GERMAN SUPER BOMBER PLANE
ATLANTIC OCEAN
APRIL 1945
Isabel Maru had often been called a "fanatic," and she wore the epithet with a great deal of pride. For what in this life was more virtuous than total, unyielding dedication to a cause? Frankly, Dr. Maru felt as though the Third Reich could use a little more fanaticism of late. She had watched with horror as the weak-willed abandoned the cause: the traitors, Göring and Himmler, and hundreds more like them. They lacked the fortitude to fight -- and die, if necessary -- for Germany. She would not fail where they had. No, the woman known around the world as Doctor Poison would continue her work until all of Germany's enemies were destroyed or she was.
To that end, Doctor Poison had taken it upon herself to carry out this plan. The time had come to strike at the heart of the Allies, to break their will to fight. She had loaded up the German super bomber with her latest and most devastating formula yet: an airborne neurotoxin that would deliver painful death in minutes. With her current payload, she could decimate Washington, New York, and Philadelphia... for a start. A return trip to London and Paris would all but ensure that the Western Allies would be crippled, buying Germany valuable time to deal with the Soviets encroaching on Berlin.
In fact, the only thing Doctor Poison
hadn't accounted for was her stowaway. He had infiltrated her secret facility in the dead of night and hitched a ride on the super bomber by holding onto one of the plane's landing gears. At that moment, as Dr. Maru retracted the wheels in preparation for her transatlantic flight, the stowaway silently climbed up into the belly of the bomber. He tiptoed carefully through the rows of skull-and-crossbones marked canisters, edging his way towards the cockpit. His approach would have gone unnoticed if Doctor Poison hadn't caught a glimpse of his red, white, and blue costume reflected on the inside of the bomber's windshield.
Spinning in the captain's chair, Doctor Poison drew a Luger from her belt and fired an errant shot at the intruder.
"Captain America," she announced, her voice garbled and distorted behind the unique gas mask she always wore,
"How fitting that you should be here at the end of your empire."Captain America stepped through the open doorway to the cockpit, his shield raised to protect his body. His eyes hardened as he replied,
"Seems to me it's not my empire that's ending but yours. The Red Skull is dead, your Führer cowers in a bunker, and Berlin will soon fall." He took another step forward, moving slowly as to anticipate his opponent's next move.
"It's over, Doctor. You can't win.""Perhaps not," she conceded,
"But you can still lose!" With a sneer, she rattled off three more quick shots from her pistol. All three plinked against the American's shield; the third hit at such an angle that the crushed slug deflected back at Dr. Maru, clipping her in the shoulder. Shouting, she dropped her Luger and fell back against the throttle.
Captain America lunged forward to seize the moment when he was suddenly thrown back. Dr. Maru had landed in such a way as to send the bomber into a sudden, pitched turn. The world went sideways as the Captain lost his grip on his shield and flew into a console. His shield clattered against the floor of the cockpit and slid between the two of them.
Still dazed, Doctor Poison reached back and attempted to right the throttle. The horizon leveled out behind her, and she bent to retrieve her fallen pistol. No sooner did she have it in hand than Captain America, having also recovered, was bearing down on her. She fired again but only managed to punch a hole through the glass of the windshield; the cockpit then filled with the whistle of rushing air.
The Captain was close enough to attempt a proper disarm. Grabbing the body of the gun with his left hand, he delivered a sharp cross to the Doctor's gas mask with his right. In any normal situation, Steve Rogers would be horrified at the thought of hitting a woman, but for
this woman he'd make an exception. Countless others had suffered and died as a result of Dr. Maru's cruelty. But no more. It ended here.
Wrenching the Luger from Maru's grasp, Captain America threw it aside and reared back for a disabling blow. But the Doctor, ever resourceful, yanked hard on the control throttle and sent the bomber climbing skyward. Captain America fell back, slamming through the door to the cockpit as his shield followed him; he had to twist his body to avoid being on the receiving end of it for a change. It bounced off the poison canisters behind him, evidently dislodging a nozzle or two judging by the familiar hiss of escaping gas.
As the dangling American clung to the doorway, Doctor Poison climbed back into the captain's chair and began hitting toggles for the bomber's bay. The hydraulic doors opened, creating a deafening roar and a violent air current that threatened to suck Captain America right out of the plane. She would not allow him to stop her this time. Not again. Not when the Third Reich needed her most. She grabbed the throttle and twisted the plane this way and that, hoping to jar the interloper loose once and for all.
Despite Captain America's best attempts, his fingers just couldn't find enough purchase on the doorway. As his grasp slipped, he felt himself falling... though, thankfully, his fall was broken by his trusty shield, wedged between two poison canisters. Momentarily winded, the Captain clung to the edges of his shield as he willed his body back inside the plane. Spotting one of the hydraulic struts for the bomber bay doors, he gave it a good kick. The mechanism failed, and the doors closed partially, lessening the vacuum inside the bay. Retrieving his shield, Captain America began climbing his way back up towards the cockpit.
The air inside the cockpit was growing thin, and Doctor Poison eventually leveled the plane out. She was way off her intended heading, but she would make up the time when the American was dealt with. As she turned to check on her nemesis, Dr. Maru let out a gasp when she saw him standing behind her, shield raised for an overhead strike. She rolled out of the way, and the shield crashed through the central console, showering her with sparks. The plane lurched forward, and she slammed her head on the underside of the console. Dr. Maru's world went black.
Captain America steadied himself as the super bomber tipped over into a nosedive. The damage to the central console was irreparable, and he knew there was no other way to gain control. Worse, a small fire had started inside the electronics, and they had only moments before the leaking gas in the bay ignited. Grabbing Dr. Maru's unconscious body, the Captain held out his shield as he charged and dove for the half-open bomber bay doors.
* * *
Beneath the afternoon sun, the Amazons gathered on the training field for their midday drills. Clad in leather and leaning on their spears, the warrior women popped to attention at the arrival of their commander, Phillipus. The hardened general stood almost a full head taller than her fellow Themyscirans and bore a jagged scar down the left side of her face: a "memento" from the last Spartan captain foolish enough to challenge the Amazons in the open field, so many lifetimes ago. Themyscira's healers had made frequent offers to remove the scar, and Phillipus had just as repeatedly rebuffed them, cherishing the mark and the respect it commanded. There is no room in a warrior's heart for vanity, she had once said.
Phillipus crossed the face of the formation, her gaze set on the horizon. "Today, you will separate into groups of three," she announced. "Each of you will practice fending off the other two." The commander came to a stop and turned to face her soldiers. Her eyes scanned the formation, seeking any sign of disorder: a missing spear, a messy uniform, a foot out of line. As usual, she found none. The Amazons were nothing if not disciplined. She took a step to continue before something did catch her eye: a vacant space. Narrowing her eyes, Phillipus called out, "Diana?" No response. More forcefully, she repeated, "Diana?" At this, even the trained warriors could not help but look around; a few even dared to whisper amongst themselves. "Who has seen Diana today?" the exasperated general asked loudly.
At that very moment, the Princess of Themyscira rode on the northern coast of the island. Her mother, Queen Hippolyta, would not be pleased to learn that her daughter had skipped out on her drills, but Diana put that out of mind. How often could one be expected to drill, anyway? Already, Diana was one of the fiercest warriors of all her sisters; another day playing at fighting was not likely to change that. Besides, the Amazons had guarded Doom's Doorway -- the rift between this world and the one below -- for centuries now with nary an incursion to show for it. At what point did vigilance sink to the level of paranoia? It seemed to Diana that the talents of the Themyscirans might be better served elsewhere.
Of course, such a suggestion was not likely to go over well with her sisters. Since the time she was a girl, Diana had been told of the evils and corruption of Man's World. "They have forsaken the gods," her mother explained. "There's nothing left in their hearts but anger, lust, and greed." Diana could not believe that, though. If they had truly been corrupted, could they not also be saved? Diana worried she would never know. It was forbidden for an Amazon to leave the island, and those few who did were never allowed to return. To satisfy her curiosity would mean forsaking her birthright, and even the bold princess could not yet bring herself to that.
Thus, in lieu of traveling to the world beyond Themyscira's borders, Diana had her rides. She had already explored every inch of the island ten times over, but the coasts -- with their wind-hewn cliffs and shimmering shores -- never lost their appeal. Here, the princess could be alone with her thoughts. She could look out over the waters and imagine the possibilities of what lay beyond. The endless horizon spoke of adventures yet to be found, stories yet to be told. It spoke of change. And though she did not yet know it: here, on this day, change had come for Themyscira. As Diana stared across the ocean, lost in her own mind, the Fates conspired to answer her questions about Man's World in a most dramatic fashion.
In a sudden burst of light, the sky gave birth to a new star: one altogether more violent and temporary than the sun which hung above. From this light came distant figures, unidentifiable shapes tumbling to the earth. Diana watched, dumbstruck, as the figures twisted and fell. As they splashed down in the ocean surrounding the island, Diana put her heels to her horse and charged down the cliffs towards the coast. More debris rained from above, creating a cascade of splashes. When at last she reached the beach, Diana reared up on her mount and jumped from the saddle. At that moment, something washed ashore. Diana's eyes widened as she realized what it was: a Man. The Princess of Themyscira rushed to his side and lay a tentative hand on his chest.
With a heave, the Man shot awake, startling Diana, and unfastened the leather strap beneath his helmet. As it fell away, he looked to her, the blue of his eyes not unlike her own...* * *
TEAM 7 HEADQUARTERS
THE TRISKELION
LOCAL TIME 0855 (EST)
Diana gazed across the briefing room, taking stock of the man she once knew. One thing was clear: the Steven Rogers sitting there was
not the same fresh-faced boy that had washed up on Themyscira's shores all those many years ago. Besides the crop of hair now adorning his face and chin -- making him look quite Spartan, Diana noted -- there was a weariness in his eyes, a tension in his body. She had to remind herself that while Steven was not like other men, he was still mortal; as the wind carves a canyon, so too had time begun to leave its mark on him. She would do well to remember that the same fate awaited her. The Amazons were immortal... but Diana was no longer an Amazon. She had made her choice, and one day, she would face a reckoning for it.
Hunched over the back of a chair, Sam Wilson asked,
"So, are we just gonna breeze past the fact that these two obviously know each other?" Diana and Steve shared a glance.
"There'll be time for reunions and old war stories later," Director Fury replied, officially curtailing the conversation. He stood at the head of the room with a datapad in his hands.
"Here's where we're at with the Liberators," he announced, changing gears. With a flick of his wrist, he brought up satellite imagery from Qurac on the main viewing screen.
"After taking Al-Doha, they seized this factory just a few klicks north of the capital. The Taliban was using it for weapons manufacturing, and as you can see..." The Director tapped the datapad, and the images updated to show a heat map of the facility. On the left was an image postmarked from a month ago, showing relatively low activity; on the right was an image from just days ago, practically glowing with energy.
"... the Liberators have reopened shop.""What's their game?" chirped Barton from the back of the room.
"They're 'Liberators,' right? Well, seems to me that Qurac is pretty damn liberated right about now. What else do they want?"Fury raised an eyebrow.
"Put simply? Retribution. There's bad blood all over the region, and with the way Qurac's been treated of late... they've got scores to settle.""Including with us," Captain Rogers was quick to point out.
"Which is why we're not gonna let it get to that point," Fury replied. He turned back to the viewing screen and pulled up a larger map of the region.
"You all will be inserted on the south side of the capital. Since relocating to the factory, the Liberators have left Al-Doha lightly guarded. You will make your way north, neutralizing any resistance you encounter en route to the factory. Once inside, the mission is simple: Subdue al-Rahman and seize all weapons in development. Clear?"The group collectively nodded.
"Alright, then let's load up."
nitemare shape,
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Fetzen,
Morden Man
