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Chapter 40

Invaders

Above the Atlantic Ocean

Despite the storm raging outside, the interior of the Quinjet was quiet, with only the faint whine of turbojets filling the cabin. As the members of the team sat lost in their private thoughts, Sharon got up and walked to the cockpit. Taking the copilot seat, she glanced at the instrument panel.

"I thought this ship was capable of Mach 4," she said quietly.

"We're up against headwinds," Jameson replied, his eyes on the control panel. "I'm flying low to keep us off radar, but it puts us in the teeth of the storm. We also have to drop subsonic before we get close to the island, and it's hard enough to get the timing right at this speed."

"Every second counts."

He looked at her, his eyes steely. "I'm a combat Ace, and I've been to the moon…but if you think you can fly her better, by all means, take the stick. Look, we'll be there in forty minutes. I'm trying to get us there alive, and undetected. He's my friend, Sharon. I'm doing the best I can."

"I know. You're the pilot, John, just ignore me."

She patted his shoulder and walked back to her seat.

"We'll be there in forty minutes," she said, getting the team's attention.

Namor looked up. "I need to bathe in the ocean before we attack. A minute will suffice."

"I hadn't factored on that. Can't you use the shower here in the jet?"

"I need the Ocean," he said, icily. "The sterile water of the surface world is a poor substitute for the Mother of all Life."

"Okay, we'll make it happen."

"That's one problem solved," Falcon said. "Now, have we figured out how the hell we're going to get into that base undetected?"

Sharon activated the central view screen. Melvin Kirkshank's scruffy face appeared from their headquarters.

"I'm sending you a diagram of the base," he said, hammering away at his keyboard. "We're shutting down key sensors on the island's perimeter. If we blackout small sections, we can hide it in their diagnostics system."

"We?" Sharon asked.

"Modok and I."

Hawkeye's eyes flashed angrily. "You're getting nutty on us, Fishtank. This is a Hydra program, why would it help us and not alert them?"

Melvin looked up, his face pale. "Modok isn't a computer program. I think he's…alive. Half human, half machine. His father is with Hydra, and I…I think he did this to him. Hydra treats Modok as just another weapon, but there's a person in there, and he's stronger than they think. I trust him."

"That's it?" Hawkeye said. "You trust him?"

"Yes. He's in pain, and he's…lonely. I can feel it. I need to get back to him."

"Keep us posted," Sharon said," cutting the connection. Falcon looked at her.

"I don't know about this, Sharon. The Avengers have history with machines that think they're alive. It's a bad history."

"This isn't Ultron. Melvin says Modok is half-human, but we're not putting all our eggs in that basket. If Modok doesn't feel right, we have a backup plan to beat their security. Dr. Pym?"

Everyone looked at Hank Pym.

"This is something I've been working on for a while. Most people can't tolerate direct contact with Pym Particles, it has the side effect of inducing tensional psychosis. But I've come up with a particle wave generator, capable of creating a stable warp bubble, a four-dimensional space-time aperture, one that travels in direct proximity with the correlated organic—"

Hawkeye rubbed his temples. "Jesus, Doc, have mercy."

"I can shrink the ship—and you with it. None of you will suffer any side effects, because you're not shrinking…the space around you is. The bubble only lasts for about four minutes, but that's enough for us to fly right inside the Hydra base. They'll never know we're coming."

Hawkeye laughed. "You are the bomb, Doc! I like it."

"I've got more." Pym reached into the pocket of his jumpsuit, a modified design of his Ant-Man uniform. He pulled his hand out and extended his index finger. "Here, this is for you."

Hawkeye looked at Pym's finger, mystified.

"A pepper flake?"

"Extra ammo. I shrunk a selection of arrows for you. I keyed them into your Avengers com-link. Just hit the app titled "grow", and you'll have more arrows when you need them."

"How many?"

"Two thousand. They come in bundles of fifty. I have something for all of you," he said, putting a small box on the tray table on his seat. "Each packet has extra clips for energy rifles, as well as standard ammunition. Smoke bombs, tear gas. Oh, and I have an armored Avengers SUV in my belt. Might come in handy."

Everyone stared, dumfounded. Then they laughed, and began taking the small bundles from the box, and putting them into their belt compartments. Union Jack smiled wryly as he looked at Pym.

"A man could get used to this. Being an Avenger, even a temporary Avenger, is bloody amazing."

"No, not Avenger," Namor said, his serious tone interrupting the mood. The passenger compartment fell silent, as all eyes went to the King of Atlantis.

"Tonight, we settle a conflict that stretches back three quarters of a century…the final battle of a war that engulfed the entire world. You are allies of the Sub-Mariner, Spitfire, Union Jack, and Captain America. Against us stands the Red Skull, a Prince of evil. We shall go by a name no less honored than the Avengers. Tonight…we are Invaders."

Namor extended his right hand. One by one, the others laid their hands on his; Sharon; Falcon; Union Jack; Hawkeye; Hank Pym. Namor spoke, solemnly.

"We will do all in our power to save the Captain and the women, and to smash the forces of Hydra. Blood will be spilled, and not all of us may live to see the dawn. We pit our strength, our hearts, and our sacred honor, against the blackness that threatens the world. In the names of the Gods of our fathers…let us swear to stand united."

Namor stood, and breathed deep. When he spoke, his words shook the walls of the aircraft, booming in his native language, which no one else there spoke. Yet all knew the meaning:

"Invaders! Tol' cal-dadrius…invincibus!"

Silence returned. Their faces were set, brimming with emotion. Hawkeye looked at Namor, his mouth pressed in a hard, angry smile.

"Fucking A, big man."

Namor sat. The members of the team, now united under the banner of the Invaders, returned to their silent thoughts. The ship flew like a steel arrow through the raging storm. The island was thirty minutes away.

Hydra Base Alpha-One

Steve awoke feeling rested, with no lingering tiredness or pain, further proof the illness was gone. After showering, he walked back into the room and carefully laid out his uniform on the bed. It had become a second skin over the years, yet now he seemed to see it with fresh eyes. He dressed, taking time with each piece of his kit, proud of what it represented. Something bigger than himself. He picked up the mask from the bedside table, its deep blue looking almost black in the dim light. He had worn this uniform into battle hundreds of times. Tonight would be the final time.

The clock read quarter till eight. He slipped the mask on, and was Captain America again. He entertained no more thoughts of the past or future. Now was all that mattered. He had one last battle to wage, a battle with no margin for error, no room for recklessness or haste. He would have one chance, and when it came, he must strike hard, and fast. And he must win.

A tone sounded. He turned to see the door open, revealing six Hydra guards at the threshold, energy rifles in hand.

"Captain," the head guard said. "I've been instructed to—"

"You're here to take me to Schmidt," Cap interrupted. "Fine, I'm ready to go. But not at gunpoint. Sling them…or it's going to get messy."

"There are six of us," the guard said, gripping his rifle.

"You'll need about fifty more. Or you can sling them."

The moment held for long seconds. The guard slung his rifle over his shoulder, and his subordinates did likewise. Cap walked out of the room, flanked by the security detail. The sound of the door closing behind him gave a sense of finality.

The corridors were long and wide, thick with Hydra personnel. Some glared as he passed them by, giving threatening sneers, but most looked at him sidelong, with expressions of barely concealed awe. He ignored them, and concentrated on every turn they made. They took an elevator, which traveled six stories up. The base was big, as he supposed it would be. When the doors opened, the head guard motioned out.

"The dining room is at the end of the hall, Captain."

Cap stepped out of the elevator, and looked down the deserted corridor. It was devoid of ornamentation, with no intervening hallways or windows, only a hundred yards of empty walkway, leading to a huge set of double doors. Behind him, the elevator closed. He headed down the corridor, to a meeting that was a lifetime in coming. The doors opened as he drew near, and Cap entered the massive room. Stepping around an ornate dining table, set with fine china and lit by flickering candles, he came to the bottom of a tiered platform at the rear of the room. Standing atop the platform was the author of the calamity gripping the world…

The Red Skull.

He was gazing out through the broad expanse of windows lining the wall, looking at the churning ocean below. In the dim lighting, his skull took on a deep burgundy, the shade of fallen rose petals from a funeral cortege. Only the barest whisper of the gale force winds outside penetrated the walls. Cap waited. After a time the Skull turned, directing his deathless gaze at him.

"Steven. Welcome to my home." The Skull motioned to the window. "The storm comes, my brother. Even the heavens give obeisance to our conflict."

"It's a storm," Cap answered, walking up the platform until he was standing before the Skull. "They happen all the time. We've fought when the sun was shining, and I don't recall you finding any great portent then. And you're no brother of mine."

The Skull laughed. "So, you still deny the bonds that unite us? No matter. I know the truth, even if you do not. Yet I cannot accept your thinking this is merely another chapter in our long running battle."

"No, you're right on that score, Schmidt. This is the final chapter."

"It pleases me you know the truth."

Again, the Skull focused the black sockets of his vanished eyes on Cap, bearing down with a force that could drive weak men to their knees, and shatter the nerves of even strong men. Cap held the gaze unblinking. He took a step closer, and the Skull lifted his hand.

"Your women will join us soon. Surely you would not spoil that reunion?"

"It's me you want, Schmidt. Let them go, and we can have the fight you're so clearly anxious for."

The Skull laughed, the sound mirthless. "You think highly of yourself. I am about to become master of the world, yet I would risk it all, just to battle you?"

Cap smiled, fiercely. "That's exactly what I think…brother."

The Skull came closer, and now they stood inches apart.

"And you are correct. I will break you, Rogers. I will see you humbled, lying at my feet and begging for mercy…but only when I deem the time right. Until then, we need not be uncivilized."

The Skull took a small device from his pocket, and pressed it with his gloved thumb. Across the room, the doors opened. Cap raced down the platform as Jacqueline and Emily Falsworth stepped into the room, the doors closing behind them. Emily started out to meet him, but stopped when Jackie faltered. Cap ran to them, wrapping his arms around the women.

"Are you alright? Have they hurt you?"

"We're well," Jackie said, her voice small and wavering. "As well as can be expected, considering."

"You don't look well," Cap said, peering at her.

"I'm fine," she insisted, standing straighter. "There are more important things at hand than my health."

Cap kissed her cheek, and then looked at Emily, who hadn't spoken; a look of fear and revulsion filled her eyes, as she stared across the room.

"Be strong," he whispered.

She tore her eyes away from the visage of the Skull, and looked at him. There was fear in her eyes, Cap saw, but also courage, hot and resolute. Emily tugged the hem of her blouse, pulling the collar down to reveal a silver chain holding a lustrous golden gem, which shimmered, coming in and out of view as if it were not entirely part of this world. Emily straightened her collar, hiding the gem away once again. Cap turned to Jackie, a question burning in his eyes. She nodded, and started to whisper something, but the Skull called out, interrupting as he descended the platform, his voice loud with power, and menace.

"How good of you to accept my invitation, Lady Falsworth. My doctor tells me your heart is weak. I trust the medication we've provided has alleviated your pain?"

"Am I supposed to thank you for that? I shall be well once my granddaughter and I are safely home."

The Skull laughed. "That may be awhile."

He walked up to Emily, and took her hand, bringing it to his mouth. Emily shuddered as invisible lips pressed to her hand, delivering a kiss of piercing coldness. The Skull pulled back, scrutinizing her face.

"What a lovely creature you are, so sehr wie deine Großmutter," he intoned, almost to himself. "Yes, you have her strength and audacity, but there is more, something…familiar. I sense a veil over you, child."

Panic flared in Cap's heart. In desperation, he grabbed the Skull's shoulder. "Stop this game, Schmidt!"

The Skull wheeled, clutching Emily about her neck with a hand that could shatter concrete. "I will decide when the game is over! Your paltry concern for this child is misplaced. I could have killed her hours ago—I could have killed you all, had I wished it!"

Cap raised his hands, a show of surrender that mollified The Skull. Pleased, Schmidt released Emily, who stepped back to Jackie, out of danger for the moment. Cap hid his relief as best he could, and glared at the Skull.

"Then what do you want?"

"Fellowship," the Skull answered, his rigid face shifting into something like a smile. "You and Lady Falsworth are my only true contemporaries. I am about to embark on a new career…emperor of the Earth. Who better to share my good fortune, than my oldest adversaries? I desire to break bread with you. A last supper, let us call it."

"Who do you picture yourself as? Jesus, Judas, or Pontius Pilate?"

The Skull laughed. "None of them, brother. My image does not appear on the paintings of the old masters…but make no mistake, for I am there. I am Wotan, the old god, set to renew his claim on creation. The day of the usurper is come."

As if on cue, the side doors opened. A train of servants entered the room, bearing platters of food and drink. The Skull swept his arm to the table.

"You will find I am a generous lord. Come, let us dine and talk of the future!"

The Quinjet

Jameson piloted the ship through the heart of the storm. Even with the advanced avionics and computer-assisted stabilizers, it was a struggle to keep the ship stable. He checked the instrument panel, seeing the headwinds were reaching hurricane force. A message flashed on the communication screen. Craning his neck towards the passenger compartment, he shouted out.

"Sharon, you've got a call—it's a direct line, Fury."

She got up and made her way to the cabin, the others listening in as she picked up the headset. The conversation was brief, with Sharon saying only 'yes' twice before hanging up. She swiveled her seat, and looked back to the others.

"SHIELD is mounting an attack on the Hydra base."

Hawkeye fumed. "So much for the advantage of surprise."

"We still have a window." Sharon said. "The Helicarrier won't be in position for an hour, maybe longer, with the storm. That gives us forty minutes to get to Cap."

"That's cutting it close," Union Jack said. "And don't forget Lady Falsworth and her granddaughter."

"I haven't forgotten. Okay, everyone, link communicators to the secure channel, and make sure the layout is on-screen. I'll assign strike-points before we attack. If we get separated, rally on my com-signal. Any questions?"

Falcon looked at her. The grim resolve on his face said all that needed saying. He spoke anyway.

"We're ready Sharon."

She felt a deep pang of emotion. She and Steve had spent many happy hours with Sam and his wife, good times, away from the pressures and responsibilities of the Avengers, and of SHIELD. Sharon didn't have many close friends, her life didn't permit such luxuries, but Sam was one of them. Of all the members of this team, Sam was the one who truly knew her…and knew the love she had for Steve Rogers. Taking a deep breath, she called on all her training, all her discipline. She needed to be Agent 13 now, not Sharon Carter. The world was at stake, and the life of the man she loved. She would not fail him now.

The whine of the engines lowered in pitch as Jameson throttled down, dropping the craft below Mach 1. The supersonic boom was lost in the raging storm outside. When the speed dropped below two-hundred miles per hour, Sharon stood, and walked to the hatch.

"Namor, get ready. Hold tight everyone…it's about to get windy in here."

Namor made his way over. Sharon opened the door, and wind tore through the hold, whipping everyone aboard like a lash. Only Namor seemed unfazed; indeed, he was invigorated, tasting the salty spray with a hearty smile. Standing on the threshold and looking out to the ocean, his eyes suddenly went wide. He turned to the others.

"Hold fast—we are under attack!"

Warning alarms sounded from the cockpit, and Jameson shouted out.

"A dozen Hydra fighters bearing down, due south! Get out of here, Namor, I have to raise shields! I'm taking evasive action!"

The engines powered up as the Quinjet banked hard right. Namor leaped from the hatch, the doors closing behind him just as the first missiles hit, rocking the ship.

"Sharon," Jameson shouted, "you're with me! Someone take the rear guns!"

"I'm on it!" Hawkeye shouted, dashing to the rear compartment.

"I guess we're just along for the ride on this one," Union Jack said to Hank Pym and Falcon. Pym took a controller from his pocket.

"I've got a trick up my sleeve, remember?" He jabbed at the controller, entering a command code. Even over the roar of the storm, and the attacking Hydra jets, a sound emanated from deep in the cargo hold. "I've primed the particle-wave generator—we're disappearing in forty seconds!"

Sharon engaged the computer targeting system, firing the energy cannon at the lead plane in the Hydra formation. Her first three shots missed, but the fourth hit its mark, blasting the plane from the sky. Another wave of missiles hit, jolting the Quinjet violently. She glanced at the control screen, seeing shields were at thirty percent; two more hits of this magnitude, and the shields would fail. A score of Hydra attack planes bore down on them. In her long career as a SHIELD agent, Sharon had beaten the odds hundreds of times, but she needed a miracle now.

Hawkeye was blasting the enemy, but the storm was impeding the computer system.

"Screw it," he shouted. "I'm better than any damned computer anyway!"

He fired again, hitting one, then another jet. He missed the third, but picked it off on his next try. How he managed to be so deadly accurate, given the storm, Jameson's evasive action, and the speed of the attack craft, Sharon couldn't understand, but she was grateful.

Outside the Quinjet, the Hydra jets came riding the crest of the hurricane, sending a flight of missiles on a course of death.