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Chapter 41
The Dinner Party at the End of the World
The Quinjet
Jameson cursed as machine gun fire raked the Quinjet's shields. The Hydra pilots were good, staying off their energy weapons, which the shields could more easily handle, and sticking to impact weapons. He scanned the control screen, seeing the shields were down to fifteen percent. A missile lock warning flashed. He pressed the intercom button on his headset.
"Strap in—this is going to get rough!"
The maneuver he was attempting would be dangerous even in his F-22 Raptor, but the Quinn had eight times the mass of a Raptor, and radically different flight dynamics…and he was flying in a hurricane. There were no other options. Disabling the safety precautions, he pulled the stick back, bringing the jet into a steep climb, and then dropped it, cranking to the right. The aileron wing flaps flared upwards 45 degrees, and the ship began to barrel roll. The control screen showed the Hydra missiles were seconds from impact. Pegging the accelerators to maximum, he hit the control marked 'Counter Measures'. A set of flares exploded out of the rear of the Quinjet, causing several missiles to explode prematurely. Three got through, but passed harmlessly by as the ship continued to corkscrew. Adjusting the elevators and easing back on the thrusters, Jameson brought the ship back to position, and then cranked the stick hard left, while simultaneously dropping the thrusters to zero. As the engines stalled, everyone aboard blacked out from the radical shift in G-force. The pursuing Hydra fighters blazed past them, and the Quinjet began to fall.
Jameson recovered consciousness and shook off the daze, restarting the engines. With a roar, the turbo jets blazed to life. He hit the vertical controller, halting the ship a dozen feet above the churning Atlantic. Struggling to keep the jet aloft in the hurricane winds, he called into the microphone.
"Hawkeye, wake up! Five bogies at twelve o'clock, they're sitting ducks—blast them!"
Still only half-conscious, Hawkeye responded, firing by instinct. Above them, the Hydra fighters went up in an enormous ball of fire.
"Got 'em!" Hawkeye shouted. "Damn, I'm good!"
"Six more coming in from behind, see if…too late! Brace for impact!"
The explosion lit the interior of the Quinjet in a blinding flash. The shields took the brunt of the impact, but the ship rocked wildly as it strained to gain speed. A computerized voice came over the intercom.
Warning – shields down…shields down…shields—
Sharon hit the control panel, shutting the message off. The ship was flying at good speed again, but the remaining Hydra fighters were circling around. She tried the energy cannon, but nothing happened. She frantically scanned the control panel.
"Damn it, my weapons are out!"
"Mine too," Hawkeye shouted.
The fighters were coming in on their nose. Jameson tried to climb out of their path, knowing there wasn't time. The Hydra pilots wouldn't need to be good to nail them now, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel.
"Doc," Jameson shouted, "how long until your doo-dad kicks in?"
"Fifteen seconds!"
The control screen flashed, warning of missile lock. Outside, just visible in the tempest, flares of light blazed towards them. Jameson turned to Sharon.
"We're not going to make it."
Out in the darkness, an enormous geyser of water and foam exploded up from the ocean. Amidst the bright crackles of lightning, they spotted the form of a man, his arms outstretched, making a barrier against the oncoming missiles.
"It's Namor!" Sharon cried. They watched in horror as the missiles impacted on him, illuminating the sky like a sunburst…and then the world seemed to go mad. The explosion was gone, Namor was gone, the Hydra fighters were gone. In their place, the sky was a cascading flow of colors and shapes, like a kaleidoscope.
"It's the particle-wave generator," Pym shouted, seeing their dazed expressions. "We've just shrunk to one-one hundredth of our normal size."
Hawkeye staggered from the gun turret. "Why is everything all…purple and funky? Things even sound weird. Feels like an acid trip."
"It's your senses, trying to catch up. You'll be fine in a minute."
"You mean it's like this every time you shrink?"
"You get used to it. We're traveling in a warp bubble, the physics are different here. It's why we're not feeling turbulence from the hurricane."
"Never mind that," Falcon said. "We have to go back, Namor's in trouble!"
Pym looked at him, sadly. "We can't. The wave-generator is locked in for the next four minutes. I'm afraid Namor's on his own."
"Come on, Doc," Union Jack said. "You have to do something—we can't just abandon him! He sacrificed himself for us!"
The four of them argued back and forth, their emotions spilling out. Sharon came from the cockpit, shouting over the din.
"All right, quiet, everyone! Hank, there's no way to go back for him?"
"I wish there were…but no."
The cabin fell silent. Sharon turned towards the cockpit.
"Get us into that base, as fast as you can, John—Mach 4 if she'll make it. We have more distance to cover at our current size."
Hawkeye stared at her. "That was half a dozen missiles he took, enough to level a skyscraper…and we're leaving him behind?"
"There's nothing we can do. If anyone could survive that blast, it's Namor. He's one of the strongest beings on the planet. He wouldn't want us to abandon Cap and the others."
The argument died. Sharon went back to the cockpit, sitting next to Jameson.
"What's our E.T.A.?" she asked.
"We'll be there in two minutes. I don't understand how, but we're still getting telemetry and sensor readings. I can put us right inside their landing bay."
He turned to Sharon, his voice low. "Do you really think he survived that blast? Those were high-yield warheads."
"I don't know," she admitted. "Namor's fought the Hulk and lived to tell the tale, it's possible…but we can't let it stop us."
John fell silent, and checked his instruments. "Two minutes. You better get with the others."
. . .
Outside, the Hydra fighters circled, scouring the battle site. Aboard the lead jet, the pilot listened to his wingman over the communicator built into his helmet.
"Sensors show no signs of the craft, Major. No visual sighting of wreckage."
"It's midnight, in the middle of a hurricane, of course there's no sighting! Call it in—enemy aircraft destroyed."
"What about that…man, or whatever it was?"
"Dead, like all Hydra's enemies soon will be. Call it in, and return to base."
. . .
As the jets were conducting their search, a figure drifted atop the storm tossed waves, bloody, scorched, and battered. A pod of porpoises rose and began gently nudging the figure, spraying him with water as they whistled and trilled. Slowly, Namor's eyes flickered open.
'Sea Lord,' the largest porpoise said. 'The man-things are gone from the sky, but our brothers say battles are happening across all oceans and land places. Many of our kind suffer. Even Atlantis is in danger.'
Namor's eye's darkened. "The surface world has gone mad again. Take your people to safety. I will do what I can to end this danger."
'Sea Lord, you are hurt. We can tend your wounds.'
Namor glared at the bull. The porpoise bobbed his head, and led his pod away. Looking up, Namor spied the flaring light of the fighter jets high in the night sky, barely visible in the raging storm. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, he dove beneath the water and swam after the jets, faster than a torpedo.
Hydra Base
Crossbones raced down the corridor, holding the smoldering corpse in his arms. Beneath his mask, his features twisted in fury.
"Out of my goddamned way!" he bellowed to a crowd of Hydra personnel ahead of him. They moved, but not quick enough, and he barreled through them. He saw with horror that the impact knocked chunks from the body. He doubled his pace, flying down the corridor until he arrived at the laboratory complex. As he approached the door, a voice came over the speaker.
"Agent Rumlow, this is a secure environment, you cannot bring that—"
Crossbones reared back and smashed the door open. He ran into the complex.
"Doc!" he bellowed. "Doc Lerner!"
A figure approached, wearing a strange uniform, a stylized lab outfit; a yellow jumpsuit, with blue boots and gloves, along with a bizarre head-piece that looked almost like a beekeeper's helmet, with a mesh faceplate that hid the face completely. Crossbones reared back, protecting the dead thing in his arms.
"Come any closer, I'll kill you! I want Doc Lerner!"
"I am Dr. Lerner," the figure said, removing the headpiece, revealing the familiar features of Linus Lerner. Another man in the same outfit walked over to Crossbones
"These helmets link us in a self-contained neural net, allowing for perfect communication," he explained. "They also protect against psionic energy when working with—"
"Never mind that shit," Crossbones interrupted, laying the corpse on a lab table. "It's Viper. Help her, Linus, please."
The two Dr. Lerner's examined the corpse, as three more Lerner's joined them. In perfect unison, they all looked up at Crossbones. Only the first Lerner spoke.
"Agent Rumlow, this…person…is beyond resuscitation. Surely you see that."
"I know! You think I'm nuts? But you can clone her! You've done it hundreds of times," he said, gesturing at the rows of incubation pods on the laboratory floor. "You can do it for her, can't you?"
Three more Lerner's joined the group examining the remains. "It is possible," the first Lerner said, prodding his finger into Viper's charred flesh. "We might be able to extract enough genetic material from the spinal cord to perform the multiplicity procedure."
"Yes!" Crossbones cheered. "I knew you could do it!"
"We might be able to recreate the body, but it won't be the woman you knew. That would require a download of her cerebral cortex. Unfortunately, she never consented to the process. Without her memories and personality, there would only be a mindless husk."
"What about them?" Bones shouted, pointing at the pods. "You don't have Captain America's brain downloaded, but you're about to bring them to life! Why can't you do it for her?"
"They will be programmed by Modok with a specific set of data. In place of minds, they will have biological data banks, making them essentially organic machines, designed for warfare, conditioned to follow orders. Surely you don't want that for her?"
Crossbones slumped against the wall. Lerner put his hand on his shoulder.
"How did this happen?"
"He did it," Crossbones said, pulling his mask off, his face red with sorrow and rage. "The Skull, the soulless bastard. He killed her."
"All the more reason not to attempt multiplicity."
"You know the son of a bitch. He killed her in a fit of rage. Once he cools off, he'll regret it and want her back. Come on, Doc, there's gotta be something you can do."
The other Lerner's walked off, leaving the first to answer. Rumlow recognized his pitying expression. It was burned into his childhood memories when the doctors came out of the surgery to tell him his mother had died.
"I am sorry, agent Rumlow, truly, but there are limits to what science can do."
Rumlow looked at the corpse, gently laying his hand on what had once been Vipers cheek. Slipping his mask back on, he headed to the door, speaking without a backwards look.
"I'll be back for her after my mission. Anyone touches her, I'll kill them."
Crossbones left the laboratory. Lerner slipped his helmet back on and went to join the dozens of other Lerner's, busy working on the incubation pods. None of them noticed a figure step out of the shadows, and move noiselessly towards Vipers corpse. Bearing the markings of the Hand, the ninja scooped the corpse into his arms, and faded back into the shadows.
. . .
Cap led Jackie and Emily across the enormous room, towards the dining table. The Skull stood waiting, dressed elegantly, if somberly; black trousers and tunic, with boots and gloves to match. The only color he wore were patches of gold braid on his shoulders, signifying his rank of Supreme Commander of Hydra, and a golden ring on his right hand, set with a ruby stone. The red of his bones was deep, a hue Cap had never seen before—almost seeming to glow. Beneath his arrogance and posturing, Cap sensed anguish, sadness, if that were even possible…but below it burned a ferocious anger, and a rapacious hunger.
"He's unspeakable," Emily whispered.
Cap nodded. "I'll do all I can to protect you. When I move on him, get Jackie to safety."
"I can help," she said. Beneath her blouse, almost imperceptible, the golden gem gleamed.
Cap gently squeezed her hand. "No. Help me by helping Jackie."
"Listen to him, child," Jackie whispered.
Cap looked at Emily, their eyes meeting, and he realized she knew the truth, that he was her grandfather. His heart warmed for a fleeting moment, and then he saw Schmidt gazing from across the room, probing with his great intellect, and the strange power he possessed to reach into others' thoughts. As they neared the table, Cap summoned his willpower, locking his mind against the invading force. He prayed Jackie and Emily could do the same.
A string quartet entered the room and took their places on a small platform away from the table, where they began warming up. By the quality of their music, and the fearful expressions on their faces, Cap doubted they were Hydra.
"I had them flown in from Vienna," the Skull said, as if reading his thoughts. "Music seemed appropriate for our little farewell party."
Cap looked up as he pulled a chair out for Jackie. "Oh? Are you going somewhere?"
The Skull laughed. "Yes, to the future. Alas, not all will join me." He turned to the players. "Some Mozart, please. Eine Klein Nachtmusik."
As the musicians began to play, the Skull watched Cap pull out the chair for Emily. "Very courtly, Steven," he said, taking his seat at the head of the table. "But please, sit. Time is a scarce commodity, and there is much to discuss."
Cap walked to the other end of the table, passing an empty chair at the Skull's right hand, draped with a black cloth.
"Looks like you're missing a guest," Cap said, taking his seat. "I assumed we'd have to endure Viper's company tonight."
There was a long silence before the Skull answered.
"She will not be joining us. This is another way we are alike, brother. The price of greatness is being denied the hearts desire. A leader is ever alone."
Jackie eyed him with cool, British scorn. "I didn't know you had a heart."
"Then you speak of things you do not understand," the Skull intoned, his mood black. There was silence, save for the music playing softly in the background. After a time, the Skull looked at Cap.
"Yet, you are not truly alone, are you, Steven? I've brought the woman you once loved, and the daughter of her blood, so that you may say farewell to them."
Schmidt lifted his crystal goblet and turned to Emily. "I'm not certain how many secrets they've kept from you, my dear, but the Captain's real name is Steven Rogers. He and your grandmother were…intimately acquainted during the war. Were you aware?"
"It's no secret to me, nor should it be."
"How broad minded you are." The Skull turned back to Cap. "Tell me, brother, is it a boon, or a burden that the woman you loved is still alive, though ancient and decrepit? Would it have been easier had she died long ago, leaving you the memory of her loveliness?"
"I wouldn't expect you to understand, Schmidt, but she's as lovely to me now as she ever was."
"As you say. Still, you turned to other, younger women to fill your lonely nights. Does Lady Falsworth know of your many exploits?"
Jacqueline Falsworth erupted in laughter, putting her hand to her mouth to suppress her gaiety.
"Is this why we're here, for you to spill secrets like a spiteful schoolgirl? What a petty creature you are. I'm glad Steven found love. Your words do me no harm, they only reveal your wretchedness. Even when you were flesh and blood, you knew nothing of the human heart. It's no wonder this Viper rejected your company. What woman would have you, in any guise?"
The Skull smashed the goblet in his fist, the red wine staining the tablecloth. His eyes burned with cold rage as he glared at Jackie.
"Do not speak of things you do not understand! On pain of death!"
Cap bolted up from his chair, but the Skull wheeled on him.
"Keep your place, Rogers! Or my men will cut them down where they sit."
There were small windows set high on each wall, providing sightlines to the floor, perfectly designed snipers nests. Cap sat, glancing at Emily, and she nodded with the barest move of her head. The Skull took his seat, as a fresh glass of wine was poured. Laying a silk napkin on his lap, he forked a bite of pheasant into his vermillion maw, washing it down with a huge draught of wine. He looked at the others.
"You're not eating? I assure you, the food is delicious. My chef is a master from Le Cordon Bleu." He snapped his fingers, summoning a serving attendant. "More wine—and call agent Rumlow. Tell him to bring the Captain's shield. I will not have my victory marred."
Emily stared, aghast.
"You…you can eat? You can drink? What in God's name are you?"
He roared with laughter, his red teeth shining like polished daggers. "Many things. A man, once. A demon, after. A god, in time perhaps…but I won't bore you with talk of myself. Your food grows cold, my dear. Eat, all of you."
The others stared at their plates, uneasily, but Cap picked up his fork and dug in. The Skull nodded.
"Admirable, brother. It is rude to allow the guest to dine alone."
"It's not manners," Cap replied, taking another bite. "I'll need the calories for our fight. I'm going to destroy you, Schmidt. This is your last night on earth."
The Skull laughed, setting his fork down to clap, joyously. "Finally! After all these years, you've dropped the pose of policeman, and embraced your true self. Let the dilettantes play at being 'superheroes'. You are a warrior, Steven, as am I. How it gladdens my heart to hear you admit the truth."
"Don't pretend you're a soldier. You're a murderous thug, like all Nazis."
"You were the heroes, we were the villains, eh? The victors always say as much…but history can be rewritten, given enough blood. Tell me, brother, what did your side do after they won the war? They built amusement parks and shopping malls! They watched game shows, and grew fat and stupid, stumbling blindly along in what you laughingly call 'freedom'! I've seen the mega churches, where they worship the American God—not the crucified one, but the dollar! Humanity was born to struggle, to strive, to conquer! Your people lost their way, but I will set them on the path of purpose and discipline, and lead them to glory! Even now, my forces sweep away all opposition to the future I will build."
Cap set his glass down and stared at the Skull, his eyes like hardened steel.
"What a sham you just painted. You want to know what we did after the war? We tore down the death camps you built, and rebuilt the cities you destroyed…and we worked to give our children a better world than we inherited. We stumbled, sometimes badly, but we never stopped reaching for something better than war and conquest. You're deluded, Schmidt, like all would-be conquerors. The people rejected you in the past, and they'll do it again. And they'll fight to the last for that freedom you sneer at."
"Then let them die," the Red Skull said, setting his glass down. "The masses will accept the inevitable, once enough have been sacrificed. The Avengers have fallen. What hope have your people without their gaudy protectors to save them?"
"My friends have a talent for surviving the impossible—they've faced certain death before and come out on top." Steve put his elbows on the table and leaned in, locking eyes with Schmidt. "I don't think you got them. Tell me I'm wrong."
The Skull gazed with contempt. "All right, I will tell you the truth. Some survived, injured and weary. Others perished. All will fall, in time. Without you to guide them, they are rudderless."
"I'll remember that when they're wiping their boots on your banner."
"Ever the arrogant American, so sure of victory. See for yourself how your friends fare."
The Skull took a controller from his pocket, and pressed a button. Panels opened on the walls behind him, and a large monitor screen extended. The screen displayed half-a-dozen separate images, live news footage showing Hydra troopers launching attacks around the world: Moscow, Wakanda, Tokyo, New York. Cap's eyes widened as he saw his teammates engaged in a pitched battle with what looked to be thousands of Hydra troopers, armed with tanks, jets, and several dozen high tech exo-suits. It was a fully mechanized battalion, and they had the Avengers pinned down. The Skull smiled.
"Professor Richard's group is entangled with the Avengers, their fate is sealed. Wakanda, as you see, is under siege. I've made alliances against Xavier's team, they will soon be gone—the disunity in the mutant world will be their undoing. Perhaps you're wondering about Thor? It seems there has been an uprising in Asgard, requiring his full attention. The same is happening in Atlantis. I've accounted for all contingencies. Do you think me some childish 'supervillian', threatening the world with a death ray, or some such ludicrous McGuffin? I've given up on cosmic cubes and magic genies. I am a warlord, and I will build my empire the way history teaches they ever are built…brick by bloody brick, in total conquest."
The room grew quiet save for the graceful music, making a strange contrast to the scenes of destruction on the monitors. After a time, Cap spoke.
"The people aren't as fat and stupid as you like to think. The armies of the world will stop you, everyday men and women, just like in forty-five."
"Oh no, for this time, they face an army unstoppable. Super Soldiers, you might say," Schmidt said, smiling. "The old world dies tonight…tomorrow, a new age dawns. The age of the Skull."
"That's a good speech, Schmidt," Cap said. "I'm still going to destroy you. Tell your errand boy to hurry with my shield."
The Skull laughed, and finished his wine.
. . .
The Hanger Bay
"The Hydra fighters are returning," Jameson said, as the Quinjet hovered outside of the blast doors, which were just beginning to open. "That looks like a good spot, I'm landing us."
Pym activated the monitor. "We have two minutes until we return to normal size. The interface program is running, so the cameras are giving us a normal view of the area."
Sharon and the others gathered around Hank. The hangar was the size of a football stadium, filled with a fighter planes, bombers, and shuttles.
"Okay, it looks good," Sharon said. "Minimal personnel, maybe twenty-five, mostly flight crew, unarmed. There are four armed sentries on the top deck," she said, pointing them out on the screen. "They're all yours, Sam. Clint, you take out the control center, there on the main deck. Hank, Jack, you're with me. We'll sweep the floor, take out any stragglers."
Sharon turned to Hank, handing him an energy pistol.
"I know lethal force isn't your custom. We can get by with you using stun setting on low level crew members, but against Hydra troopers…"
Hank took the gun, looking at her with grim resolve. "These bastards tried to kill my wife tonight…they killed a lot of good people in the process, including my goddaughter. I'll do what I have to."
John Jameson came into the crew compartment holding an energy rifle, with a pistol strapped to his side. He looked at Sharon, interrupting her before she could speak.
"I'm an Air Force colonel, combat trained. I'm going."
Sharon smiled at him. "Glad to have you along, Colonel."
"Everybody, get ready," Hank Pym said, standing by the hatch. He pressed in the code, and the door opened. "We grow in forty seconds. The effect feels a little strange, but it wears off quickly. Believe me, they'll be freaked, we'll have a decided advantage."
Sharon and the others headed to the hatch, but Hawkeye called out, stopping them.
"Carter, we got trouble," he said, staring at the monitor.
She ran over, joining Hawkeye at the monitor. "Looks like a supervillain convention. That's Norman Osborn, and Otto Octavius," she said. "Half these people are on SHIELD's most wanted list. Christ, that's Tiger Shark—he has class 50 strength."
She turned to the others. "Okay, new plan. Forget the Hydra regulars, concentrate on the big threats—Goblin, Doc Ock, and Tiger Shark. We hit them hard and fast, no holding back. Guns on maximum."
The others nodded at her, Pym giving a thumbs up. He checked his com-unit. "Ten seconds," he said.
Sharon took the point. Gripping her rifle, she looked over her shoulders.
"Okay, Invaders, this is it. For Cap…for Namor…for the world…let's get these bastards!"
The members of the team roared, their pent-up tension bursting forth with fury. They we're still roaring as they popped from the size of a dust mote, back to normal size. The battle for Hydra Base Alpha-One commenced.