A/N: It's been too long. Much too long. But you know what? I'm revigorated and ready to pump out new material. Please note that certain creative liberties have been taken with history. So without further ado...I give you World War Part II...


"How are his vitals?" a voice said.

"They're stable. Surprisingly." another voice replied.

"It's amazing either one of them survived. I'd like to see what this chap's made of. Wait...what the hell?" the first voice said.

James Howlett rocketed up from the bed he laid in, roaring as he grabbed the man to his right and threw him across the room. The man to his left ran out of the room, screaming and waving his arms as he called for security. James' ears rang and his head pounded. The last thing he remembered was crashing face first into the Atlantic Ocean with the Captain above him. Everything he smelled now was strange and his mind was frenzied He had no clue where the Captain was or who these people were. As far as James was concerned, he had somehow been captured.

James raced around like a wild man, almost unaware of his bare behind showing in the gown he wore. Down the hall, James spotted men dressed in what looked like military uniform running towards him. James snarled as he saw that had rifles, M1 Garands from the look of the, pointed at him. With a animalistic roar, James rushed forward and felt the familiar pain of his claws drawing in his knuckles as he made his final leap.

"James, stand down!" a voice rang in Howlett's ears. James recognized it instantly and before he even landed, withdrew his claws and stopped short of the two soldiers. James turned to the direction that the voice came and saw a familiar red, white and blue figure. It was the Captain. With the Captain in his sights, James relaxed somewhat but he still wanted answers.

"What the hell is this?" he snarled. "Where am I?" he demanded. The Captain's face stayed cool as he walked towards James.

"The Strategic Defense base. My base of operations. I brought you here after hauling you through the Atlantic for four hours until help arrived." The Captain said. James scoffed.

"I guess you're expecting some kind of 'thank you' or some such shit?" he said. The Captain shook his head and shrugged.

"No, not exactly...but I do have a favor to ask of you." Captain America said. James frowned and bore his teeth in a snarl and walked up into the Captain's face.

"What kind of favor, bub?" James said.

"The kind of favor that requires you to listen and follow orders." a booming voice came from down the hall. James turned and saw a tall man with a grizzled salt and pepper mustache dressed in an United States Army general uniform walking towards him and the Captain. Rogers immediately assumed attention while James watched with wary eyes. Whoever this man was, he exuded an air of power and authority and when he got closer, James could see the battle-hardened face he wore. He had certainly been through some shit.

"General Philips, sir!" the Captain said. General Philips nodded and then looked at James.

"At ease, Rogers." Philips said as he looked James up and down, inspecting him. James resisted the urge to growl or spit like he would have any other "commanding" officer that came before this man. Who the hell was he? Philips turned around and James noticed for the first time that Philips was carrying a folder and an envelope. "Rogers told me when he brought you in that you were a man like none he had ever seen before but you don't look like anything special." James growled.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? You don't know about me or anything I've been through. I'm warning you, bub. Watch your fucking tone with me." James snapped. Philips stood flat-footed and scowled.

"You're right, son. I don't know a goddamned thing about you. But you know what? All I see before me is another disrespectful young bastard who thinks the world revolves around him and his problems. This 'favor' that Rogers is asking of you is a delicate mission that requires you to put the needs of others before yourself. Why he'd ask you is beyond me...you don't even qualify." Philips replied with an almost equal acidity in his words. James seethed.

"Just so I know we're on the same level of understanding here now, General." James growled. "I didn't ask or need to be saved. In fact, I would've been happy with drownin' to death but your big red, white and blue boy scout 'saved' me, so I'm here. I don't owe anybody any favors. I just want peace." James said as he began to walk away from the two Americans.

"You'll never find it, James. Not while this war goes on." Rogers said. James turned back towards him and scoffed.

"As long as there's an angry bastard with some power and a gun, there'll be wars, bub." James said. Rogers gulped.

"Then be the angry bastard with a gun that ends it all." he said. James frowned and sighed. He had always thought of himself as a stubborn and bullheaded man, but he always seemed to be easily persuaded by people he had put his trust in. Captain America was no different. Even though he would never admit it to anyone (or himself), Rogers had given him another chance to live. Maybe this was why. Perhaps he could help do something. Maybe after this, he would have some form of peace. James walked forward and looked at the General and then to the Captain. With a groan, he wiped his face.

"Fine, bub. What do I have to do?" James said as he folded his arms. General Philips handed James a folder. James opened it and squinted his eyes at what he saw.

Witold Pilecki. Auschwitz Extraction.


April 27, 1943, Auschwitz Concentration Camp

The malodorous stench of death hung in James' nose as he and the Captain pulled up in the German transport truck into Auschwitz. In order to infiltrate this camp, James and Rogers had assumed the identity of two officers operating under the SS-Totenkopfverbände, known to the English speaking world as the "Death's-Head Unit". Entering into their ranks had been a carefully planned yet precarious situation. But now, after all their struggles, they were here. James didn't know whether to feel triumphant or sickened. As he and the Captain exited their transport vehicle, James nearly froze. Throughout the camp, James could see nothing but gaunt, pale, sickly humans standing in lines, squatting and being counted. James' mouth nearly gaped when he smelled the dead bodies that the other prisoners held up. James stared at the officer counting the prisoners. He couldn't hide the scowl that was on his face. He flexed his knuckles. James felt something tap him and looked over to see Rogers. His eyes were stern yet sympathetic. James knew that the two of them felt the same way. But just as General Philips had told them, they had to focus on the mission at hand.

It was a delicate extraction operation and finding their target, Witold Pilecki, would be difficult. Witold Pilecki was a Polish soldier and a secret agent for the Polish Resistance. According to their intelligence, Pilecki had purposely been captured in order to do reconnaissance for the Poles on this particular camp. How any Allied force, let alone Rogers' specific unit, had discovered his existence in the camp was beyond James. But he knew that the time had come for his extraction and that was what he was here for. As James felt right now, he wanted to get every single prisoner out of this camp now and kill as many of the SS fucks that he could. But, their mission greatly required stealth. Rogers had made that very clear.

After they had received their orders from their "leader", the Lagerführer, James and Rogers went on patrol around the camp as a pair. James desperately tried to keep calm while the Captain kept his cool throughout their entire walk. James frowned. He had been a soldier the last eighty years of his life and had seen so many gruesome images of men dying, their limbs blown off by cannons and gunfire...but he couldn't imagine why he felt so angry at the treatment of these prisoners. Maybe he saw a bit of his old self in them. Sickly, cold...victims. Ever walking in fear that any day they could face death. Like James had felt.

For years, he had run from Dog, constantly looking over his shoulder and sniffing the air to see if he could smell him. He never wanted to be caught unaware, always alert. But he was a victim. He wanted to simply live his life in peace and be left alone, but wherever he had gone, Dog followed him. He was surprised that the bastard hadn't tracked him across the Atlantic.

James felt something hit him and looked down. In front of him stood an emaciated boy with a dirty blue and gray uniform that was too small for him. The boy looked up at him with panicked grey eyes. James looked over him further. On his exposed left arm, James saw the numbers "24005". James narrowed his eyes and looked around. No one seemed to notice that this prisoner had broken away from wherever he had been.

"Wie heißen Sie?" James asked the boy for his name. Frozen, the child slowly spoke.

"Zwei. Vier..." James shook his head and frowned.

"Nein...wie heißen echter Sie?" James said. The young boy looked confused. He had attempted to give his identification number. He paused but answered nevertheless.

"E-Erik..." he replied. James nodded and glanced back at Rogers as he watched for anyone. When the Captain gave the all-clear, James turned back to the young boy.

"Gut, gut." he said softly. He breathed in slowly, trying to remember the words he had learned over the past year. "Ich bin für Häftling Vier-Acht-Fünf-Neun." James said, asking for Pilecki by his prisoner I.D. number. Erik looked even more frightened than before. James could smell the fear scent radiating off of him. He was definitely hiding something.

"Ich weiß nicht..." Erik replied. James frowned. He knew the child was lying to him. He could smell it. The defiant but fearful look in his eyes shocked James. Was this boy really standing up to a SS officer? James couldn't help but smirk. The boy had balls. James grabbed the boy by his shoulder and pushed him, forcefully but still more gently than the other officers would have, behind a shack. Rogers brushed past James in order to talk to the boy. Nodding, the blue-eyed, burly man stood in the corner of the shack. He could hear Rogers speaking soft, fluent German to the boy before switching to a different language that James could only barely make out. He sometimes forgot that Rogers had been doing this particular line of espionage work longer than him. James had never had a mind for stealth.

Rogers tapped James' shoulder and the Captain nodded to him. The two men followed Erik into another shack. Inside, the prisoners were hard at work, sweating and panting from whatever horrible labors the Nazis had put them up to. Over the normal scent of death and sickness, they smelled of soot and gunpowder like they were working a mine. James froze and listened around and heard a loud SS officer yelling out orders and the clanking of hammers and pickaxes. It all seemed to be underneath them. No officers were above supervising the prisoners who worked as hardily as they would if there was an officer here. James realized with a shudder that from the fear that sparked in their eyes, they thought that he and Rogers were one of them.

He opened his mouth and took in a deep breath and coughed. The air tasted foul and even more foreign than before. Everything about this place gave off a weird sort of energy that James could feel itching at his skin. It was breathlessly hot in here. James turned his eyes on the Captain. "What the hell is this place?" he whispered. The Captain shook his head.

"I don't know..." he muttered. Erik tugged at the two of them and pulled them forward, his bony hand wrapping James' knuckles and pulled him forward. The three of them approached a circle of prisoners hammering away and when James and Rogers came within their view, the prisoners stiffened and stopped talking. Running, Erik grabbed one of the men, a bald man with bushy eyebrows, and brought him towards them. The man looked startled as Erik brought him closer and took in a deep breath and went rigid as if he expected to be hit. Rogers spoke, once again in English.

"Witold Pilecki?" he said softly. The man's eyes brightened and a small smile crossed his face.

"You have come, yes?" Witold replied. Rogers nodded.

"Indeed, we have." he said. "My unit understands that your report on Auschwitz has been completed. Me and my partner are here to break you out and take this information to the Allied Forces." Witold nodded and then looked at the people around him and then back towards the Captain.

"I am able to bring przyjaciele?" he asked. Rogers weighed the request steadily but before he could answer, James stepped forward. He had seen enough and even though he didn't know exactly what Pilecki had said, he was determined to free as many people from this hell as he could.

"Yes, bring as many people as you can muster. We're breaking you out of this place." James growled. Rogers shot James a glare and then raised his hands to quell the excitement that started to rouse from James' words. James almost felt betrayed.

"Listen, listen...Witold, this 'break out' has to be as covert as possible." Rogers glanced at James, and the man growled lowly. Rogers continued. "I have a plan of action but only two people can leave with you. You'll have until nightfall to decide who you want. Just make sure you're ready to depart when I come get you. Are we clear?" Witold's expression shifted from excited to crestfallen but his tone maintained his hopefulness. At the end of the day, James knew that Pilecki was a soldier and a damn good one if he had survived this long without getting his cover blown. He understood the implications of this mission far better than James ever could. nodded.

"Tak, towarzyszu. I understand. Dwa, only." Witold said, holding up two fingers. Rogers nodded.

"Then it's agreed. When it's dark, we'll find your sleeping quarters and take you and the two that you've chosen with us and we'll get you out of here and into Allied hands as quickly and safely as we can." Rogers said. James heard SS officers approaching and tapped Rogers. The entrance to the shack opened and Rogers went rigid. "Holen Sie sich zurück an die Arbeit!" he yelled, feigning a strike at the prisoners, immediately, they went back to picking and hammering away at the ground while James and Rogers pretended to supervise. James watched the officers as they entered out of his peripheral and noticed the Lagerführer from earlier in the day. Why was he visiting this supposed mine? Rogers seemed to want to leave as the four SS officers entered but stopped in his tracks. He narrowed his eyes and gasped. James saw what he did too. The Lagerführer had the distinctive skull with several snake heads stretching from it next to his red, white and black swastika. Rogers looked over to James and the Canadian nodded.

After the Lagerführer and his men passed through the cavern, Rogers followed them and James fell in behind him. Rogers was deathly silent as they crept through the deepening tunnel. James sniffed around and the foreign nauseating scent that he had smelled above ground was growing stronger. In fact, he realized that he had smelled the same scent before. His mind when back to being captured by the decoy Red Skull and flying that wretched piece of shit plane over the Atlantic. He had smelled the energy beam that shot them down and it smelled exactly like what he smelled now.

The eerie blue light that he saw as he and the Captain rounded the corner confirmed what he suspected. The Lagerführer nodded his approval as he overlooked the mining and spoke to a SS officer overseeing the prisoners. James looked around, taking in as much he could and thinking. He knew what this meant. The reason for the mine and the collecting all these prisoners in this shack. Whatever was down in this cave was being mined out to the real Red Skull's organization, HYDRA and he was using that to advance his weapons. But what was this bright, blue ore? Where had it come from? Rogers turned to James and nodded, signifying that James wouldn't find out the answer right now. He was sure that Rogers would report to Philips when they got back but right now, they had another mission at hand. As they made their way back out onto the muddy yard, James realized that all they had to do now was wait.

-/-

Later that night...

"Are you ready?" Rogers asked James, who spat and rose from his seat. He had been more than ready. The last few hours of the day had been horrid and it had taken every fiber of James' being to not completely blow the mission. He had witnessed the gassing of three entire shacks full of prisoners. He heard their screams as the gas came and the slowing of their hearts as they finally found peace in death. James was angry. He couldn't help but feel any other way. It made him angrier that Rogers had been calm and unfeeling this entire time.

"Yeah, I'm finished watching innocent people get slaughtered." James growled. Rogers nodded and sighed.

"I am too." he said softly. James shot him a glare.

"Oh really? Cause to me, you looked like the rest of these Nazi bastards just watchin' all this shit happen with a flint face. You're no better than them!" In an instant, Rogers' blue eyes flashed with anger and he grabbed James by his collar and lifted him up off the ground. The Captain glowered at James.

"Don't ever compare me to them, James. Don't make that mistake again." Rogers' gaze then softened. "I care for these lost lives as much or more than you do, but we have a mission and a part to play. The Death's-Head aren't allowed to show softness to their prisoners. If anyone would've saw your emotional reaction to the things they've done, it would've blown the mission." Rogers let James down and exhaled. "What we're doing today will end this godawful war and save lives. It's almost over." Rogers said. James didn't speak for a while. Rogers had a point...but James couldn't help feeling that this kind of horror would continue. Not only between humans of different races, but if there were others like him, between his kind and humankind.

"Let's just get Witold and leave." James said as he grabbed his rifle and sniffed the air. James had made sure to remember the scent of Witold and even with the rest of the terrible odors in this camp, his nose was more than strong enough to make it out. Immediately, James followed his nose forward and Rogers followed. Before long, James found the shack where Witold was. Two guards patrolled the yard and Rogers looked around.

"How do we get past without raising alarm?" he said softly. James already knew how. He unsheathed his claws and without a word, raced across the yard. James was mindful to lower the sound of his steps below his level of hearing until he was near silent. He was methodically moving towards the first guard, blending in well with the darkness and avoiding the floodlights that watched over the grounds. Within seconds, he was near the guard. The man opened mouth to yawn only for James' middle claw to stab through the back of his head and jut out his open mouth. James pulled his claw out with enough force to snap the man's head backwards and the cracking of bone told James that he was dead. James crossed over to the second guard, abandoning the stealth that he used on the first guard. Before the SS officer even knew who or what was running towards him, James' claws burrowed into his neck and chest. The sweet but metallic scent of blood sent James into a brief high, but he caught himself and remembered where he was...and Dog's words that still haunted him.

You'll be like me. A monster with no family and no love.

James shook his head clear and looked over Rogers and waved him over. Without waiting for him, James entered the shack and saw Witold, awake and sitting on the edge of his bed. With him, he had another man and Erik. The three of them stared at James frightfully and James realized that his claws were still drawn with blood dripping from them. He sheathed them and looked over the three prisoners.

"Are you ready?" he said. Witold nodded and he and his companions quickly ran through the open door. James quickly followed them and Rogers was outside waiting for them. He glanced over at James and then looked over the prisoners. While Rogers ran over the plans to the prisoners in Polish, James watched over the yard, constantly sniffing the air and listening for any approaching officers. James looked inside the shack and looked over the rest of the prisoners. Gaunt and sickly, they'd be lucky to last the night let alone make it through this ordeal. He wanted to save them all...but he couldn't. He just ad to hope that the Allies could come through with the plan. If Witold's report truly reported everything that James had witnessed himself, then he couldn't see how they'd refuse to help.

When Rogers was finished giving instructions, he turned to James. His expression was grim. "Good work, James. Now let's free these folks." Rogers said as he and James lead the three prisoners past the first gate. Rogers looked back at James. "Play the part and we'll get out of here." he whispered. James nodded and walked with the Captain to the outer gate where they we stopped by a group of SS officers.

"Wo bringen Sie diese Gefangenen?" the lead officer said, asking where the prisoners were heading. Witold and his companions were rigid but Rogers spoke up immediately.

"Bäckerei Pflicht." he replied, pointing to the camp bakery outside of the fence. The SS officers turned and for a short time said nothing. The silence was unnerving James and the urge was arising to lay waste to these bastards and just escape. But finally, the SS officers nodded and let them pass through. With a sigh of relief, James walked with his group through the gate and after a small walk, they entered the bakery. Inside, a single guard sat inside, tasting a few loaves of bread. When he saw James and Rogers enter with the prisoners he wrinkled his nose in disgust. The Captain ordered the prisoners to work while he and James exchanged a glance. How would they take out the guard?

The guard approached the two of them and started engaging in a conversation with the Captain in German that James didn't pay attention to. James scanned the room looking for an exit. He walked away from the two as they talked and came up to a door. To his surprise, the bakery was elevated, James opened the door and looked around. To his chagrin, two other guards were placed outside. James nodded to the two of them and looked out over the flat grass plain that extended into dense forest. He was so close to completing the mission. All he had to do was get these prisoners out of the bakery...

Shouting erupted inside the bakery and the two guards rushed past James and through the door. James slowly followed behind him and to his disbelief, the guard inside had Rogers at gunpoint and was talking rapidly in German. Rogers had placed himself between the SS guard and the prisoners. The two guards that came from outside had now aimed their guns at Rogers as James crept behind them. The Captain had clearly fucked up somehow, but now wasn't the time to revel. There was only one way it would end.

"Fuck this!" he snarled as he unsheathed his claws and stabbed one guard through his chest and threw him into the guard next to him. The man who had the Captain at gunpoint could only watch as James picked the dead man off of the still living (and pissing from the smell) guard and threw him to the side. Screaming, the guard looked up at James with quivering lips. James felt no sympathy. He ripped through his face with his claws and turned his glare over to the guard with the gun. James paused and heard that the sounds of SS officers talking and running. It was getting closer. They didn't have much time left. James didn't care. He would've welcomed the entire SS to come and try their hand at fighting him but not now. Not with prisoners. He couldn't risk their lives.

The man with the gun began shouting obscenities in German and turned his gun on Rogers' head. James didn't know what to do now. His instinct told him to leap forward and kill the man and rush out but he didn't know how fast the guard would pull the trigger. It seemed like he didn't have a choice but to just wait until...

The guard gasped as the gun ripped from his hand. James thought briefly that the Captain had knocked it away but instead, the weapon floated in the air and turned towards the guard. Rogers moved aside and looked over towards the oven. James looked too and his eyes widened. It was Erik. He was levitating the gun. However he was doing, it seemed to be putting great strain on his body. Without any more hesitation, Erik somehow pulled the trigger and the guard's brains splattered back on the wall and he fell dead. James turned to Erik as the gun fell to the floor and then looked at Witold. The Polish soldier didn't look at all shocked. He must've known the entire time what this boy was capable. James' eyes drifted back to Erik. With sudden jolt, James realized that he wasn't alone. He wasn't the only abnormal human. They didn't have the same power set, but they were the same, somehow. James looked over at Rogers.

"We have to get out of here, now. Guards are coming." James said. Rogers looked around.

"Did you find anyway to escape?" the Captain asked. James nodded and led the group outside of the bakery.

"We could climb down, but it might take too long." James said locking eyes with Rogers. "We'll have to jump." Rogers stepped back.

"Jump? Are you crazy? We're escorting people, valuable packages. We can't risk their lives." Rogers said. James shook his head.

"Fine. You climb down the ladder and I'll hold off the reinforcements." James said.

"No." Rogers said. "You jump down and wait for them to climb down. Fight anyone that tries to capture them. I'll fight off whoever comes this way. Go. That's an order." Rogers said. James smirked.

"Bub, I'm not one of your commandos. You can't order me around." James said. Before Rogers could reply, James raised his hand and waved the prisoners over towards him and the ladder. "Climb down." he told Witold. The Polish man looked up at him.

"What about you?" he asked. James shrugged and climbed onto the railing.

"I'm jumping." he said as he leapt from the railing. He met the ground feet first and he felt his femur and tibia break underneath him. The pain was sharp but James knew that he'd be fully healed within a few moments. The prisoners were climbing down and up above them, here heard the sounds of Rogers fighting the SS guards. It sounded like he was winning. Erik was the first to touch the ground and ran over next to James. Witold and the other prisoner came afterwards and stood next to James as they waited for Rogers to rear his head. The sounds of yelling and fighting persisted. "Whenever you're fucking ready, Cap!" James shouted up into the room. Almost immediately, he saw Rogers leap out of the bakery with a screaming German locked in his arms as the two descended towards the ground. The bakery went up in a fiery explosion above them and James pushed Erik back. The Captain crashed into the ground a few yards in front of them, using the SS officer as a cushion. Rogers recovered quickly and joined James and the prisoners. With a smile, Rogers hurried them along.

"Come on. Let's bring your report to the Allies."


August 5, 1945, Strategic Defense Headquarters, Unknown Location

James sat casually, guzzling down beer after beer. The haze of drunkenness was finally started to set in and he took that as a reward for all of his actions as of late. Since the mission at Auschwitz, James had decided to stay under the command of General Philips as long as he was able to partner with Captain America. For the last two years, the two of them had done tours all over the European and Mediterranean Theaters of this war. Sadly, despite the Captain's earlier promises, their mission at Auschwitz hadn't brought any closure to the war.

Witold's report had been read but its content had been deemed exaggerated and all attempts to receive help to free the remaining prisoners had gone unheard. It wasn't until the Red Army liberated the camp earlier in January that the Captain's promise had finally been fulfilled. Mussolini and Hitler's death followed soon after and with that, the European Theater had been closed. But for the Strategic Defense unit, there were still many questions raised.

Witold's Report had corroborated James and the Captain's claims that the Nazis had been using their Holocaust prisoners to mine some mysterious blue ore in order to power the HYDRA machinery and guns. Witold had also used Erik and his other accomplice to secret away some of the HYDRA Lagerführer's documents and records. While James and the Captain had been away, the HYDRA documents were being decoded.

A chair was pulled out next to James and the familiar scent of the Captain entered his nose. Steve Rogers sat down next to James and asked for a beer. His glass slid down towards him and the Captain took and quick gulp and burped. James snickered.

"Too strong for you, boy scout?" James jeered. The Captain shook his head and coughed.

"No. Just thought it'd taste better." Rogers said. James nodded.

"I'm a Canadian Club man, myself." James said. Rogers laughed.

"The drink of Al Capone." Rogers said. James smirked.

"That's right. Capone did used to smuggle whiskey. Forgot it was Canadian Club. I should've known." James took a big gulp of his beer and sighed. "You know what, Cap." James said. Rogers burped and looked over at James.

"What's that?" he said. James rested his hands on his head.

"Over these few years, I've grown to respect you. We don't see eye to eye all the time. I've never been able to keep friends. But you...damn it, you're like a brother. You red, white and blue motherfucker..." James said, his words slurring as they came out. Rogers looked at James worried for a moment.

"Hey, you alright?" he said. James waved his hands.

"Yeah, yeah...alcohol's...just...finally getting to me...shit." James said. Rogers suppressed a laugh and then rose to his feet. Through his hazed over glaze, James saw General Philips approach the bar counter. James smiled sheepishly. "General! Have a beer!" James said. General Philips remained stoic.

"No sir, I think I'll pass. You look drunk off your ass enough for the both of us. I have news though, if you're sober enough to listen." General Philips said. James shrugged.

"It depends on what this 'news' is." James said, beckoning for another beer.

"It's about that mysterious blue ore that you found...and the Axis nuclear power." James' eyes whipped back over to the General and Rogers' mouth dropped.

"Nuclear...but how have the Axis Powers even gained that?" Rogers said. He then scowled. "HYDRA's behind it." General Philips nodded.

"Whatever was being mined in the Auschwitz site and being sent directly to the Red Skull. He then sent them out to his allies. It's supposed that Hitler didn't even know what was going on. The SS regulars didn't even know. The head of the Auschwitz guard had probably been placed there by Schmidt. Whatever the hell this blue ore was, it has the capacity to replace either plutonium or uranium. It's easier to use and faster." The General said. James felt his drunkenness slowly fade away at this bit of news.

"What the hell are they planning to do with it?" James said. General Philips face fell.

"Bombing major cities around the world." he said. "To complete this, Red Skull is launching attacks from two areas. His base somewhere in the North Atlantic and in Japan. We don't know how far reaching his attack will go, but whatever he's planning, it is up to the Strategic Defense unit to stop it." General Philips looked at Rogers and then back to James. "You two are my finest. I'm trusting in you." Philips looked at the Captain. "Rogers. You've been tracking Johann for years. The North Atlantic is yours." Rogers nodded. Philips glanced over at James. "Howlett, when you sober up, you're going to Japan." James burped and sighed.

"I'll be sober in about ten hours." he said. General Philips nodded.

"Then pack your things, because that's when you leave."


August 6, 1945, Hiroshima, Japan

This is a fucking stupid idea...James thought. For one, James was flying a Boeing P-12 that he flew out of the back of a prototype aircraft carrier made by a crazy genius named Howard Stark. Secondly, James had no idea how to fly a plane and had plummeted lower than he had expected as he made his way towards the launch site for the Blue Energy Bomb. And third, as the screams of Japanese soldiers began to fill his ears and the sight of the base grew closer, James was crashing the plane into the side of the military base that the HYDRA hid in.

James (and the plane) burst through the side of the building in a blazing explosion and leapt from the plane, groaning as fire touched his and burned down to the bone. All James could hear was wild, rapid chatter. His eyes searched the hangar for any glimpse of the HYDRA plane. Frozen with shock, James realized that the plane had just taken off. Frantic, James looked around and found another aircraft. James raced toward the fighter plane and hopped in, banging at the controls, hoping that it would start up.

"Work, you piece of horseshit!" James yelled. Almost by divine intervention or by James' angry words, the plane started and James was moving out of the hangar onto the runway to take off. James groaned as the plane left the ground. Japanese soldiers were firing desperately at the plane and James' horrific flying skills came in handy for once as he lurched in the air avoiding most shots that came towards him. James began to gain altitude and James could just make out the HYDRA plane. James willed the plane forward but at this speed, he didn't know if he could even make it within in range to do anything, let alone stop the plane. James frowned and tried to aim the machine gun attachment at the HYDRA plane and fired.

The gunfire clipped the wing and pieces flew, causing the plane to suddenly spiral. It slowed and James found himself catching up. James ascended until he found himself above the spiraling HYDRA plane. James held his breath and broke the windshield with his claws. With a leap of faith, he fell towards the HYDRA plane. The fall seemed to take an eternity and the wind slapped at James' face and body as he descended.

James landed on the plane face first and scrabbled, claws drawn, to stay on the plane. The pilot quickly spun the plane to try and dislodge James. His claws left long gouges into the plane as he slid down the side. But James was determined not to fail this mission. Lives were at stake here, Pulling himself forward, James made it to the cockpit of the plane and smashed the window. The HYDRA soldier pulled a pistol from his belt and pointed it at James' head. James growled.

"Go ahead. Pull the trigger. But after you do, bub..." James snarled. "Then you're mine!" Whether the soldier understood or not, James didn't know. But he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit James straight in the chest and he gasped as blood spurt from his mouth. But his grip didn't loosen. The hole healed itself almost instantaneously and James glared at him. "You missed, bub. Next time, don't lose your head." he said as he swung his claws through the soldier's neck. The HYDRA soldier's decapitated body fell from the plane and his crown tumbled after him. James spat and sliced his claws through the plane's controls. From the angle that the plane was spiraling, it would hit the water and if the bomb never fell into the ground, it wouldn't detonate. He had done it. James smiled as he leapt from the plane. He had saved-

A deafening explosion rang from a few miles behind James and he turned to see an enormous mushroom cloud. James' eyes widened as he realized that it was where he had just flew from. James' heart fell. He had failed...and thousands of lives had been lost because of it. As frustration and sorrow overcame him, James could hear Dog cackling in his head.

Monster...like me.

What bigger monster than failure?