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Chapter 42
The End of All Things
As war engulfed the world, the dinner party inside the Hydra base went on uninterrupted. Beneath the mock decorum, the Skull continued to raise the tension, like a maestro building to a crescendo. Cap refused to take the bait, and his quiet reserve was chipping away at the Skull's composure. Cap felt the Skull probing, searching for weakness. He held the gaze, unwavering, until the Skull broke away, snapping his fingers to silence the string quartet. With the strains of Mozart fading from the great dining hall, the Skull spoke.
"Are you not curious about the Super Soldiers I mentioned?"
"I thought I'd let you gloat first. I know how much you enjoy it."
"I have reason to gloat," The Skull said, finishing his wine. "Eight decades ago, Erskine created the world's first Super Soldier…you, my brother. Many have tried to recreate his achievement, and failed. I have exceeded him."
The Skull took the controller, activating the video screen behind him. The images of conflicts raging around the world blinked off, replaced by a laboratory, bustling with activity.
"Doctor Lerner," the Skull said. "A status report."
Lerner, garbed in a strange bulky helmet stepped into view.
"Everything is proceeding on schedule, Mr. Schmidt. The troopers will reach full maturity within the hour, after which Modok will begin mental conditioning. They will be combat ready within twenty four hours."
"Excellent. Focus the camera on an incubation pod, Doctor. I want the Captain to see your good work."
The camera zoomed in on the glass panel of one of the steel boxes Cap had seen earlier. The figure of a man came into view, inert, not yet touched with the spark of life. The body floated in a well of clear, viscous liquid. As its face came into focus, Jacqueline Falsworth cried out in shock.
"Steven…it's you."
"It's a trick," Cap said. "I can't be cloned, Fury's people determined it."
"You put your faith in the wrong people," the Skull replied. "This is a perfect duplicate, brother, lacking only your memories and confused sense of morality."
Cap stared mutely at the screen as the Skull went on.
"You were to be the first in a battalion of Super Soldiers, yet you were the only one. Erskine's serum does not work for 95 percent of the population, and the few who are transformed burn out like candles, their bodies unable to cope with perfection. Fate picked you to be the perfect warrior, equipping you with an invincible shield, one never duplicated, yet you call it mere chance?" The Skull barked a short, derisive laugh. "You are no more the product of chance than am I."
"I never said it was all chance," Cap replied, tearing his eyes from the screen. "I have powers and abilities that others don't, but it doesn't give me the right to stand above them."
"Power demands you rise above them! What right have you to hide amongst the common herd, when it is your manifest duty to rule them?" The Skull shook his head. "How you delude yourself. Well, I have liberated you from the responsibility of your uniqueness. Dr. Lerner, alas, was unable to recreate the serum, so, instead, he recreated you. Again, and again…and again."
The camera pulled back, revealing a vast field of identical steel and glass pods.
"A thousand soldiers," the Skull continued. "All with your might, mine to command. As of now, they are mindless blank slates, but I will write my message of conquest upon them, and they will march forth, knowing neither mercy, nor weakness. In six months, their numbers will multiply tenfold, until no force on this world can withstand them. Behold your legacy."
Cap stared at the image, his hands trembling in revulsion and anger. He stood, hearing the quiet movements of the snipers in their observation posts as he faced the Skull.
"You play with life and death like you were God. Whatever you are, Schmidt, you're no God."
"Have I not created life? What other criteria must I meet to satisfy you?"
"Nothing you do could satisfy me. These abominations won't draw breath. I'm going to destroy them...and you along with them."
"Oh, we will battle one last time," the Skull said, sweeping his hand around the room, "I will film it so all the world may see you humbled…but only when I deem the time is come. Sit, brother."
"If you're so anxious to humble me, why wait? I think you're afraid."
"Only a fool does not fear that which can destroy him," the Skull said, glaring. "Yes, I fear you…and so I must destroy you, and prove my mastery. But not now. Sit."
The panels retracted from the observation windows, rifles barrels jutting out. Cap refused to sit. As the standoff held, Crossbones entered the room, with Cap's shield strapped to his arm. Without looking back, the Skull lifted his hand.
"That does not belong to you. Return it to the Captain."
Rumlow stood motionless, seeming to glower, though his mask made it hard to tell. He slipped the shield free and cocked his arm back until his muscles bunched. He hurled the shield like a rocket, missing the Skull by inches, slicing the tops off the flowers on the table's centerpiece. Cap lifted his hand and the shield slammed to a stop. The Skull shot a menacing look at him.
"My marksmen will fire at your first threatening move. Not even you are fast enough to save them both."
Cap looked at Jackie and Emily, sitting vulnerable and exposed. He sat down, leaning the shield against his chair. The Skull stood and turned to Crossbones, his attention off the table. Cap saw Emily tense to move. He shook his head, his gaze saying not yet as he flicked his eyes to the snipers above. Emily nodded, keeping her seat as the Skull spoke.
"Viper forced my hand. You knew of her plot, yet you did not warn me. Why?"
Crossbones stayed silent for several tortuous seconds. "I don't know. Maybe she used her voodoo on me, maybe I just wanted to see how it would play out. Or maybe I loved her. If you're going to kill me, then do it. I won't crawl on my knees."
"I give you full marks for honesty," the Skull said, somehow seeming to dwarf the larger man. He extended his hand. "Swear fealty to me now, and I will spare your life."
Crossbones hesitated, his pride battling his fear. Self-preservation won, and he bent to the offered ring. Beneath the fabric of his mask, his lips touched the ruby-red gem, and a sizzling crackle of power filled the air. Crossbones cried out and fell to the floor, as the Skull looked down.
"It seems you are on your knees after all."
The Skull walked back to his seat and picked up his utensils. "Have that burn treated," he said, digging into his plate. "You have an important mission tomorrow, and a chance to prove your loyalty. And Brock…if you ever again contemplate treachery against me, I will exact retribution beyond comprehension."
"I want the girl," Crossbones said, pulling his mask off and wiping his burned and bloody lips. He locked eyes with Emily Falsworth. "When everything's done, I want her."
"You'll never have me, pig!" Emily shouted. "Never!"
"Such fire," the Skull said, staring at Emily. "Ja…du hast die augen deiner Großmutter," he murmured, unaware he had lapsed into German. "You have her spirit, her British arrogance… but there is something else, something about your eyes…"
A look of amazement penetrated the Skull's unbending face. His knife and fork clattered to the plate, forgotten, as he stood.
"How did I not see it? She is the child of your blood. All this time it was right before me, and I did not see it…"
Cap grabbed his shield and stood. The Skull faced him, his voice bitter and hard.
"Ever the favored son, eh, brother? Fate denied me the woman of my heart, while those you love stand beside you! I sacrificed my flesh for the power I now wield, never to have progeny of my own, while your line continues! I will not allow it!" The words flew from him now, spitting out in a rage close to madness, his claw-like hands clenching into stone hammers.
"I built a mausoleum for you in the artic, in the exact spot where you revived fifteen years ago. You were to be interred in the ice again, never to die yet never to live, but now I will take even that from you, dear brother! Your women will die first, snuffed out as you watch…and as failure burns in your soul, and agony pierces your heart, only then will I slay you!"
An alarm blared, and a new image flashed on the monitor screen. The Skull wheeled, seeing that combat was breaking out in the hanger complex, while a message sounded over the intercom speakers.
'Warning…enemy forces have penetrated the compound…SHIELD Helicarrier on approach vector—fifteen minutes until incursion.'
Cap seemed to feel Bucky's hand on his shoulder. He turned to Emily, cupping his hand to his mouth.
"Now!"
Flames of silver and gold cascaded over Emily Falsworth, quickly subsuming within her body, and a figure from British legend emerged, though in truth it came from a thousand years before the first mortal inhabitants stepped foot on the British Isle: Spitfire was there. She wrapped her arms around her grandmother and whisked her away, faster than the eye could follow, as bullets rained down on the spot where they stood an instant before. A blur of gold flashed through the rear exit, where the musicians had just fled, the door closing behind them.
Cap lifted his boot to the edge of the table, and kicked out, slamming the enormous oaken slab into the Skull, tumbling him to the floor. Cap lifted his shield, deflecting a salvo of bullets raining down, while the Skull flung the table aside as a child would a toy.
"Yes, brother, come! As the last age dies around us, let us embrace a final time!"
Cap raced forward, his human heart coursing blood through his veins, matching the death-chill of his enemy, his muscles surging in counterpoint to his opposite numbers unyielding hardness. Whispering a silent soldier's prayer, he crashed into the granite hardness of the demon before him…and the final battle between Captain America and Red Skull began.
. . .
Hydra Hangar Complex
Norman Osborn pulled his mask over face and jumped onto the glider. "Blast them!" he shouted, blazing into the air. The first of the Hydra strike teams rushed into the hangar, engaging the attackers. Osborn did a quick scan, coming away relieved. There were no heavyweights, just a few Avenger second-stringers, most he didn't recognize. Octavius was lashing out with his mechanical tentacles, hurling heavy machinery as a woman in a SHIELD battle-suit advanced on him, peppering him with gunfire. Octavius retreated, pulling his metal arms in to shield himself. Osborn brought his glider in a tight loop. Diving at the woman, he pulled a grenade from his satchel and took aim…
He saw the figure coming in on his right, too late to avoid the collision—it was the Falcon, hurtling feet first. The impact knocked the grenade from his hand, and Falcon caught it, tossing it at the Hydra strike teams below, the explosion taking out several troopers. Osborne rocketed after Falcon, who was flying in an arcing loop, swerving to avoid the barrage of energy beams.
"You're out of your weight class," Osborn chortled. "I've brought Spider-Man to his knees. You're nothing, sidekick!"
Falcon wheeled in mid-air, his arms raised, a cloud of metal barbs exploding from his gauntlets. Osborn cursed, raising his hands to ward off the missiles. Falcon darted at him, landing a punch as he flew past. Osborn grunted and turned, his glider hovering in space.
"I have superhuman strength, imbecile. Here—have a taste of Oscorp-tech," he said, blasting him with a brilliant spray of energy beams from his fingertips.
Falcon brought his wings up, blocking the beams. He smiled at Osborne.
"Wakanda tech, asshole. What else you got?"
"All I need," he said, grabbing a fistful of pumpkin bombs. "Some Harlem street trash puts on a costume, thinks he can take me down? I'll break you!"
Falcon smiled. "On the ground? Maybe…but nobody beats the Falcon in the air."
A net shot from Falcon's left wing, expanding as it flew at the Goblin, wrapping around him, making him drop his weapons. As the Goblin tore loose from the netting, Falcon blasted forward engaging him in close combat.
. . .
Hawkeye unleashed a flight of arrows, each finding its mark with deadly accuracy. He didn't like killing, but he sure as hell didn't like dying either. The Hydra regulars were down, but there would be more where they came from. He scanned the floor—Sharon was in trouble, Doc Ock was advancing on her, his mechanical arms raised to smash her. Her gun must have jammed, because she tossed it aside, and was drawing the spare from her ankle holster. Hawkeye took aim at Ock, when something caught his eye, coming in on the far edge of his peripheral vision. He spun and dropped, just as the dagger flew past his neck, missing by a fraction of an inch. Scrambling to his feet, he saw a dark figure standing on the wall above him.
"I'm impressed," said the man in the black and white outfit. He took a deck of playing cards from his belt. "Not many people would have seen that coming. You must be Hawkeye. I'm Bullseye. Gonna make you a memory."
"Bullseye, huh? Never heard of you," Hawkeye said, unleashing a barrage of arrows. Bullseye leapt from the wall, twisting in mid-air, avoiding the arrows while simultaneously flinging the cards. Hawkeye rolled aside, avoiding the cards, their razor tipped edges whistling past him. One slashed his left shoulder, cutting a deep furrow through his flesh, while another sliced his bowstring, cutting it with a loud twang. Dropping the bow, Hawkeye stood and faced Bullseye, who was walking forward, a dagger in his hand.
"Gotta say, I'm disappointed. You're supposed to be some kind of legend. Turns out you're just another notch on my belt. You're good, arrow-man…but I'm magic."
The assassin spun, releasing the dagger, and letting loose a clutch of throwing stars from his left hand, the blades flying forward in a whirling blur. Hawkeye pulled an arrow from his quiver, slashing a figure eight pattern, in a burst of nearly superhuman speed. He smiled, holding up the arrow: the dagger and all six of the shuriken throwing stars were stuck in the steel arrow shaft. He tossed it over his shoulder and walked towards Bullseye.
"Gotta say, Dart-board Man, I'm disappointed. I heard you were good. Looks like old uncle Hawkeye's going to have to give you a magic lesson."
. . .
Sharon eyed her target; she didn't have a clear shot. Octavius's mechanical arms were speeding down on her. At the last second, she saw her opening and pulled the trigger, but someone crashed into her, knocking her shot off target—it was Union Jack. They rolled aside, just as the metal arms slammed into the ground, shattering the concrete. Jack threw smoke bombs as they dashed for cover behind a stack of crates. Sharon's eyes narrowed in frustration.
"I had him!" she said, checking her magazine.
"From where I stood, he had you," Jack said, pulling the rifle from his back.
"Damnit, Jack, I don't need rescuing. We have to take Octavius down, he's too dangerous—"
The crates exploded outward, nearly crushing them. As they scrambled to their feet, a pair of metal arms shot out, snatching the weapons from their hands, and the leering face of Otto Octavius looked down on them. Jack pulled his sidearm, but a tentacle lashed out, knocking him to the floor.
"Oh, I am dangerous," Octavius said, grinning. "Little girl SHILED agents should know better than to match themselves against criminal geniuses with arms that can shred steel."
Sharon whipped a dagger from her belt and hurled it at Octopus. One of his arms shot forward, its metal pinchers snagging the blade. He laughed.
"You throw a knife at a titan who will rule the east coast of the United States? That's rich, little girl—"
Blue bolts of electricity shot out of the dagger, traveling up the metal arm in a bright arc. Octavius's hair stood on end and he shook, until his head dropped; he was out.
"That takes care of that ass," Sharon said, reaching for her gun lying on the floor. "Let's—"
A titanium tentacle whipped at her, and Sharon rolled aside at the last second. Octavius was unconscious, but his arms were still lashing out.
"Must be AI," Jack said, dodging another smashing blow by inches. "What the hell do we do?"
"Fire at Octavius," Sharon said, squeezing off several shots at his dangling body. Two of the arms pulled back, forming a shield to protect him. Jack fired, but one of the arms flashed out, slamming against his helmet, and he fell, dazed. Sharon grabbed him, pulling him back and firing shots, until she was out. The arms advanced relentlessly, pinning them into a tight corner. Sharon looked around in desperation. There was no way out.
. . .
Hank Pym and John Jameson raced across the floor as a Hydra strike team entered through the bay door. The strike teams numbered twenty Hydra troopers, armed to the teeth, but Pym and Jameson had the drop on this group, and they drove them back. The element of surprise was lost, and the Hydra troopers rallied to charge them again. Hank saw the control panel and hit the 'close' button, bringing the inch-inch thick blast barriers crashing down. He pointed his gun at the panel and fired, bringing a shower of sparks.
"That won't hold them long," Pym said. "They'll have a manual release to open the doors. Maybe I can get in there, jam the gears."
"There's no time, Doc, our guys are in trouble!"
Pym turned to look. On the main concourse of the hanger complex, the team was in a desperate fight for survival, each member pitted in a life or death struggle against super-powered opponents. The situation became critical as the man called Tiger Shark leapt down from the top level, a drop of nearly a hundred feet. He crashed to the floor with a thunderous boom, and then advanced on Sharon and Jack. John rushed forward, unloading his energy rifle, hitting Tiger Shark in the back with the full magazine, the setting on maximum. Tiger Shark lit up in a bright blue nimbus, the sound like an electrical transformer frying. The magazine exhausted, John dropped the smoking rifle. Tiger Shark turned, snarling with a row of razor-sharp teeth. He walked forward, laughing.
"I'm going to eat you, air-breather…good and slow."
Hank ran forward, pushing Jameson behind him. He reached for the controller on his belt, hesitating for a moment. This could kill him. He looked at the slavering fangs of Tiger Shark. They would definitely kill him.
"Shit…this is going to hurt," Hank said, pressing the button. Tiger Shark's sneering laugh died in his throat. He stared up in amazement, at a sight absent from the world for nearly a decade. Hank Pym was gone…Giant Man was there. Nearly eighty feet in height, he towered above the floor, his head nearly brushing the lighting fixtures hanging from the ceiling. For a moment, he tottered, grabbing his sides, his face contorted in pain and dizziness. Then he straightened, and looked down at the floor, smiling at Tiger Shark.
"Hi, tiny."
He reared back and punted Tiger Shark like a football, the blow rocketing him across the massive hanger. He crashed into the blast doors set against the outside, the reinforced concrete and steel shaking from the impact. Tiger Shark fell in a dazed heap.
"How do you like me now?" Jameson shouted, cupping his hand to his mouth.
Shots flew by, and Jameson turned, seeing the door slowly cranking open. Hydra rifles jutted through the small opening, firing at them. Several beams hit Pym, searing against his foot. Even with his massive size, that many beams carried a jolt, and he cried out in pain. Jameson grabbed a weapon from the floor and fired at the Hydra intruders, shouting at Pym.
"Doc, go! I'll hold them off!"
Pym shook his head, trying to clear his sense, grimacing against the enormous strain of growing to maximum size. "Be careful, John," he said, looking down. "I'll send backup as soon as I can."
Jameson nodded, continuing his desperate fight to hold off the Hydra assault teams. At the far end of the complex, two doors opened, and a flight of Hydra fighter jets blazed out to engage the approaching SHIELD forces. Hank Pym strode forward, his steps like the thudding of enormous bass drums. Across the floor, Tiger Shark snarled and charged to meet him.
SHIELD Helicarrier
The bridge rocked from the incoming fire, but the ship's shielding held. All personnel were working furiously at their battle stations, the entire vessel an integrated, finely calibrated unit. From the sensor station, an Ensign called out to the quarterdeck.
"Sir, Hydra fighters approaching, aft, ten degrees off point zero-nine! Thirty in all, four of them cloaked—I'm tracking them by thermal disruption."
"Engage forward guns, I want those ghosts down before you lose the signal!"
"Sir, that means lowering shields. We'll be vulnerable to artillery fire from the Hydra base."
"One threat at a time," Fury shouted. He turned to his Second in Command. "XO, why aren't our interceptors in the air?"
"It's the storm," Dugan replied. "It's slowing down all Ops."
"The stabilizers are supposed to compensate for that." He turned as another round of explosions shook the bridge. "Quartermain, get up there and kick some ass! Get our birds in the air, before Hydra puts us in the drink!"
"I'm on it," Clay Quartermain shouted, dashing to the turbo lift. Fury turned back to the sensor post.
"Ensign, where's our naval backup? The Nimitz should be en route."
"Negative, sir, she's been redirected to a Hydra battle group in the North Sea—London's taking a beating. All military forces are engaged in homeland defense, or overseas theaters. We're on our own."
Fury looked at the view screen; a swarm of enemy aircraft were closing on them, firing a barrage of missiles, gunfire, and energy beams. Fury turned to his bridge crew.
"Okay, people, this is it. SHIELD's never lost an engagement to Hydra before, and we're damned sure not going to start now. Let's earn our pay!"
A short but hearty cheer erupted on the bridge, and then all hands returned to their stations, working at a furious pace as explosions rocked the ship. Fury turned to his XO.
"Get our ground troops ready to deploy."
"We can't launch shuttles without fighter escorts. Those Hydra fighters will pick our guys apart."
"Quartermain will get our birds in the air. Give the order."
Lieutenant Commander T. Aloysius "Dum-Dum" Dugan entered the command on his control panel. An alarm blared over the intercom:
"All hands…prepare for invasion of Hydra Base!"
Hydra Base
Jameson took cover behind a demolished tow truck, laying down fire as the bay door continued to rise. He took out a dozen Hydra troopers, but more kept filling the void, returning his fire. The door flew up, and a wave of troopers flooded the bay, overwhelming Jameson. Two blasts struck him, and he fell, face down. The Hydra team leader bellowed orders.
"Lieutenant, take a squad and engage the Avengers! Sergeant, put this filth against the wall and execute him."
A boot thudded against Jameson's skull, making him groan in agony. Rough hands hauled him up and slammed him against the wall. Clutching his arms to his chest, Jameson whispered a bitter goodbye to his wife. He opened his eyes, seeing the Hydra team, their guns trained on him.
"So die all who oppose Hydra," the Sergeant said. Jameson smiled.
"You first."
Colonel John Jameson, decorated Air Force pilot and longtime aide to the Avengers, held out his hands, each clutching a thermo-grenade. A blinding flash tore through that section of the hanger, wiping out dozens of Hydra troopers and collapsing the bay door, preventing more from entering.
Across the floor, Sharon Carter saw the flash, and felt the blast wave. Screaming John's name, she fired at the approaching Hydra troopers. The battle was turning against them. Pym's initial attack nearly finished the fight, but something went wrong. Hank fell, screaming in agony as he tried to fend off the attackers, but the Goblin hit him with blast after blast, and Tiger Shark hammered him with shattering blows. As salvos of enemy fire filled the air, Sharon turned to the others.
"Come on! If we fall, we fall together!"
The hangar reverberated with a thunderous noise; not from the lightning outside, but something more furious. The massive, foot-thick blast door trembled, the thunder growing louder. The door shattered from the power smashing against it, and Namor emerged riding the tempest, his eyes flashing vengeance as he landed on the hangar floor.
"Imperious Rex!"
The Hydra troopers retreated in terror from Namor, as Sharon and Jack blasted them with energy beams, and Hawkeye rained down arrows. Namor hurled himself against the forces attacking Giant Man, leaping high to swat the Goblin from the air, destroying his glider. He then grabbed Octopus's metal arms, crushing them as he pulled them from Giant Man's neck. He shouted, trying to rouse his comrade.
"Pym! Can you speak?"
A sudden movement made Namor turn; Tiger Shark was leaping at him, a huge, twisted spike of steel in his hands. Before Namor could move, a flash fell from the sky—Falcon, diving feet first, smashed into Tiger Shark, diverting his attack. Tiger Shark howled in rage and reached for Falcon, when Namor crashed into him, the impact like cars colliding. The sea lords grappled, tearing furrows in the concrete floor. Tiger Shark was immensely strong, but he gave way, inch by inch. Namor wrenched his hand free and clubbed him, driving Tiger Shark down. He lifted him overhead and smashed him over his knee, shattering his spine with a terrible noise. Namor tossed him aside, spitting on him.
"Traitor to Atlantis…death is too good for you."
Namor helped Falcon to his feet, as Pym slowly regained consciousness, Giant Man no more. He was shrinking, fast. When he was nearly normal size, he tried to get up, but fell. Namor took him under his arm, and together with Falcon, walked to Sharon and the others. The first wave of the battle was won, but at a terrible cost.
Hank looked around the shattered space, littered with fallen Hydra troopers. "Where's John?" he asked.
"He's gone," Sharon said, snapping a fresh magazine into her rifle. "John sacrificed himself to buy us time to rally. We can't let it be in vain."
As the group stood, stunned with sorrow, Sharon's communicator flashed. She put the call on speaker.
"Make it quick, Melvin."
"I'm sending you Cap's location. I have partial control of the Hydra system, so I can shut down most of the intervening passageways. They won't be able to hit you full strength."
"Good work. We're on our way."
"Sharon, there's more, something…horrible. There's a genetics lab on the far side—"
"We know about the clones. We'll deal with them later."
"No, you don't understand. They've cloned Cap. Thousands of them. You have sixty minutes before they go active...and you'll be facing an army of Super Soldiers. Modok is there, and I don't know how much longer his human side can hold out. He's dangerous."
"Get this news to SHIELD," Sharon said, cutting the connection. " Namor, you're the only one with the power to brave the storm, and handle this Modok thing."
"It will be done," he said. "Go, find the Captain. I will dispatch these creatures. No evil of the Red Skull must survive this night."
Namor ran to the shattered bay doors and flew out into the raging storm. Sharon turned to the others.
"This started as a mission to save Steve…but it's bigger than that now. The world hinges on what we do. We have to end this madness."
Silently, the others nodded, gripping their weapons. Checking the directions Melvin sent, Sharon led them down the main corridor. Inwardly, she prayed for the man she loved.
. . .
Cap rolled to his right as the Skull's fist smashed down, shattering the concrete floor. Cocking his legs, he jackhammered the Skull, rocketing him back. He leapt up and launched his shield, smashing the Skull against the wall, eliciting screams of pain and rage. Despite Schmidt's near invulnerability, the shield was always effective against him. Cap planned to ram that effectiveness down his throat. He caught the shield as he raced forward, when a thought intruded…
The shield…the ring…use her power against it…
Was this something he read in Sir Richards's book? Something Bucky told him in a dream? He swung at the Skull, but Schmidt dodged, and fired a vicious punch that landed with terrible force. Cap flew backwards, graying out as he slammed into the remnants of the dining table. The table leg splintered, and a chunk of wood pierced his armored trousers, sinking deep into his leg. He fell to the floor, grimacing in pain, while trying to make sense of the words echoing in his thoughts.
"You are distracted," the Skull said, grabbing Cap's ankle. "A fatal mistake."
Lifting Cap like a rag doll, Schmidt hurled him against the stonewall fifty feet away. Cap crashed against it, crying out over the audible crack of bones. The Skull chortled.
"My power has never been greater—more than enough to smash tin plated heroes. My cameras will document the moment I crush the life from your broken body. After the world is conquered, the footage will play in every city and town square, and all opposition will crumble."
Cap stood. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, he pulled the shard from his thigh, and then strapped the shield to his arm.
"Just like a Nazi, planning the victory parade before the battle's won. Keep the cameras rolling, Schmidt, because I'm about to ram those words down your throat, and make you eat them." He lifted his hand, and waved him on. "Bring it."
The Skull charged forward and Cap met him. They stood toe to toe, raining blows upon one another. Schmidt threw a wild punch that missed, leaving him off balance, and Cap swung his shield, catching him square in his face with a thunderous crack. Schmidt fell to the floor, stunned; a huge piece of bone had splintered from his cheek, splitting his face from eye to mouth. Seeing an opportunity to end it, Cap moved in, but Crossbones crashed into him from behind, his knife drawn. Cap cursed himself for his carelessness.
"Ha! Up and under!" Bones shouted, ripping his dagger up Cap's torso, a killing stroke blunted only by his armor. "How's it feel to be a dead man, Cappy?"
Cap backhanded Crossbones with his shield, sending him flying. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the blade from his side and tossed it away. The gash was deep, but with his healing factor working again, he could survive it.
"Tuff motherfucker, aren't you?" Bones said, pulling a second knife as he scrambled to his feet. "That's good, it'll make icing you all the sweeter."
Cap raced forward, using his shield to smash the knife from Rumlow's hand, he unleashed a barrage that drove the big man to his knees, reeling and barely conscious. Snatching Rumlow by the scruff of his neck, Cap hauled him up, glaring with white-hot fury.
"Do you remember what I told you, errand boy? You're a cockroach…and this is where I step on you!"
He smashed Bones, the punch driving him thirty yards head over heel, until he landed in a sprawling heap. Cap clutched his side to staunch the blood, but there was no reprieve; the Skull was rising. Schmidt put a hand to his injury, a look of horror flashing across his face that morphed into a scream of fury that shook the walls.
"You…will suffer…as no man has ever suffered!"
Nearly mad with rage, the Skull attacked with blinding speed, hammering down with enough force to shatter a tank, a blow even Namor could not have withstood. Cap blocked with his shield, his muscles straining against the inhuman force exploding against them. With blood flowing from his wounds, he gritted his teeth and battled on.
. . .
Inside the small chamber, the sounds of the battle were muffled, but still audible. Emily looked down at her grandmother, lying on the floor. The musicians had made pillows from their jackets, to prop Jackie's head up. She was pale, almost white. Lines of pain creased her face, and her breathing grew shallow. Emily knelt, putting her hand to her grandmother's cheek.
"Gran," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "Hold on, please. I'll get you help, just hold on."
The Grand Dame's eyes fluttered open, bleary and distant. "It's…too late for me, child," she said, her voice a whisper.
"Gran…I don't know what to do."
From inside the dining hall, a scream of inhuman rage blasted their ears. Lady Jacqueline roused, clutching Emily's wrist.
"You are a Falsworth, and we do not run from battle! The power of the Spitfire now courses through your heart, imbuing you with great power and magic! Use it, child…aid him against that monster."
Jackie's eyes crimped shut. Emily laid her back on the pillows and stood, wiping the tears from her eyes. She turned to the frightened group of musicians.
"Stay with her"
The men and women nodded. Emily walked to the door, finding it locked. She whispered words of power, and a flame flashed over her, changing her clothing to an otherworldly raiment, fabrics like silk, only deeper, shimmering with hues of silver and crimson, tinged with violet, underlain with a deep golden sheen. Flame seemed to flicker around her, and her hair sparkled with starlight. As the others watched in hushed awe, she put her hand to the door.
"E'alomm Tae…be with me now."
Her hand began to glow, and the steel exploded. Spitfire stepped into the dining hall. The snipers had fled their posts, she saw with relief... and then she looked across the floor and saw the Skull, perceiving him with eyes that knew the truth: he was not a man, but the shade of a man, fed by power bourn from another world. He was once a man, possessed by an ancient demon, who in turn overthrew the demon and took his power by the strength of his own hideous will. As a man, he was evil, but now he was a Prince of Evil, an avatar of wrath and destruction, who would drown the world in blood to slake his thirst. Opposite him stood her grandfather, Steven Rogers. A mortal man set against a monster. Emily felt fear threatening to overshadow her spirit, when a voice whispered in her mind.
He is good, the bravest of men…but he does not know of magic. Lend your magic to his might. The shield is the chalice. Pour your fire into it, sister, so he may destroy this thing that threatens our Mother and all Her children.
Spitfire walked forth. Behind her, Crossbones had roused, and was training the crosshairs of his rifle sight on her, his finger on the trigger. Outside, the storm rose to its apotheosis, matching the conflict raging around the world, and the battle taking place in the Hydra base. Dawn was approaching... and at its coming, the world would change forever.