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Chapter 28

The Eve of War

Avengers Mansion

The morning passed quickly for Steve. After his second round of injections, he spent an hour reviewing the information Fury gave him. There was nothing revealed in the interrogation of the Hydra agent, no clue to the Skull's plans. Steve then turned his attention to the matter of Oliver Holder's death. After putting on his uniform, Cap placed a video call to the White House, and the operator put him through to the office of National Security, where the Deputy Director took the call. Cap was instantly put off by the direction of the conversation.

"The facts seem cut and dried," Timothy Varner said. "Director Holder committed suicide."

"I'm not convinced," Cap said, bluntly. "Suicide wasn't in his nature. Why are you ruling out foul play?"

"Nothing is being ruled out, Captain. The investigation is ongoing. It is possible this was murder disguised as suicide. He had enemies, certainly you would know that."

Cap smiled. "Am I a suspect now?"

"Of course not. I only mean—"

"I find it unsettling that you've remained in your current post, Varner, being Holder's lieutenant. There's a question that always comes up in scandals like this one, so let me ask it of you now. What did you know, and when did you know it?"

I knew nothing, I assure you. Top Shelf predated my tenure at CIA." Varner paused for a moment, his expression the picture of thoughtfulness. "We're shining a light over this whole affair, and putting a stop to any unauthorized programs we find. Oliver Holder was a man I once respected. He was a talented, dedicated public servant…but he changed, somehow. I can't explain it."

"I can. It takes more than talent and dedication to run an organization like NSA. It takes judgment and principles, things Holder was sorely lacking in. Tell the President I intend to push for a full public investigation." Cap leveled a stony gaze at Varner. "I'm going to expose the truth here."

"That's what we all want. The President has ordered all government agencies to cooperate with you. Director Holder's actions did not represent official policy. Your country stands ready to aid you."

Cap scrutinized the man on the monitor. He was certainly saying all the right things. He was very young to be holding a position of such responsibility, but he appeared earnest. Perhaps too earnest?

"Thank the President for me, but tell him I intend to stay with my own team."

Cap switched off the connection. He placed another call and quickly had his attorney on the line, audio only, this time. His attorney had no use of video. He was sightless.

"Cap, I was just about to call you," Matt Murdock said. "I just heard about Holder. Suicide, or so the early reports say."

"I'm suspicious. There were people who had reason to fear the idea of Holder taking the witness stand. I don't usually jump to conspiracy theories, but in this case…"

"I'm right there with you," Murdock said. "I have friends in Washington. Let me make some calls, see what the talk is."

"See what you can find on Timothy Varner. He was Holders second-in-command. I'm sure most of the interesting information on him is classified."

Murdock smiled. "I'm pretty good at sniffing out secrets. I'll call you when I have something, Cap."

As Cap hung up, there was a rap on the door. Jarvis came in, holding a tray. "Good afternoon, Cap," he said, setting out a spread of coffee, croissants, and fresh fruit. Cap smiled.

"Jarvis, what would we do without you?"

"Well, you wouldn't eat regularly, that much is certain," Jarvis said, pouring coffee. "The croissants are fresh from the oven, very tasty if I do say so. Now, is there anything special I can prepare for tonight's poker game? I should like to make it special."

"The usual chips and dip are fine, no need to make a fuss."

"There is a need. It is my way of showing…" Jarvis trailed off, and stayed silent for a moment. "Forgive me, sir. I don't imagine you need another person blubbering their feelings around you. I'll let you be, please excuse me."

Jarvis headed towards the door. Cap called out. "Look, if you're sure it won't put you out, you might fix some of those steak sandwiches."

"With spicy mustard?"

"And provolone. But only if it's not too much trouble."

"It will be no trouble at all, Cap," the middle-aged butler said, smiling broadly as he left the room.

Cap dug in, eating most of what was there, and drinking all the coffee. Keeping an eye on the time, he stood and headed to the door, when a wave of nausea crashed over him. He made it to the bathroom in time, barely. Pain wracked his body with every heave, his stomach rejecting the recently delivered contents. With his nerve endings burning and his muscles locked in spasm, he slumped to the floor, gritting his teeth against the pain. Minutes passed. The sickness left, but the weakness remained. He stood, his legs unsteady, and rinsed the bitter foulness from his mouth. Peeling off his mask, he met his gaze in the mirror.

"Admit it. You're afraid."

That confession burned worse than the sickness had. He felt thirteen-years old again, lying on his bed, listening through the closed door as the doctor whispered to Uncle Mike and Aunt Penny the dreaded words polio, and paralysis. He'd almost forgotten how terrifying it felt to be helpless, a prisoner of his own body. He met his gaze in the mirror, holding it fast.

"You can't punch your way out of this one, Rogers. You're sick, you're dying, and you're scared." Slowly, he put his mask back on, fastening it in place. "That leaves you with one of two options. Crawl back into bed and pray for a miracle...or get back to work."

Straightening up, Steve made his way to the door, willing his legs to be steady. He slipped out of the mansion unseen.

. . .

The White House

Timothy Varner watched the screen go dark. He sat impassively, for a long pass of time, considering what Captain America told him. Not the words, but the meaning behind them. He pressed the intercom. "Jennifer, hold my calls for the next hour."

"Yes, sir. I just want to remind you of your meeting with the President at noon. Is there anything I can do to help you prepare?"

"No, but thank you for asking, Jennifer."

Varner smiled. Jennifer was a fine aide, and a fine looking woman, as well. She desired him. The signs were subtle, but they were there. Was it possible he desired her, as well? That struck him odd; he was gay, wasn't he? At least he had been gay in another life, although he concealed that fact utterly. Was he still gay? He supposed so, but so many things were different now, perhaps that was as well. Anything was possible in the new era about to dawn.

Such concerns would have to wait. Taking the cell phone from his pocket, he pressed a preset number, sending a signal that was routed through a series of satellite relays, scrubbing it clean from prying eyes and ears. There were automated tracking programs that traced all incoming and outgoing phone calls from the White House, but it was easy enough to circumvent them, if you knew the system. Varner did. After a series of rings, the line picked up, and a voice spoke.

"Your scheduled call isn't until this evening."

"I have an emergency situation," Varner replied. "I just spoke with the primary target. He suspects. This could quickly become critical."

There was a moment of silence. "Suppress for as long as possible. Vanguard is imminent."

Varner sat up straighter. "When?"

"When he decides, that is when. Go about your usual business, wait for the signal, and be prepared. Follow your programming."

The line went dead. Varner slipped his phone back into his pocket, the conversation all but forgotten. He would go about his usual business, he would wait for the signal, and he would be prepared. Smiling, the clone of Timothy Varner opened his planner and reviewed his notes for his meeting with the President.

. . .

Hydra Base Alpha-One

The Skull looked about him, taking pride in what he had built. Hydra was a reflection of himself; powerful, subtle, driven. The atmosphere in the Command and Control center was almost humming, so great was the activity taking place. The feeling was that of a bowstring, pulled to its maximum. There was a din of chatter, but nothing extraneous. All speech, all activity, all thought, was directed to one specific purpose, that of the coming offensive. From behind the observation window, the Skull watched it all. He remained as unmoving as a statue, even as Viper walked into the room. She came up to him.

"You sent for me?"

"Yes." The Skull turned to face her. "It begins. Have all our bases ready for video conference. I will speak to my troops in ten minutes. Afterwards, contact your confederates in Asia and inform them."

Viper took his hand and kissed it. "Hail Hydra."

The Skull watched her leave. Judas too, betrayed with a kiss, but Judas did not have such beguiling charms to recommend him. A stray thought passed through his mind; perhaps it would be possible to spare Viper's life. He could not deny that he enjoyed her company. She would have to be chastised, of course, broken of any future thoughts of treachery, if that was possible for a wild creature such as her…but there was no need to decide such trivialities now. The Skull walked over to the intercom, and put a call through to the laboratory.

"Doctor Lerner, how is your work proceeding?"

The line remained silent for several seconds. "We are making progress," Lerner finally answered.

"You will meet the deadline?"

"It will be close."

"Close is of no use to me. Succeed."

The Skull shut off the intercom. Lerner had never failed in the past, nor would he now. It was his destiny to rule this world; he could feel the wheel of fate turning, opening the path to victory. Lerner would not fail him.

He placed a second call, this one taking longer to establish. A voice answered, difficult to hear over the howling wind in the background.

"Construction team Wolf-One, Major Hoyle here."

"Major. What is your status?"

"We are finished, my lord," the voice intoned with pride. "Hydra Base Alpha-Prime has been constructed, per your instructions."

Hoyle tuned his communicator, showing the snow and ice covered landscape. In the distance laid the remnants of a large structure, torn down and bulldozed aside, with the name Science Station Brown/Engelmann visible in the wreckage. The image focused on the gleaming edifice where that building once stood. The Skull felt a surge of excitement, which he tamped down.

"And the power supply?"

"The generators are on; redundant systems, as ordered. Once activated, this base will be operational for two hundred years."

"Far longer," the Skull said. "Excellent work, Major. Your crew will be well rewarded."

"Thank you, my lord. Hail Hydra!"

The Skull shut off the line, feeling a sense of immense satisfaction. The base was ready, awaiting only one thing: Rogers. There, in the arctic, in the very spot where he revived fifteen years ago, he would cast his brother adrift in an endless sea of ice. After seeing the world fall, Rogers would spend eternity in a state of perpetual, dreamless, oblivion. In the ages to come, whenever it pleased him, the Skull would visit this mausoleum, and would know that his victory over Rogers was not only total...it was eternal.

The Skull stood and left the anteroom, walking to his personal quarters. He usually had his valet dress him, but not today. He stood before the mirror and stripped off his clothing, gazing at his true form. He was a skeleton, naked but for the ruby ring on his right hand. A spirit burned within his bones, like frozen fire. He turned his vision in on himself. For one minute, then two, he stood motionless. Slowly, the scarlet hue of his bones deepened, dropping to a purple-red. The color was manifold; a heart's blood; a ram's blood, splashed upon stone; the blood of the dead; the blood of death yet to come…

He opened his eyes. Power coursed through him. His strength was at its peak, giving a luster to his bones, like polished marble, stained red. He reached for his uniform and began to dress. Every element of his uniform was carefully designed to inspire dread and awe. His garments were black, with highlights of red and gold, the colors of Hydra. There was no armor, such precautions would be a sign of weakness, and precious little could harm him in any event. This was not a fighter's uniform, it was the uniform of command, of rule. He slipped on the tunic, buttoning it along the side. Upon each shoulder were epaulets bearing the insignia of Hydra. The embroidery was in gold, signifying his rank of Supreme Commander. One last detail remained. One last detail remained.

He opened the box on his dresser, and took out a pin, a small enameled swastika, black, on a circle of white. It was one of the few remaining artifacts of his previous life, for he held no maudlin attachments to the past. Nazism was a failure, replete with idiotic ideas that held no meaning for him. Still, he once believed in it, and it still held a romance with a great many of his followers. He buttoned the pin to the collar of his jacket, and beheld his reflection anew, finding everything in order. He drew himself up to his full height, and headed out to the Command Center.

There were nearly a hundred people working in the Command and Control center. Cries of "Attention!" sounded as the Skull made his appearance. The cameras were in place, broadcasting to hundreds of thousands in bases all around the world. The silence was total. The Skull mounted the steps to a platform high above the floor, festooned with Hydra battle-flag. Resting one hand on the railing of the balcony, he let the moment build. When he deemed the time right, he spoke, his voice low and solemn.

"As Supreme Commander of Hydra, I hereby order Phase One of Operation Vanguard be commenced."

A cheer erupted from those gathered in the room. From across the complex, the sounds of troopers crying out in excitement echoed. In bases around the world, such scenes were also playing out, and the Skull gave time for it to happen. He raised his hand slowly, quieting the enthusiasm.

"Let history record this moment. You are the first. Your ranks will grow…but you are the first. You have struggled, giving your blood and toil, watching as your brothers and sisters fell in service to our holy cause. Through it all, you have remained steadfast, never shrinking from your duty. I have seen you, and I am pleased."

The silence from his troops was total. They hung on his every word, enraptured.

"As others fell into weakness and confusion, you remained strong, a people of purpose, bound together by righteousness, sacrifice, and honor. A new order is about to dawn upon this world-and the glory belongs to you, the first among many!"

Again, the frantic sound of cheering arose. The Skull spoke above it now, not silencing the frenzy, but instigating it. His voice boomed like cannon fire.

"As you dedicate yourselves to me, so I dedicate myself to you! A new day dawns! Let our flag fly triumphant…Hail Hydra!"

Cries of "Hail Hydra!" rang out. The Skull stood like a monument, fearsome and strong. The cheers went on and on, a raw display of pent up emotion. The Skull glanced down to his Chief of Communications, and nodded. The man moved his hand to the control panel, and keyed in the command. The Skull smiled in cold satisfaction: The Hydra war machine, like the Leviathan of old, was surging forward. The world would soon be his.

End of Book III