leigh sighed. "Yeah, all of that was pretty weird." He cleared his throat. "Then again, we did base this entire operation on the assumption that he wanted to defect."
"I did not think it would be this easy." Mina said softly. "I don't like it."
"Well, for all we know, we just walked into his trap and there's an entire army of androids waiting on the other side of the forest to obliterate us."
"Don't jinx it." She muttered.
Leigh offered her a broad grin. "Oh come on, you didn't really want to leave here without a fight, did you?"
But he grew more serious and drew her aside. "Mina, when we question him – I don't want to show our hand too early. I know Phillips told you to appeal to him on an emotional level, but Phillips was also expecting the possibility that he'd put up a fight or hesitate. I don't want you to get too… emotionally involved in this until we know for sure what his intentions are, do you understand? If he is trying to manipulate us, it could end up doing more harm than good if you tell him who you are right up front. It could give him the idea that you're a weak link in the chain, that you're more likely to believe every word he says purely out of sympathy for him."
"I understand, Captain." Mina said.
Leigh nodded, but his hand had moved to her shoulder as he had spoken, and it remained firmly planted there. There was a look of apprehension in his eyes – a sense of unease. "I just don't want you getting hurt. We have no idea what he's going to say, but if he makes himself out to be a saint, I don't want you – or anyone else, me included – taking his word for it right away."
Mina smiled at him faintly. "Captain, I have been manipulated my whole life by a man who claimed to be acting only out of my best interests. Unfortunate as it is, I am quite experienced in seeing through the smoke and mirrors. I know when I am being deceived."
Leigh sighed but nodded firmly. "Well – lets go have a chat with our new friend."
XXX
The reconnaissance team's encampment was not far from the coordinates at which the androids and their enigmatic master had been spotted. Sheltered by thick pines, it served as a buffer against the howling winds and from unwanted intruders.
The tent of the reconnaissance team leader now served as an impromptu interrogation room, Wolfgang Hofstadter at one side of a rickety table, Captain Leigh and Mina at the other. Members of the reconnaissance team stood guard outside the tent's entrance, and two others stood directly behind Hofstadter, rifles slung across their chests, ready to fight him if at all necessary.
Leigh rested his hands on the table before him and cleared his throat. "So. You said you wanted something from us."
Hofstadter nodded his head minutely. He had removed his cap, revealing a shock of white-blond hair beneath it, perfectly gelled and not a single strand out of place. Up close to him now, Mina could make out every detail of his face – so flawless as to have been hewn from alabaster.
Handsome, with a strong, chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones. Broad-shouldered, clearly muscular even beneath the thick silvery leather of his jacket. He looked exactly as he had in every photograph she had ever seen of him. Charismatic, seemingly fearless, and with an off-color wit – even now, nearly two decades later, he still embodied everything Mina's mother had described him as.
But there was something… decidedly off about him, something she could not quite place. There was a deep emptiness in his grey eyes, eyes that looked so much like her own. A sadness, perhaps – a longing for something he could not have, or perhaps something he had once and had lost. Though his quick-witted responses to every question seemed to embody the very essence of nonchalance, never missing a beat, never appearing to have been caught off guard – there was something about him and his words that seemed decidedly strained, if not pained.
"I do want something from you." He said, still with the same lilting tone. "But surely you want to hear what I can give you first."
Leigh shrugged. "Alright. What do you have to give us?"
Hofstadter smiled, a mischievous glint lighting up his somber eyes. "You want to find Heinrich Zemo, yes? Or rather – you want to find him and… neutralize him, so that the Reich's demise will continue uninterrupted and the war can finally end. How was that – am I close?"
Leigh leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "And if the answer's yes, you're going to tell me why you are just the man to do the job. How was that – am I close?"
Hofstadter's smile only broadened. "I knew I was going to get along with you – ah, Captain, is it?"
Leigh only nodded.
"Very well, Captain."
"So. Why are you the man for the job?"
The lilting tone seemed to dissolve, replaced by icy sincerity. "Because I know what he's after." Hofstadter said darkly. "I am his personal executioner, after all. Zemo doesn't actually do any of the dirty work himself – or at least, not anymore."
"Because he needs to retain his anonymity." Mina said softly. Hofstadter met her gaze, a slight twinkle in his eyes.
"Very good, Fraulein. You have done your research, I see."
"So what does he want?" Leigh interrupted. "World domination?"
"Zemo wants chaos." Hofstadter said. "His needs are far more primitive than the so-called supervillains you and your comrades are used to taking down, Captain. Your commanding officer did lead the charge to take down Johann Schmidt, isn't that right?"
Mina felt her heart skip a beat. Hofstadter must have seen it, for he smiled knowingly – too knowingly for her liking.
"I have done my research too, you see. No, Zemo lacks Johann's lofty ambitions for a worldwide eugenics campaign. Johann is no different than Hitler. Zemo doesn't care about the 'purification of races' or any of that rubbish. He doesn't care about Jews, he doesn't care about any particular religious sect. Zemo is just a sadist. I suppose you could say that his goal is to take over the world, but the only reason he wants to do that is so that he can have an endless supply of test subjects. People to torture, maim, murder, and… enhance."
That last word was said with a deep, palpable bitterness.
"You have been enhanced." Mina said softly. "Your hand, your blades."
"What you see on the surface is only the tip of iceberg." He said bitterly. "Ninety percent of my body is machine. The only organic parts left of me are my blood and my brain. My heart, the rest of my vital organs – all artificial. The brain obviously had to stay, and the blood is the fuel that powers the rest of the machinery. To call me a human-being would be a… rather grotesque exaggeration, I'm afraid."
Wolfgang cleared his throat. "I suppose you could say that Zemo is obsessed with the pursuit of… immortality. When he's not bathing in the blood of his deceased victims, he's busy enhancing his living ones – or those somewhere between the land of the living and the dead. Take myself, as an example. I am a person who should be dead. Most of my body was blown to pieces in a landmine explosion – my leg, my arm, most of my face. Fortunately for Zemo this all happened in the middle of a blizzard. The cold more or less preserved what was left of me so that Zemo could reanimate me after he had rebuilt this…thing.
He emphasized the last word in disgust.
"That's an awful lot of effort to go to save one person." Leigh said quietly.
Wolfgang let out a harsh cackle. "Please Captain, don't think he did it out of charity. Zemo doesn't do anything if it doesn't serve his ends."
"I understand the end it would serve to preserve your body." Mina said quietly. "You carry out his more heinous experiments so that Zemo is not recognized by the public. But what end would it serve to do the same to others? What does he plan to do with his… enhanced test subjects?"
"Well, what do you think he plans to do with it?" Wolfgang asked, resuming his haughty nonchalance. "You strike me as an intelligent young woman, Fraulein, surely you have your suspicions."
"Answer the question." Leigh interjected icily. "Or we're done talking."
Wolfgang still wore the haughty smirk that had graced his lips as he had asked her the question, seemingly unruffled by Leigh's threat.
"Now, now, Captain, there's no need for that tone. I was being rhetorical of course, I did not mean to cause offense."
He paused for a moment, as though waiting – hoping? – Leigh would continue to spar with him. When it became clear that Leigh would not indulge him, he continued on, his tone more serious now.
"Zemo is building an army – of androids at the present time. His human subjects have been much less successful. He's finding out the hard way that there's only so much improvement the human body can endure before it cracks – so creating an army of… creatures like me is not exactly economical – not yet at least. You have seen what the androids can do – they're bumbling idiots, but they're deadly bumbling idiots. Especially when the targets they're going up against aren't in possession of the… talents of the young lady, here. Normal civilians don't stand a chance against them. Neither do even the most advanced weaponry. Bullets, grenades, landmines – they have been engineered to withstand all of it."
"And the purpose of this army?" Mina prodded.
"To keep the war going." Wolfgang said. "If the war continues on, the blood can spill freely and Zemo can continue with his activities. Hitler and the Reich will fall, Zemo knows this. But if the war ends – Zemo cannot keep doing what he's doing. The experimentation, the killing – all of that becomes socially unacceptable in peacetime, unless he were to move all of his operations underground. But he's tried to do that in the past and failed miserably – there's no quiet way to massacre villages, not even in wartime. So he is developing an army capable of withstanding virtually all of the world's superpowers combined. Create an unkillable, inexhaustible foe and you have created constant warfare. That's what he wants. Because then he is free to do what he likes best – create carnage and chaos."
"Constant warfare is not sustainable." Leigh said. "The world will burn out – it would be the apocalypse. Eventually the world's militaries would exhaust themselves trying to stop him, and then there would be nothing left. And if there's nothing left, then there's nothing left for him to play with. So what's the point?"
"Does it matter, Captain? The damage that Zemo can and will do if he is not stopped soon would be irrevocable. Look at the carnage Hitler has achieved in just four years – if Zemo is successful for even ten years, can you imagine the death toll? Because I can, Captain – I don't have to imagine it, I've dealt too much of that death myself. Zemo just wants to watch the world burn, and burn it shall, when the world's superpowers are running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying in vain to stop an unstoppable army. That's one thing Zemo's got down to a science – humans are expendable, machines are not. The young lady here can vaporize as many of them as she'd like, and Zemo will have still thousands more to take their place. Cut off one head,"
"And two more shall take its place." Mina said flatly, finishing his sentence. "The many headed hydra."
Wolfgang nodded. "The only way to truly stop Zemo is to take him out directly. But that will be no easy feat – as Germany's most reviled man and Hitler's last scientist, his security apparatus is airtight."
An uncomfortable silence fell upon them, Leigh staring grimly across the table at Wolfgang, whose cool gaze flitted from Leigh to Mina, as though sizing up the two of them. His robotic fingers were interlaced with his human ones, patiently waiting for one of them to speak.
"So." Leigh broke the silence. "What can you offer us that would help us take Zemo down?"
"Myself." Wolfgang said, thin lips smiling coldly. "As I said, I am Zemo's personal executioner. I can provide you with the coordinates of all of his bases of operations, his factories, his laboratories. As far as the androids go, you've identified one of their weaknesses, but it is not their only weakness. I can provide you with the tools to neutralize them to a point that they can be taken down with conventional weapons – the young lady alone cannot stop all of them, after all."
Wolfgang paused for a moment. "Is that satisfactory, or do you still require convincing?"
"Why are you doing all of this?" Leigh asked. "Giving yourself up to us without a fight, giving us all of this information on your boss – I mean, if you're his personal executioner, doesn't that make you his righthand man? Why betray him? Or I should ask, why pretend to betray him? Because if you think I'm about to trust that you're not just here to try to infiltrate Allied operations, you're in for a disappointment."
Wolfgang smiled coolly. "I would expect no less of you, Captain – it is what our training as soldiers has taught us. Always be suspicious of those who claim to act with your best interests at heart." The smile, however, soon disappeared, and Wolfgang's expression darkened.
"Alas, with Zemo I was not suspicious enough. I had to find out the hard way that he indeed did not have my best interests at heart."
"So it's personal." Leigh said.
The cool gray gaze betrayed the most emotion it had all day – the normal nonchalance replaced by a dark, smoldering anger.
"Very." Wolfgang said darkly. "I have devoted the better part of my life to blindly serving Zemo, and in the process, lost everything I ever cared about. Only to discover that Zemo didn't actually give a damn about me, just what I could do for him. As with everyone who crosses paths with him – as I said, Zemo does nothing out of charity. We are all but pawns. If I can play even a small role in his downfall, I would be at peace."
Wolfgang turned his gaze to Mina. "If the Americans were capable of taking down Johann Schmidt, I had reason to believe that they would have the means to take down Zemo. The Fraulein's exceptional abilities have confirmed my suspicions. You are a force I am willing to stand behind."
Leigh inhaled sharply, seemingly measuring the weight of Wolfgang's words. "That's all very heartwarming, but what else do you want? Supposing you mean everything you've just said, if you come over to our side, you'll still be prosecuted as a war criminal for the murders you've committed. Don't think you'll get off lightly if you switch teams before the game's over."
Wolfgang seemed to chuckle slightly. "Yes, I suppose everyone has an ulterior motive, don't they? Well, rest assured, Captain, my request is very simple. In fact, I suspect it is a request your superiors will be more than willing to grant."
Leigh was silent.
"I wish to die." Wolfgang said. "Only once Zemo is dead or rotting in a very secure prison, of course – I do not intend to depart this world before the mission is complete. But that is my single request, in exchange for my services to you."
"Why do you want to die?" Mina's voice rang hollow, the words thick on her tongue. So his words to her earlier had been sincere?
"Look at me, Fraulein." Wolfgang said, his tone perfectly level. "I am alive only because Zemo wants me to be. I am not a human being anymore. I am his tinker toy, to enhance and reanimate as he pleases. I should have died in that explosion, but Zemo rather liked playing god and defying the laws of nature. I want to finish what nature started – I'm tired of existing this way, I have nothing else to exist for. All I want is peace, and peace for me is death."
"But – but what about your family?" She regretted the words instantly, but she could not help herself – her voice cracked as she spoke, betraying the strange mixture of emotions she felt. Grief for a man she did not know? Grief for a man that clearly did not know her – did not know he had family left?
Leigh shot her a warning look but her gaze was drawn to Wolfgang.
Wolfgang looked at her queerly for a moment, as put off by her sudden outburst as Leigh was. But behind that – she could see, a palpable sadness in his gray eyes.
"I do not have a family, Fraulein." He said finally. "They died long ago."
The sadness in his eyes, however, faded as quickly as it had appeared, and he cleared his throat abruptly. "Right, so assuming that we've reached something of an agreement, I would like to inform you that we have approximately –" he paused to raise his cuffed wrists to his face, examining a wristwatch on his left arm, "sixty seconds, give or take, before my ah… ex-colleagues' reinforcements make an appearance. You see the androids have distress signals pre-programmed to go off if any significant damage to their hardwiring is detected – when you destroyed them, their distress signals automatically alerted the nearest battalion to come to their aid."
His last sentence was punctuated by a loud series of bangs ripping through the forest walls.
The guards at the entry to the tent sprung into action, dashing outside – the rattle of machine guns deafeningly loud.
Leigh looked askance – his expression a mixture of fear and seething annoyance. "Now you decide tell us this?" He yelled over the din.
Wolfgang smiled nervously. "Oh come now Captain, you're not showing all of your cards right away now are you? I had to be sure of your intentions before I committed myself to your cause – now if you'd kindly uncuff me, perhaps I could make good on mine?"
Another deafening bang tore through the woods. Leigh swore under his breath and dove round the table, fingers trembling as he undid the handcuffs.
"If you're bluffing, so help me Jesus Christ –"
"Now, now, Captain, no need for that." Wolfgang smiled almost gleefully, a boyish mischief glittering in his gray eyes. He met Mina's gaze.
"I must admit, I'm terribly excited to see the young lady really in action!"
Leigh glared at him. "I'll be more excited if one of those things shoots you in the goddamned head."
"Oh it would hardly leave a scratch, Captain, remember – I'm quite bulletproof." Free of cuffs, Wolfgang strode serenely out of the tent, pausing at the entryway to face Mina once more. "Are you ready, Fraulein? The two of us ought to make quick work of those infernal creatures."
With a deft flick of his wrists, twin blades sliced through the air, already thick with smoke and shrapnel.
Leigh looked at Mina wearily, Wolfgang already bounding out of the tent, blades raised, fists balled, the grin on his face wide and alight with excitement.
"Let the record show," Leigh yelled over the din, "I don't trust that nutcase as far as I can throw him."
"We don't have much of a choice, Captain!" Mina yelled in return, willing the spark of power she felt tingling in her fingertips to grow and concentrate in force. A last glance over her shoulder at Leigh and she, too, bounded out of the tent, sprinting to catch up with their illusive captive.
Outside, the once-still forest had been transformed into a chaotic hellscape. Androids swarmed the trees like giant, silvery insects – humming and buzzing and ticking and twitching – a writhing mass of limbs and beady red eyes.
But their progress was visibly stunted, their weapons matched in an even stalemate as Dog Company – outfitted with commandeered HYDRA rifles, gleaming brightly with the tesseract's energy – met them with full force.
And at the center of it all, Wolfgang Hofstadter darted about, a blur of blades and silver leather, deftly beheading the robotic creatures with an almost practiced grace. The retractable blades at his wrists, though mundane-looking enough on the surface, were evidently powerful enough to sheer through metal and wiring as though they were not but air.
But she realized – he possessed a clear tactical advantage. The androids, no doubt programmed to recognize and obey Wolfgang, shuddered and twitched as he approached, violently veering out of his way to avoid firing upon him, if not holding their fire altogether. And in those split seconds of hesitation, he struck – slicing through the exposed red and blue wiring at the android's necks and joints.
"A little help here would be nice!" A voice shouted into her ear.
Shocked out of her daze, Mina realized she'd been standing entranced in the middle of a growing battlefield. A member of Dog Company tossed a rifle to Leigh, who caught it one-handed and leapt into action, firing at the frenzied swarm of androids. Bursts of electric blue light lit up the forest, which had grown dark against the nearing twilight, vaporizing the metal bodies on contact.
Mina tried to focus on the tingling sensation that burned in her fingertips, but it sputtered and grew sporadic, her body aching against the immense strain she had already exacted upon it. The channels within her, now accustomed to a clear, forceful cascade of power, seemed constricted and tight. Her fatigue was greater than she had realized – or perhaps greater than she had wanted to believe, her body still weak and easily exhausted.
She felt the searing-hot red fire of the androids just barely graze the skin of her forehead – followed by a jolt of pain, a stinging, burning sensation, like acid. But she was wrenched forward, falling onto her hands against the damp forest floor as something – or someone? – shoved her out of the way and out of the path of the androids that had barreled towards her. A sharp, metallic noise sliced through the air, following by the clash of metal on metal.
"Yes, by all means, Fraulein, do sit and enjoy the show." A haughty, nasal tone floated on the air, not at all out of breath, or even distressed. "It's not like I could have used your help or anything."
Mina rolled over onto her back. She met Wolfgang's gaze just as he sliced out the hardware at an android's neck, and the glowing red eyes dulled and faded to black. It fell into a heap of metal limbs and smoking, severed wiring on the ground.
He reached out with his robotic hand, the fabric of the glove that had covered it torn and burnt – but the metal beneath it was pristine. With trembling fingers, she grabbed hold of it, and he hauled her up to her feet with one solid tug. But, looking directly at his face now, she realized the damage he had incurred. A large swath of skin had been torn away from the left side of his face, revealing gleaming metal beneath. His left eye shown from a lidless socket, stark and gaping, with myriad, tiny plates of metal and screws and gears peaking out from the edges of the papery skin that remained.
Wolfgang must have noticed her gawking, for he offered her a wry smile – making the exposed, robotic element of his face look all the more ghoulish. "Just a flesh wound, dear, nothing serious!" His tone was disarmingly chipper.
But he grabbed at her shoulder with wrenchingly strong fingers and shoved her aside before she had time to even register the sudden movement –
"En garde, Fraulein, look lively!"
Another android rounded on them – but like the others, it shuddered and jerked wildly, suddenly confused by the sight of a master-figure. It jerked and whirred, trying in vain to recalibrate its weaponry to aim for Mina point-blank – but Wolfgang was too close to her.
Wolfgang pulled her behind him, shielding her with his body, and in the split-second that the android stood helplessly trying to figure out its next move, he severed its vital wiring with his blade.
But, like the many headed hydra, the androids multiplied – an ever-growing swarm of writhing, gnashing creatures.
"How many of them are there?" Mina shouted above the din, not even certain that Wolfgang could hear her, so busy was he beheading the creatures.
"Three hundred." Wolfgang shouted, almost instantly, though still not at all out of breath. "There is a magazine exactly thirty kilometers from this location. They were dispatched as soon as my battalion's distress signals were triggered."
As he spoke, Mina scanned the ground, eyes locking onto a discarded rifle – no corpse or wounded soldier beside it, seemingly ownerless. But she didn't have time to question it – she lunged for the rifle and began to swiftly dispatch the androids that were rapidly gaining on them from behind.
"There aren't going to be any bodies." Wolfgang said, moving beside her now, parrying the blows of the androids that were out of her range. "If that's what made you hesitate."
Mina continued firing, trying to shake off his words. She could almost feel him smile.
"Never fear, I don't read minds – just a good intuition. And heightened hearing."
"Yet another thing you couldn't have mentioned earlier?" She shouted.
"Clearly you don't play cards, Fraulein," whack, slice! "Never show your hand too early!"
Another android fell at her feet. They were growing fewer now, or so she thought, farther away, not swarming so incessantly.
She could focus on her aim, holding them in her sights, picking them off one by one like ants under a magnifying glass in the sun. They were vaporized upon contact with the tesseract's power, torn from existence.
"That is a HYDRA-issue rifle, is it not?" Wolfgang's tone was unnervingly conversational – completely nonplussed by the fact that they were actively fighting, let alone in any sort of mortal danger. His gaze was focused on the HYDRA insignia emblazoned on the side of the rifle.
Mina gritted her teeth, and said nothing, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand.
"I don't live under a rock you know; I do keep up with the news." He called from behind her. "Although I doubt my dear brother-in-law gave the Allies his blessing."
Again, Mina ignored him – though admittedly, his incessant commentary was beginning to grate on her nerves –
An android lunged at her just out of the corner of her eye, wrenching the rifle from her hands – nearly dislocating both of her shoulders in the process, so forceful was the sudden motion.
She stood slack-jawed as the android – towering head and shoulders above her – incinerated the rifle with blazing red laser beams that shot from its eyes.
But – finally – the power that had been sputtering at her fingertips burst to life. With lightning-quick fingers, she balled up a sphere of blazing blue fire and hurled it at the android's head, hurtling towards the twin laser beams that burst again from the android's eyes –
An eruption of fire threw her backwards as the heat of her power collided with the android's laser beams, the sheer force of the collision knocking her clear off her feet. Though the android's footing was steady, the explosion occurred in such close proximity to it as to vaporize it instantly – its ugly metal body melting away.
She did not wait for the next barrage of androids to get so close to her. She jumped to her feet. She held her palms skyward, imagining spheres of blue fire, willing the spheres to form and take shape in her outstretched palms – then hurled them at the oncoming androids that barreled towards her.
Their jerking, ugly forms exploded into thousands of tiny particles – like dust on the air, blown away by the Alpine winds.
She heard a low whistle from behind her.
She cast a glance over her shoulder to find Wolfgang, perched atop a pile of decapitated androids, leisurely polishing his blade and surveying her coolly.
"And finally, the leading lady shows up to the performance. Bravo, my dear – fashionably late, but deathly effective."
Mina looked around at her surroundings – the wind howled bitterly, but the air was notably absent of gunfire. Smoke hung thickly on the air, drastically decreasing visibility.
"Was that all of them? Will more come?" She asked Wolfgang, who had retracted his blade and stepped down from his ghastly mount.
He craned his neck, as though straining to hear over the howling winds. He squinted through the smoke for a moment, then nodded once. "That was the last round of them. No more will come – at least not right away."
"Did these androids also have distress signals?"
"Yes but, there are no other battalions nearby – the closest is two hundred kilometers from here. We do not station more than two battalions in close proximity to each other."
"How long will it take the next battalion to get here?"
Wolfgang sighed. "At least a couple of hours – the androids possess impressive speed, but they have been reprogrammed to stay away from the main thoroughfares and avoid any contact with civilians or the military. It will take considerably longer for them to get here now than it would have six months ago. With Zemo's delicate position in the Reich right now, he's had to take extra precautions to avoid another media crisis. Everything's been moved under the radar and out of the public eye. Which buys us a good deal of time."
"Mina!" A voice shouted through the smoke. It was Captain Leigh's voice – his tone was seemingly tinged with panic. He bounded through the smoke-filled air towards them.
The expression on Leigh's face matched his tone – clearly on high alert, his eyes wide with adrenaline-fueled energy. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Captain – but how is Dog Company, and the reconnaissance team? How did we fare?"
"Thankfully, we only lost a handful of men. Seems the androids aren't invincible to our… updated arsenal." But, Leigh shook his head, sighing. "It was foolish to put you back out there so quickly."
He glared at Wolfgang. "If you ever put my troops in danger like that –"
Wolfgang held up his hands, in deference. "It won't happen again, Captain, you have my word."
"But another android attack will, right?" Mina met his gaze levelly. She quickly filled Leigh in on the impending arrival of yet another battalion.
Leigh nodded grimly. He paused for a moment, thoughtful, before meeting Wolfgang's gaze. "Is there any way you can call off that distress signal? Radio in, say it was a false alarm and the situation's handled?"
Wolfgang's gray eyes brightened in recognition. "I have a better idea."
XXX
Private Residence of Dr. Heinrich Zemo, Twelfth Baron of Zeulniz
Berlin, Germany – 1943
2100 Hours
The rhythmic chords of Rachmaninov's Isle of the Dead undulated on the air, rising and falling, ebbing and flowing – conjuring images of Charon silently rowing his gondola through the River Styx. Delivering his departed passengers to the Underworld, a stoic harbinger of death. Ironic, really – he had so intended for Wolfgang, his once-eager protégé, to succeed the mythical Charon as a modern dealer of death. Alas, to the Baron Zemo's great disappointment, Wolfgang had proven once again that he did not share in his mentor's zeal for death or blood, or human suffering in any shape or form, really. He killed, yes – he killed with frightening efficiency. But he did not revel in the death. He killed listlessly – apathetic, detached from the action, seemingly viewing it as a chore and not as electrifying, exhilarating ecstasy. Wolfgang was so terribly mired in… feelings. Grief, self-loathing, anguish, cowardice – such pesky, foolish, weak human emotions. It was utterly disgusting to Zemo, but Wolfgang seemed almost desperate to drink up those fleeting passions, to guzzle them down like the sweetest nectar, constantly languishing in a state of self-imposed misery.
Yes, he treated his work for Zemo as a prison sentence, to be carried out in silent resignation, waiting and hoping that someday, his mentor would release him from the invisible chains of servitude, so that he could finally die and be reunited in the afterlife with his dear dead family – for what other reason had he to live? He had no interest in power, no interest in war, no interest in bloodshed, no interest even in reputation anymore. Reputation – once the most important thing in Wolfgang's limited universe – no longer held any appeal for him. He was a whining, sniveling shell of a man and quite honestly, it sickened Zemo. Had he known nearly two decades ago that Wolfgang would be so easily consumed by such foolish things as love, he would have chosen Johann Schmidt as his pupil and thrown his protégé to the wolves. God knew, Wolfgang would have amounted to nothing without Zemo's patronage. Schmidt, though volatile and equally prone to his own set of fleeting passions, more than made up for his flaws with his brilliance. There was a man with a spine – not a weak, simpering fool like Wolfgang.
But of course, there was a common denominator between the two men that made them irritatingly unreliable, and the havoc she continued to wreak made Zemo even sorrier he had not killed her himself. Angelica Schmidt, some hitherto unknown floozy who had seemingly danced her way into Wolfgang's childish heart one night at the Frierichstadt-Palast, had been the utter bane of Zemo's existence for longer than he cared to admit. Zemo did not frankly care whether Wolfgang married – his own marriage having been one of arranged convenience, to ensure the uninterrupted continuance of the Zemo barony. But who mattered a great deal to him. It was neither Angelica Schmidt's lack of pedigree nor seedy choice of career that irked Zemo but rather, it was her maddeningly iron will. The bitch could not have been farther from the Aryan ideal of a woman – neither demure nor deferent, she insisted on making her opinion known to all who would listen and those who wouldn't, and she served as a perpetual distraction for Zemo's prized pupil. As if Wolfgang was not conflicted enough, at once indebted to and envious of Johann Schmidt for having both spared his wretched hide and stolen his rightful prize as Hitler's poster boy, this loudmouthed, headstrong, and utterly obstinate woman had to parade in and make matters even worse. She demanded a husband who doted and coddled and devoted himself to a stationary life of domestic bliss – throwing the career and all of its trappings that Zemo had fought bitterly to secure in the trash.
Yes, Angelica Schmidt had arguably ruined everything. Had that damnable woman never waltzed – figuratively speaking, of course – into Wolfgang's life, he would still be the crowning jewel of Hitler's Reich. Not a whining, crying, spineless wretch. Oh, how it grated on Zemo's nerves to listen to that boy moan and groan day in and day out about his miserable existence, forced to slave away for Zemo while the Reich was wasting away by the day, soon to be toppled by arrogant American men who thought they owned the damned place. But did any of that matter to Wolfgang? That the fatherland would soon be in ruins, that the blood – the blood – would soon cease to spill, depriving Zemo of the purest ecstasy that the cosmos could give, human suffering? No, no this mattered not to Wolfgang, so utterly consumed was he by his selfish grief.
Of course, Zemo supposed he had no one but himself to blame for the sorry state of his protégé, given that he had been the one to fabricate said grief. The "death" of Wolfgang's wife and child had merely been one of an entire string of plans, all designed to finally rid Wolfgang of petty distractions. The almost comical mission in the Sudetenland had been entirely fabricated – there was no scouting mission, no machinations for lebensraum, that had all still been a figment of Hitler's imagination at that point. But Zemo had Adolf Hitler's ear, and thus Wolfgang believed that every word Zemo uttered had been expressly ordered by the future Führer. So eager was Wolfgang to please his new NSDAP masters that he had practically tripped over himself to be chosen to lead this grand "mission" – completely ignorant to the fact that Zemo had pulled the strings, had engineered the landmine explosion that would sever his leg and arm and leave him half-dead in the Czech winter.
The mission had been designed to serve two purposes: ravage Wolfgang's physical form to the point that he had no choice but to submit to Zemo's experimentation, and simultaneously convince the outside world – most importantly Angelica Schmidt – that Wolfgang Hofstadter was, for all intents and purposes, dead. The first purpose was quite simple. There had been a time when Wolfgang had expressed a willingness, if not an eagerness, to submit himself to Zemo's myriad experiments and improvements – bionic prosthetics, artificial organs, weaponry fused with flesh – anything that would make him a stronger, better soldier. Anything that would bolster his reputation in the eyes of Hitler and the Nazi party. But of course, this all changed the moment he married his wife, more still when it became apparent that the wretched woman was pregnant. Oh no – no, it simply was not suitable for a devoted husband and future father to be playing dice with his life! Not when he needed to be home with his darling wife, cooing over and coddling a wretched little imp. And so, Zemo's hopes and dreams of engineering his own "super soldier" so to speak had gone out the window, all because his young student now submitted to the whims of his wife over those of the man who had raised him, had rescued him from the orphanages, had given him the very clothes off his back – yes, some gratitude indeed.
Enter, the utterly tragic Sudetenland catastrophe. If Wolfgang would not voluntarily submit to Zemo's experimentation, he would be forced to. After all, he could not very well protest to it if he was lying in the snow, bleeding to death. In fact, by the time Zemo's tinkerers arrived to collect Wolfgang's bloodied husk, he was in reality deceased. Only the bitterly cold temperatures had preserved Wolfgang's vital organs – well, those that hadn't been destroyed by the profuse amount of internal bleeding he'd incurred – such that Zemo even had a chance to reanimate him. Zemo supposed he had taken a gamble in subjecting his protégé to such a horrid explosion – he hadn't been entirely certain that Wolfgang's body would be able to withstand the blast, even less so that it would withstand the decade-long effort to put it back together again, like a deliciously morbid jigsaw puzzle.
But survive he had, and besides – while Wolfgang lay comatose and strapped to a gurney for ten years, the Third Reich very well forgot about him and moved forward with its trajectory, right on schedule. The NSDAP could not be bothered to conduct a thorough investigation of Wolfgang's "disappearance" (Zemo made sure of this) and so within a few months' time, the man was officially declared dead, a downright hilarious mock funeral was held, and Angelica Schmidt was left with little choice other than to begrudgingly accept her darling husband's death. Oh, she whined and cried for the party to dig deeper but who would listen to the raving widower of a soldier who had sprinted headfirst into a mission that hardly anyone had even been aware of? And the sister of the infamous Johann Schmidt, no less? Why, by that time, Johann had virtually excommunicated the woman, so incensed was he by the fact that she had not only married but become impregnated by his former rival. Yes, Angelica Schmidt was truly without allies then, with no one left to turn to except the Baron Heinrich Zemo for closure.
And, true to his word, Zemo had – with some artistic license – woven a truly tragic narrative of dear Wolfgang's horrible demise. Yes, it was indeed a blessing that he was long departed from this world, no longer suffering, no longer in what had undoubtedly been excruciating pain. Yes, dear Angelica should not fret, no – she should celebrate Wolfgang's life! Especially with a little one on the way – no, there was simply no time at all to spend turning over every stone trying in vain to find out what had truly happened to her husband. No, no, now was the time to focus on the precious babe soon to be born.
And so, Zemo had gleefully sent Angelica on her way. He doubted she'd believed a word he'd said, but no matter. By 1936, the fateful year in which Wolfgang was finally revived, Angelica had – very conveniently – had the courtesy to die on her own, unburdening Zemo of the unpleasant task of having to kill her himself. Not, of course, that the act of killing was at all unpleasant to Zemo personally – in fact, he was rather sad that he had not gotten to see light drain from her wretched eyes. It was just that, well, killing Angelica Schmidt would have undeniably evoked the wrath of Johann Schmidt, and Johann Schmidt was not an enemy Zemo particularly wanted to have. It was no secret that Johann despised Wolfgang, and Zemo even more (well, it wasn't Zemo's fault that Johann had chosen that buffoon Strucker as a mentor. Zemo would have happily taken the credit for both of the Reich's shining stars, had Johann only come over to his side.) And Johann Schmidt was a man after Zemo's own heart, so strong of a grudge did he hold. Regardless of whether or not he had been on speaking terms with his sister, Johann would have taken it very personally had Zemo been bold enough to kill his own kin. And Zemo could not afford to be hounded for the rest of days by a vengeful Johann Schmidt; no, he had far more important tasks at hand. And so, at the time, Zemo had reluctantly made peace with the fact that he would never experience the pleasure of being Angelica Schmidt's executioner.
But still – the fact that she had lived, if only for a decade longer – had bothered Zemo deeply. For if any part of Angelica lived, Wolfgang would be forever distracted by it. And a distracted assassin is an altogether ineffective assassin. Zemo recalled his words to the boy mere days earlier. Zemo had lied to Wolfgang when he woke up in 1936 and told him that his wife and child were dead. And, that had been partially true. Angelica was dead.
But the child. The child was not dead. And Zemo had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep Wolfgang from finding out about it. Wolfgang knew nothing about the child, only that it was a girl, and only because he had pestered Zemo about it so incessantly in the months after his revival that Zemo had finally given in, in hopes of placating his curiosity for once and for all. But otherwise, nothing – Zemo insisted that the child had died, and that was it, case closed. And, slowly but surely, Wolfgang came to accept it as fact.
But Zemo, on the other hand, had had little choice but to keep track of the infernal creature, to make sure that it never got anywhere close to Wolfgang. The child, named Wilhelmina Hofstadter, had been taken into Johann Schmidt's custody shortly after her mother's death, quite conveniently for Zemo. Johann appeared to be convinced that Wolfgang was dead, or if he wasn't, he made no effort to find out otherwise. The girl chiefly resided at Johann's Berlin residence, where Zemo's men could keep easy tabs on her. Where she went to school, where she went after school, who she socialized with, what theaters and museums and cafes and bookshops she frequented (almost always in Johann's company), and when they holidayed in Bavaria, Zemo made sure that the SS officers in Regensburg kept him appraised of their whereabouts (another benefit to Johann's "excommunication" – the man was never without an SS detail tailing him, except perhaps in his Alpine hideaway). There were occasional hiccups here and there, of course. Johann was not stupid – he knew when he was being followed and he did not take kindly to it. But fortunately for Zemo, Johann seemed to be convinced that it was him the SS detail was following – not his young charge.
In knowing where the girl was at all times, Zemo could keep Wolfgang well away from her, sending his protégé far away into the mountains and pastures of rural Germany, far away from Berlin or Regensburg or wherever the girl happened to be. And, for the past seven years, things had been going swimmingly. Wolfgang was off frolicking through Germany, leaving a trail of utter destruction in his wake, and the infernal creature ignorantly went about her life under Zemo's watchful eye. Until, that is, several months ago, when the girl all but fell off the map.
The first few months of the girl's absence posed a concern, but not one that merited extreme panic. It did not take long for Zemo's contacts to determine that the girl had indeed been in the Alps, no doubt cloistered deep within the bowels of Johann's plush facility. Most unfortunately, however, the beginning of HYDRA territory marked the end of the long arm of Zemo's surveillance. If Johann did not take kindly to being tailed during his leisure hours, he appreciated it even less during his working ones. Zemo had tried on several occasions to breach HYDRA's ironclad security at any number of its bases – and each attempt had ended worse than the last. As Zemo vividly recollected, the last attempt had ended with the castrated corpse of his reconnaissance commander being quite literally dropped at his front doorstep, with a handwritten note from Johann stuffed into the dead man's mouth. (The note, written in a rather colorful vernacular, kindly beseeched Zemo to cease and desist, lest he wished to be castrated also.)
With that cheerful memory aside, yes, Zemo's surveillance of the girl ended in the Alps. Unless he felt inclined to wage a full-scale war against HYDRA – which, though undeniably tempting, he did not, if he wanted to avoid permanent relegation to Hitler's blacklist – whatever went on within HYDRA territory was securely out of the scope of his vision. But things had stayed relatively quiet during those months. HYDRA continued its activities as normal – whatever those were, really. Marching about screaming to the heavens that Johann Schmidt was really Odin in human form? Trying to find a brilliant plastic surgeon who could do something for that godawful underbite? He could have at least designed a mask that didn't so closely resemble the emaciated goblin he'd looked like before – "the accident." Really, if one was going to parade around in a mask all day, the least they could do would be to make it somewhat attractive. Granted, Zemo supposed Johann deserved some credit. It was widely rumored that HYDRA had engineered the death of that insufferable Captain America.
Zemo stroked the smooth silken fabric of the hood that was now permanently attached to his face, courtesy of Herr Kapitän. Really, that was something Zemo, Johann, and the entirety of the Nazi party could have readily agreed on: the flag-festooned bastard needed to go.
There had been a brief sighting of the girl at Schmidt's Berlin residence in the springtime, but if she had indeed been there, Schmidt was keeping her well out of sight, and well away from prying eyes. But, not six weeks earlier, there was an incident of some kind – and perfectly timed, at that – smack in the middle of an Allied air raid, rendering Zemo's reconnaissance squadron in Berlin utterly blind, with zero visibility and with the city in chaos.
Almost immediately after the air raid, HYDRA activity exploded into a manic frenzy – the organization putting on the most chaotic, hapless performance Zemo had ever witnessed from it. And hapless chaos was not the way Johann Schmidt operated. A man as utterly beholden to detail as he would never have allowed his organization to conduct its affairs in such a roughshod, spur of the moment fashion. Unless – unless its end was drawing near, and it knew it. If indeed this was a last gasp effort, then the chaos would have made perfect sense.
And then – the Americans! Late to the party as usual, but there they were, sprinting in all guns blazing, garish bravado, setting all of Johann's hopes and dreams and probably the better half of his life savings on fire. And it was all wildly entertaining to Zemo until it became glaringly apparent that at the helm of all of these activities was a young German woman with the unnatural ability to harness pure electricity and vaporize man and machine in mere seconds – seemingly identical to the power that HYDRA had harnessed and concentrated into the ammunition that fueled its entire arsenal.
This same young woman led the American forces into battle against HYDRA – and soundly defeated them, according to the latest intelligence reports. And, perhaps most distressingly of all, Zemo's reconnaissance had sent back footage taken mere hours earlier, of the young woman standing toe to toe with none other than Wolfgang Hofstadter. The young woman was named Wilhelmina Hofstadter, the same young woman that Zemo had spent the last seven years desperately trying to keep far, far, far away from Wolfgang.
And so, that brought Zemo to the very root of his present quandary.
Zemo pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. "Read the transmission again."
A slightly nasal tone cleared its throat from behind the wing-backed chair in which Zemo sat. "Request immediate de-escalation of second reinforcement. Have been taken into Allied custody. Weapon of extreme strength disarmed scout androids and first reinforcement. Will go willingly as prisoner. Have plan to report back information. Will not compromise locations of bases or details of operations. Will report back in fortnight. Repeat: request immediate de-escalation of second reinforcement."
A second clearing of the throat. "That is all, Mein Herr."
A different voice – this one throaty and deep – spoke now. "Do you believe him, sir?" This voice belonged to Zemo's intelligence chief, who sat in the chair opposite him.
Zemo almost cackled. "What part? That he's been captured, or that he supposedly plans to act as a mole now, for my benefit?" He scoffed. "Wolfgang is a terrible liar, even on paper. If he thinks I'm going to relinquish my hold on his very tight leash and just let him run off with the Americans without batting an eye, he's either extremely self-confident or extremely stupid. Unfortunately, with Wolfgang, I would wager it's a combination of the two."
"The female did obliterate your entire squadron of androids, sir. And prior to that, based on our past reconnaissance, she obliterated the better half of HYDRA's troops on several occasions – she is arguably the reason Johann Schmidt was eliminated. Unless he was suicidal, Wolfgang would have been obliterated himself had he not gone with them willingly."
"He is suicidal, you idiot." Zemo snapped. "All the poor sap has wanted since he woke up was to die, so miserable was he here toiling for little old me. The fact that he didn't throw himself headlong into the girl's forcefield is precisely how I know he's lying through his teeth."
"With respect to his so-called plans to act as a mole, frankly sir, I would not discount them so quickly. Wolfgang is a troubled man, but he has been loyal to you from the very beginning. He complains of course, but he's never failed to carry out an initiative, and he's never carried out an unsuccessful initiative. The man is wickedly quick at dispatching bodies. What motive would he have to deceive you now, after seven years of fruitful service, and nearly a lifetime under your tutelage?"
"Hmm, shall we start with his decision to allow an entire American reconnaissance squadron to walk out of our last initiative with their lives? And for that same reconnaissance squadron to show up at the perimeter of our base twenty-four hours later? And for an entire battalion of American soldiers to show up twenty-four hours after that, and in possession of weapons capable of vaporizing no fewer than five thousand collective tons of steel and titanium into the ether with a snap of their fingers? And for my dear pupil to assist them rather than prevent them from swiftly carrying out their mission? Would you have me believe that that was all, I don't know, a coincidence?"
"Well, I suppose it was all rather ironic timing."
"Ironic? Yes, ironic if Wolfgang had not explicitly told them where he was and where he would be and whatever in god's name he was doing because heretofore, my good man, the Allies have never, ever breached the perimeters of any of my bases of operations in the entire European continent. Not. Once. And do you know why? Because to the Allies, I do not exist. For all they care, I'm just some loony waltzing about with pots of toxic glue and their charming Star-Spangled Man so happened to run into me instead of Johann Schmidt on his way to blow a HYDRA factory halfway to hell and left me with a veritable windsock fused to my flesh and an intravenous drip permanently attached to my arm. The Americans would run right past me like a pack of rabid dogs just to get at the infamous Johann Schmidt – my god, he's the icing on the proverbial cake for them. I suppose with Johann in custody they don't know what to do with themselves now, and I'm just the next on their list of bloodthirsty lunatics to dispatch."
Zemo sighed exasperatedly. "No. That whining little prick has been plotting since the day he woke up to bite the hand that fed him. Wolfgang might be a spineless little wretch, but God knows the Americans aren't. No doubt that's why he sought them out. He needed someone with the balls he's so sorely lacking to fight his battles for him. He's too busy crying in a corner over his dear dead wife than to man up and turn on me personally. No, no, let someone else do that dirty work."
The intelligence chief sighed and folded his hands in his lap. "Herr Baron, I understand your suspicions, but you could stand to benefit greatly from the intelligence Wolfgang could provide – if he means what he says. The Allies are in possession of a human conduit for electrical force. You have seen the surveillance footage we have of the area – the girl handily destroyed no fewer than two hundred androids. If the Allies are onto us at all, with a weapon like that – it could jeopardize everything you have worked for."
"Ah, so you don't think it would jeopardize everything I've worked for if Wolfgang leads them right to me, then? Is that it?"
The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, if you look at it from the perspective that Wolfgang is going to betray you – "
"Which I haven't any reason to think that he wouldn't." Zemo interjected.
"Then… yes, sir, it could… jeopardize everything."
Zemo's tone affected the exaggeratedly chipper smile he was wearing beneath the navy silk of his hood. "Which is precisely why we are going to sit back and let this little charade of his play out."
The man wore a positively delightful expression of dismay. "I… I am sorry, sir, I don't quite follow."
Zemo clapped his gloved hands together with glee, leaning forward in his chair. "You see, my good man, you are indeed correct that we stand to benefit from Wolfgang's little game. Whether he actually intends to or not, he will be delivering us intelligence, in one manner or another. I want to learn more about this American battalion – this "Dog Company", as they so charmingly refer to themselves. They seem to be the new successors of that charming little troupe of comedians – oh what did they call themselves? – ah yes, the "Howling Commandos," how gallant. I suppose I should feel honored to have the battalion responsible for Johann Schmidt's rather spectacular defeat pursuing me. But why go after Wolfgang, that's what I'd like to know – he's not publicly connected to me at all. Even if by some miracle Johann Schmidt survived his fall out of the sky and the Americans are milking him for every ounce of intelligence he has, he – like everyone else – thinks that Wolfgang has been dead and buried for years."
"So. Why Wolfgang indeed. Granted, I suppose it is perfectly reasonable to believe that the Americans know nothing at all about me and they're simply… distressed by a man who can repel bullets, has sharp things protruding from his coat sleeves, and seems to carry out mass murders every night." Zemo rose to pace about the room, chin held astutely in a gloved hand. "I trust that you have eyes on him, yes?"
"Yes, sir. The scouts have been tailing the American convoy since his last transmission."
"How many?"
"Only a handful, sir."
Zemo stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Good, good. Regardless of what the Americans' motives are, I don't want them getting the impression that they're being watched. They're no fools, I'm sure they'll assume that they are, but we don't need to make it obvious, you understand, yes?"
The intelligence chief nodded.
"I want to play the long game. Watch and wait and bide our time, let the Americans warm up to their new captive and see if they like the intelligence he offers them. There's no reason for us to get our hackles raised this early – I want to let them make the first move. Let them come to us. We'll be prepared to strike back with a vengeance, when the time comes." Zemo paused, smiling beneath his hood.
"Even if, as it so appears, the Americans have inherited what's left of HYDRA's arsenal, their weapons are only equal to – if not lesser in strength – than mine. I have no reason to fear a confrontation from them, should they choose to wage one. In fact, I welcome the challenge. Such a public attack would present me with the perfect opportunity to try on my new toys – without the Führer having to worry a hair on his little head over the impending PR crisis. That might finally get me back into his good graces, wouldn't you say? Having the Americans utterly slaughtered on our home soil – that would be a boon for the media, indeed. And with the Americans running home with their tails between their legs, I will be free to resume my business as usual, without the need to operate in the shadows. Why, I'll have no need for Wolfgang at all then – which will be quite convenient. That just means that I can spend all of my free time torturing him instead of having to send him to the far reaches of the earth. But of course – I am getting ahead of myself."
The intelligence chief cleared his throat noisily. "Herr Baron, I could not agree more with your strategy – but what of the girl? Surely you are interested in the extraordinary capabilities she could offer to your efforts – a human conduit for pure destructive power – she would be a most attractive asset for experiments. Are you comfortable allowing the Americans to… possess that level of power for any longer than necessary? Should we not be taking any measures to neutralize the girl? Or at the very least, pump Wolfgang for information on her? He has represented to us that he will report back with something – he'll have to if he intends to keep up the act. We could easily force his hand and get him to say something incriminating about the girl."
"My good man, why would I go to such strenuous exertion to obtain information on a girl that I already know nearly everything about? The girl is not some illusive chimera – she is the niece of Johann Schmidt. The young girl who your operatives had been dutifully surveilling until some several months ago when she rather inconveniently decided to fall off the face of the earth. Only to apparently reemerge in the custody of the American military."
"Sir – sir, are you sure it is indeed her? We've never managed to get a head-on photograph of the girl – even the footage taken today is from the periphery – "
"I am quite certain it is Fraulein Hofstadter, my good man. Unless her doppelganger is gallivanting about Europe destroying her own countrymen – although really, those poor bastards working for Schmidt don't deserve to be referred to as Germans – but I strongly doubt that is the case. The last surveillance photos your operatives have of the girl are at Schmidt's Berlin residence, some three months before the Allied aerial strike, correct?"
The intelligence chief nodded dumbly.
"Tell me, my good man, just how lucky would the Americans have to be to suddenly come up with a human weapon of this magnitude not a measly two weeks after said aerial strike? Not two weeks after that so-called incident that had HYDRA personnel in Berlin in a tailspin – the incident that just so happened to occur in the middle of said aerial strike? Would you suggest that that was all a happy little coincidence?"
The intelligence chief lowered his head.
"Yes, it is a pity I am having to do your job for you." Zemo's tone was decidedly less chipper. "Still, it is discomforting to know that the girl is in American hands – more still if Johann is, in fact, alive. Tell me, my good man, do you understand why you have been directed to pursue this child so doggedly? Aside from the fact that she can now apparently create fireworks with a snap of her fingers, of course."
The intelligence chief cleared his throat – with some effort – but there was only a slight quiver in his tone when he spoke. "She is Wolfgang's offspring, sir."
Zemo glowered beneath his hood, the very thought of the little creature leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "Yes, to my lasting disgust. Which is precisely the reason why I had so hoped that the mangey little imp would never cross paths with Wolfgang. The man is already pathetic enough knowing that his dear little wife is dead. Can you imagine how utterly catastrophic it would be if he ever found out that the spawn has been alive all this time? My perpetually wayward assassin is already distracted enough – the last thing I need is him finding out that that wretched little creature is alive and well and that he's missed her decade-and-a-half or so of existence. He'd be utterly useless then and I will not allow that. I have fought too hard for that boy, I will not let him throw away everything I scraped and scrounged for. Not until he has finished the task that he swore to carry out seven years ago."
Zemo threw back his head, sighing exasperatedly. "The girl herself might not know much of anything about Wolfgang, and Wolfgang certainly knows nothing about her, I've made damn sure of that, but if Johann is alive? All bets are off then. No doubt he is or will be singing like a canary if it will keep him out of a padded cell – and the Americans are no fools, they'll drink up what he has to give them far more readily than they will a nameless nobody like Wolfgang. Except of course, that Johann will readily provide Wolfgang's name to them – and mine. And if Johann Schmidt is at all the same man he was ten years ago, he'll be tripping over himself for the opportunity to make my life a living hell."
Zemo dropped into his chair, propping up his chin in a gloved palm. "No. We have to do something about the girl. If for no other reason than the Americans will be emboldened to be even more stupid than they already are with her in their clutches. But simply killing her would be a tremendous waste of her potential. To have such power concentrated in a human shell? If her body can withstand raw electrical force, can you imagine what else it could stand up to? Or, better still – if we could leech out whatever's making her tick and make more like her? The possibilities are utterly endless. Wolfgang's enhancements would pale in comparison to what I could do with her. Oh, but kidnapping her now would draw too much attention, wouldn't it? Then the Americans would be on us like a pack of rabid dogs and while I would so love to slaughter each and every one of their pathetic souls, I'm really in no mood to stick my nose out prematurely."
"Capturing her would not necessarily be premature, Herr Baron." The intelligence chief spoke up softly. "The Americans are clearly in an information-collecting stage at present – they are in no way in a position to launch a full-scale initiative, never mind in enemy territory, and against a "foe" they know little about. They will first want to get as much information out of Wolfgang as they possibly can, which could take anywhere from hours to months, depending on what Wolfgang hopes to gain from his stay in Allied custody. And then of course, they are not complete idiots – the Americans will want to verify everything that Wolfgang has told them for themselves. And the only way they can do that is to conduct their own reconnaissance. The girl was front and center for today's events – I would be surprised if she is not present for any future reconnaissance. And that presents us with an optimal opportunity to capture her when the Americans least expect it – and when they are least prepared to defend themselves. Yes, capturing her would evoke the Americans' ire – but they would also be simultaneously deprived of their most formidable weapon. Without the girl, they will be severely disadvantaged against your weaponry, sir. Even, as you said, with Johann Schmidt's augmented weaponry, without the girl they are evenly matched with ours."
The man paused to clear his throat. "And – the girl is exhaustible. Quickly exhaustible, given what we observed this afternoon. And that is a significant handicap, all things considered. She was able to sustain a sort of forcefield for approximately ninety minutes before collapsing. In the hour or so that passed between these events and the arrival of the second wave of androids, the girl had still not fully revived – it was some forty-five minutes after they arrived before she appeared to have finally regained enough strength to sustain the power again."
Zemo stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting – the Americans clearly are not pushing the girl to her limits if she is still prone to burning out so quickly. Of course, they are such impatient people – so eager to throw their newfound toys out into the battlefield without proper stress testing. Very well, proceed with tailing Wolfgang – keep your informants as close to him as possible, without raising the Americans' suspicions of course. But, I think it is safely within our means to… "expedite," shall we say, their reconnaissance efforts. Yes, let us give them a small taste of our capabilities to whet their appetites. I don't want them getting cocky, thinking that Wolfgang is the answer to all of their prayers. Let us show them just what we can do without his help. That will stoke their curiosities sufficiently, I think. And when they feel emboldened enough to begin poking their noses around my business, we shall take advantage of their lack of preparedness and deprive them of their most prized asset."
The intelligence chief nodded vigorously. "Excellent course of action, Herr Baron. What do you propose?"
Zemo smiled beneath his hood, his mood decidedly chipper. "Have the improvements been made to the Medusa cannon, and the death-ray?"
"Yes, sir, they are complete – there is just one final round of testing remaining before they are fully finalized."
"One more round of testing? I think it would be a positively smashing idea to conduct that final round of testing on a quaint little Alpine village, not too far removed from dear HYDRA's ex-headquarters – don't you agree? Just along the periphery I think, not too close, in the event that the Americans are still scouring what's left of its fortress – I don't want to let myself get too cocky, you understand. We don't want to provoke the poor things too much, not yet at least. Of course, now that dear Johann is no longer in the way to keep us from playing in his sandbox, practically all of Germany is our playground. And very soon indeed, it will be all of Europe. A tantalizing thought indeed."
Zemo thrust his sharp chin towards the intelligence chief. "Alright, you are dismissed, be off on your merry way now. Do inform me of the chaos to ensue – you know I don't want to miss a second of it."
Zemo waited until the man had scurried out of the room and he was left in silence – the lilting strains of the Rachmaninoff record having died out on the phonograph long ago. He stood up and crossed the room to the record-player, delicately removing the vinyl and replacing it with a new one, this time Liszt's Totentanz.
The heavy chords of the Andante-Allegro-Allegro Moderato punctured the air with a forceful abruptness, starkly contrasting the quiet, rhythmic melodies of Rachmaninoff. As the pianist's hands crashed bluntly down upon the keys, Zemo smiled to himself, envisioning the detonation of explosions, the piercing screams of women and children, the rusty tang of blood hanging thickly on the air.
Ecstasy, truly.
And the vision was ever sweeter when he thought of the new weapon he would soon be adding to his already impressive arsenal.
With delicate, gloved fingers Zemo lifted a photograph from atop his desk, holding it up into the bright moonlight.
A young woman, bedecked in American army fatigues. Her hands splayed in the air in a defensive, but coldly resolute stance, a vast expanse of static, rippling, crackling electricity separating her outstretched palms from the tip of his prized pupil's blade.
With a quick and violent gesture, Zemo crushed the photograph in his clenched fist and tossed it into the fireplace.
He smiled beneath his hood, but his teeth were gritted.
"My dear boy, I warned you never to cross me. You think you have suffered all these years? You do not know the meaning of suffering. But soon you shall – soon you shall, when your dear little daughter is in my clutches. Rest assured, dear Wolfgang. That girl will pay the price for your impertinence. And I will make sure that you hand deliver her to me. Yes, that will be a cruel twist of fate, won't it? When I reveal to you who she really is, if you have not already figured it out yourself. However much you've suffered under my hand, I will make sure that the girl suffers a thousandfold more. I won't kill her, no – I'll torture her. Push her fragile human shell to its utter limits, push her to within an inch of her life – only to revive her, and do it all over again. The respite of death that you have pined for all these years, that girl will be denied. Then, perhaps, you will realize the gravity of your choices."
Beyond, the fire roared and crackled, and the photograph was slowly, steadily engulfed.
