“Sam? Tony needs to see you ASAP.”

Sam Guthrie folded his pen into the notebook he’d been writing in to keep his place and turned around on the uncomfortable but sturdy stool which was the only thing he had to sit on. Carol Danvers was standing in the doorway of the psychotically small room that had been his home for the past two months. Carol no longer wore the skin tight black Warbird costume or her mask. Ever since The Avengers had been trapped in this insane alternate version of the world they’d once known, Carol had pretty much abandoned her costume. As both Tony Stark and Carol had pointed out, brightly colored costumes would be worse than a tactical disadvantage. It would be suicide. Even Tony had repainted his Iron Man armor with camouflage colors so the gaudy gold and crimson no longer could be seen from miles away.

Sam silently followed Carol as they navigated their way toward what they had taken to calling The Command Center. In the current reality they were now trapped in, this had been the home of The Morlocks, mutants unable to pass for normal due to their severe physical deformities. The extensively complicated network of tunnels, storerooms, living quarters and power plants had been originally constructed during the Cold War. The intent had been that the population of Manhattan would use them as bomb shelters. But gradually and then in increasing numbers, mutants began to use them as a welcome refuge. But there were no Morlocks in the new reality The Red Skull had created. The Morlocks had been among the first to go.

It was Sam who had suggested The Avengers use the Morlock tunnels as a base of operation while they tried to figure out what to do. Part of that ‘what to do’ agenda was to figure out how to get to The Red Skull and undo whatever it was he had done.

The tunnels were packed with refugees, the ‘undesirables’ who were trying to escape the horror that was now The Red Skull’s America. It hadn’t taken long for Carol Danvers to go undercover and make contact with small resistance cells that had sprung up here and there. Her covert intelligence experience was of primary use in contacting those cells and pulling them together into a pretty efficient underground organization in an amazingly short amount of time.

“What does Tony want to see me about?” Sam asked as they navigated around the huddle masses of refugees who sat in groups, small fires providing light and heat as they awaited their turn to be smuggled out of America and into Europe.

“Another Ellis Island run.” Carol smiled at the younger man and despite the tiredness that was as plain on her face as on Sam’s, her smile still was like a sliver of sunshine that made him feel as if he were the only man on Earth she was smiling for. “I think it says a lot how you’ve become Tony’s go to guy on the Ellis Island run.”

Sam shrugged. “I’m just doin’ what I think Cap would be doin’ if he were here. That’s all.”

“Maybe so. But these runs are important for morale as well as saving lives. Tony wouldn’t trust you as point man on them if he wasn’t impressed with how you’ve handled them so far.”

Sam looked around the dank corridor, filled with frightened people and indicated them with a sweep of his hand. “Does this look to you like we’re handlin’ anythin’, Carol? We’re THE AVENGERS fer chrissake an’ we’re cowerin’ in this stinkin’ rat hole like we’re the goddamn bad guys!” Sam had to stop. Not because he wanted to but because anger had constricted his throat so tightly that he could hardly get a good breath in, much less speak.

Carol placed a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. “I know, Sam. I know. Remember the first day we got here? I was the one who wanted to go smashing into The White House, drag The Red Skull out onto the front lawn and break his neck right in front of everybody.”

“Yeah, I ‘member. But Tony and The Vision said we couldn’t do that without knowin’ exactly what The Skull had done. If we kill him we could ‘cause everythin’ to blink outta existence.”

“A possibility that still may happen.” Tony Stark’s vibrant voice came from inside the Command Center. A huge circular room that now contained jury-rigged computers, topographical imaging systems, monitor boards, satellite tracking and communications systems. It wasn’t Avengers Mansion but thanks to Tony Stark it was damn near as close.

Tony was dressed like Carol in an army combat uniform with universal camouflage pattern. Sam still wore his Cannonball costume since the muted earth colors tended not to stand out anyway. And anyway, Sam refused to wear the camouflage clothes. He somehow felt that by giving up his costume he’d be giving up on some symbolic level a fundamental part of himself. And he wasn’t sure he was ready to do that. At least not yet. Not until he had The Red Skull’s neck in his hands.

Tony Stark looked a man who thrived on disaster. Ever since they’d been trapped in this reality, Tony had been working non-stop. First setting up this Command Center which every piece of electronics he could fine and then he’d pulled off a minor miracle by making contact with Colonel Nick Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D.

Like The Avengers, Nick Fury remembered the world the way it was supposed to be. And like The Avengers, Fury had no idea how he had gotten back to America. One minute he had been in Latveria with The Avengers and The Fantastic Four and the next, he’d been on the Helicarrier. The only thing that still worried all of them was that The Fantastic Four and Captain America were all still unaccounted for, even after two months.

Privately, both Sam and Carol thought Tony worked himself so hard to keep thoughts of what might have happened to the others. Reed Richards and Steve Rogers were both trusted, valued friends of many years. Tony waved for Sam and Carol to come on in and close the door.

“Until we find out exactly how The Skull changed reality and what he used to do it with, we can’t kill him. Much as we all would like to.” Tony sat down heavily in a swivel chair behind a horseshoe shaped desk upon which computer terminals and laptops rested, throwing harsh light onto his angular face. He’d lost weight these past two months. They all had. “We can’t take the chance that killing him would make things worse.”

“Or they might snap things back the way they were,” Carol muttered, cracking her knuckles.

“It’s pointless to keep going over this, Carol. We’ve made our decision and we’re going to stand by it.” Tony looked at Sam. “You up for another mission?”

“Whatcha need?”

Tony leaned forward. “Refugee run. We’ve got a hundred we’ve got to get out tonight.”

“Risky, ain’t it?” Sam frowned. “We just made a run three nights ago. We’re pushin’ our luck over the edge.”

“Can’t be helped. We’ve got more refugees pouring in every day. If we don’t step up our efforts and get them out we’re going to be discovered.”

“We should seriously think about moving out of here anyway,” Carol stated.

“We will. As soon as we find a new base. The Vision has been handling that. He went up to Canada to see if he could locate Alpha Flight’s old HQ. He’ll be rendezvousing with The S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier afterwards.” Tony looked directly at Sam. “If you’re not up to this let me know and I’ll do it myself.”

“No.” Sam’s voice was that of a man much older. “I’ll do my job. When do you want us to move out?”

“It’s your mission. You go when you’ve got your refugees ready.”

Sam nodded and left the Command Center without a word. Carol watched him go and when the door was shut she turned to Tony. “You think he’s okay?”

Tony nodded, bent back to his work, tapping away at a keyboard. “Sam’s got a lot of steel in his spine. More than he knows. He’s drawing on that now. He’s not like you or I, Carol. We always knew the world would turn to shit. A world like this…it’s only what we expected would happen sooner or later. But Sam…he’s different.” Tony looked up and smiled slightly. “He still believes that heroes can make a difference and make tomorrow brighter for everybody.”

“And you don’t?”

“Look around you. Does this look like the brighter tomorrow we’ve been fighting for all these years? That so many of our friends and comrades died for? So much struggle, so much pain and suffering and what happens? The Red Skull makes a wish and poof. The world is his.”

“So why don’t you go join him? Might as well be on the winning side, right? Go give him the benefit of that supercharged brain of yours and help him hunt us down. Maybe he’ll give you Texas as a reward.”

“You are cynical, aren’t you? Good thing for you that I’m not.”

“After that speech you just made you’re going to sit there and tell me you’re not cynical?”

“I’m not. I’m realistic. That’s why I’m still alive.”

FOURTH REICH

Part II: …Or Die Trying

By Derrick Ferguson and Dino Pollard

The Morlock tunnels ran through most of Manhattan and even into Brooklyn, The Bronx and some of Queens. But they didn’t run as far as Ellis Island. It would be necessary to take the refugees as far underground as possible then make it overland about a mile to where a barge would be waiting. There, Sam would use his thermo-chemical energy blast to propel the barge across the water to Ellis Island where a sub would take them to Atlantis and safety.

The refugees were silent; the only sound they made was the sound of their feet on the broken cracked pavement. Manhattan was silent and dark. Ever since it had been known that The Avengers had made Manhattan the base of the resistance movement, The Red Skull had ordered all power shut down permanently. The idea being that any power sources used by the resistance would show up on sensitive sensor sweeps and scans. But Tony Stark had never encountered a sensor or scanner he couldn’t fool. So far he’d been able to keep their power sources masked.

The problem was avoiding the hordes of armed troops that maintained continual patrols, crisscrossing the island. And since Manhattan wasn’t all that big to begin with, that meant careful planning and timing. Sam looked up at the broken buildings all around them. Like huge tombstones against the flat black sky that didn’t even have stars. Due to the heavy industrialization of The Red Skull’s massive factories, there was usually a thick layer of dense polluted air covering most of what had once been The United States.

Sam held up a hand. Battery Park was just up ahead. This would be the most dangerous part. The hundred refugees would have to dash across the open space of Battery Park which was considerable to say the least, and then climb aboard the barge. Sam’s triggering of his blast power would light up the area enough for them to draw attention. But Sam had done this before. He had the timing down right. And The Red Skull’s soldiers were nothing if not cautious. They’d waste valuable time searching the area and laying down perimeter sweeps. By the time they’d finished doing that, they’d be on Ellis Island.

If there had been more time, Sam would simply have had the refugees row the barge and not use his power. But they’d gotten a late start due to some of the refugees having minor ailments that needed to be looked after before they left. It would be light in a couple of hours.

Sam motioned for the refugees to move out. They did so, spreading out in the manner Sam had instructed them in. It looked as if this was going to go off okay. Sam’s spirits lightened a bit. He’d been so on edge for the past couple of days. More so that usual. Maybe it was because of his worrying about Captain America. Or worrying about his family and what had become of them in this horrifying new world. Sam wasn’t all that sure he wanted to know what had happened to them. Or maybe it was just the constant strain of surviving from day-to-day. Maybe he was just growing up at last.

Of the refugee women screamed. Sam choked back a curse and whirled around. The refugees had broken ranks and were running in all directions. “The barge, dammit! Make for the barge!” Some of the refugees had stopped, the ones armed with the few precious automatic weapons that could be spared and they were firing upwards. Sam looked up and muttered; “oh, shit.”

The dozen green armored forms that looked like human locusts were diving on the refugees, their translucent emerald wings vibrating so fast they were just a blur, talons outstretched, their bizarre cries filling the ears of the refugees with terror.

“Skrik! Skriiiiiik!Ka-lik skrik!”

They were the Pterorists and they were highly efficient killing machines.

The refugees with guns were enthusiastically pouring bullets at the descending figures but the bullets simply smacked against their segmented exo-skeletons with no effect at all. They would need weapons that packed more of wallop than what they carried. “Get clear!” Sam ordered. “Get the others to the barge!” He lowered his goggles over his eyes and said in a voice cold as murder: “Leave ‘em to me.”

Cannonball triggered his power and his lower legs seemed to disappear, to be replaced by a jet of yellow-red energy that propelled him up into the air, right at the descending Pterorists. Cannonball was haloed in a force field that protected him as he slammed into the mass of flying figures, sending them careering wildly across the night sky. Save for one that Cannonball had seized by the throat.

“Skrik?”

“Skrik THIS!” Cannonball snarled and turned directly in mid-flight, diving down directly at the ground and slamming the Pterorist deep into the concrete.

“SKRIK!”

Cannonball climbed out of the twenty foot deep smoking crater, flinging what remained of the Pterorist aside and turned his attention to the three who were chasing the refugees. He extended his arms and fired his blast field at the three Pterorists, slamming them out of the sky. But there were more Pterorists and some of them were already making red ruin out of the hapless refugees they had hunted down like rabbits. The disgusting sounds of raw flesh being chewed and bones being broken were almost more than Cannonball could stand.

Something slammed into Cannonball with enough force to send him spinning out of control some hundred yards before he hit a tree. Cannonball fell heavily to the dead brown grass and lay there, trying to get his breath back. He pushed himself to his hands and knees and looked at what had hit him.

He hovered in the air ten feet above Cannonball. Dressed in gleaming steel blue segmented armor with a flowing cape of matching blue. Bright yellow gloves, wide yellow belt and a chest insignia of a black swastika inside of a red circle plainly identified Cannonball’s attacker. Oh, yes, Cannonball knew him all too well.

Master Man folded spectacularly muscled arms across his massive chest. The perfect example of The Aryan Superman, he was supremely powerful and supremely confident. He smiled with a face that was supernaturally handsome. “Stand down, boy and I promise I’ll allow you to serve me. Of course you’ll have to wear a collar and go on all fours the way proper mutant scrum such as you should. But I don’t think you’ll have much of a problem with that after I beat you into submission.”

“We’ll just see who beats who!” Cannonball trigged a blast that sent him zooming upwards at blinding speed. He slammed into Master Man with such force that the sound of air being forced from Master Man’s lungs was loud enough that it sounded to Cannonball as if they had exploded.

The two bodies arced through the black night sky, to impact with thunderous force into an already crumbling seventy-story office building. Thousands of already half broken windows exploded outwards, showering onto the street as Cannonball and Master Man crashed through walls, shattering steel and concrete as if it were balsa wood.

The office building leaned precariously over to one side, the mortar and brick at the base bursting into powder as the building slowly began to collapse in on itself. Explosions erupted from the interior as Cannonball battered Master Man with fists encased in sizzling coronas of energy. Master Man’s head was snapped back again and again as Cannonball relentlessly threw straight punch after punch at his jaw.

The office building seemed to have had enough. With a horrible grinding it completely tumbled over, falling apart as if blown by the breath of an Asgardian Storm Giant.

The sound was like that of Armageddon itself and a massive cloud of dust obscured the debris that fell on Battery Park for a solid two minutes.

The sound of the punch seemed to explode with a BOOM! and Cannonball came flying out of the pile of debris. He hit the ground, rolled over two or three times and lay there, breathing heavily, his face smeared with blood. Cannonball shakily pushed himself to a sitting position as Master Man came stalking out of the cloud of dust, his cape billowing behind him. Master Man finger combed his shining golden hair with a yellow gloved hand. The bruises on his face were already beginning to heal.

“You have courage, boy. I admire that. You continue to battle on even though your cause is lost. The Axis Mundi could use such courage. Perhaps instead of making you a pet you should be properly indoctrinated and your power made to serve The Red Skull-”

Master Man was cut off as a spinning shield came flying out of the darkness to strike him in the back of his neck. It would have instantly broken the neck of any normal man but Master Man was simply annoyed. He whirled around to watch the shield return to the outstretched hand of its owner.

“Captain America?” Master Man snarled. “This cannot be!”

“You only wish it was Rogers!” USAgent roared back as he launched himself in a flying kick that sent the surprised Master Man tumbling to the cracked concrete. He almost immediately got back to his feet. “You got a real fight on your hands now, asshole!”

USAgent landed on his feet, rolled into a tight ball, tumbled, came back up just in time to deliver a sizzling roundhouse to Master Man’s jaw. USAgent spared time to throw over his shoulder at Cannonball; “Go get the refugees, kid and let a man work!”

Cannonball bit back an equally cutting retort. This was no time for hurt egos. USAgent was laying into Master Man with everything he had. If nothing else, USAgent was buying Cannonball the precious time he needed to round up the refugees and protect them from The Pterorists, who were still flying around Battery Park, harassing the refugees. Their automatic weapons were empty and some of the men were valiantly trying to fight off The Pterorists with tree branches and stones.

The night sky was split by half of dozen jagged bolts of pure white lighting that speared downward from a point high up in the sky. Each bolt of lightning stuck a Pterorist, exploding them with such force that they were each literally blasted into a thousand dime sized pieces. Cannonball sighed with relief. If there was any one person he would have prayed to come to his aid, it was the woman who now descended from the sky, elemental energy crackling from her eyes and hands. Dressed simply in black leather pants and jacket, Storm landed beside Cannonball and extended her hand. “Are you well, Sam?”

Cannonball gratefully accepted her help in getting to his feet. “Thanks, ‘Roro. And yeah. I’m fine now that you’re here.”

The sounds of combat drew their attention. Storm tossed back her proud mane of pure white hair and the skies above her rumbled ominously with thunder. Master Man was battering USAgent’s shield with both hands. Strong as the shield was, it couldn’t stand up to that pounding. USAgent was being forced backwards. His snarl of defiance through his smashed, bloody lips was almost frightening.

“I have had about enough of Master Man,” Storm said in chillingly calm voice. Thunder boomed and lightning crackled around her hands. But Cannonball placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I got me a score of my own with Master Man, ‘Roro. Do me a favor and look after the refugees while I settle up. That Nazi bastard’s ass belongs to me.”

Storm acquiesced with a nod. In their other world, the real one they knew she might not have given in. But this Cannonball had been quickly changed by the world they now lived in. He adjusted his goggles and blasted right at Master Man, who turned just in time to get both of Cannonball’s palms slammed against his chest.

In a nanosecond Cannonball extinguished his thrust and channeled his blast power into his hands.

KRAKA-WHOOOOM!

Master Man was thrown backwards as if kicked by a gamma-powered mule. His smoking form was quickly lost to sight as it arced up over the jagged tops of the dark office buildings. There was a long minute of silence. Then-

THOOOOM!

Several office buildings fell over, adding to the cacophony. Shaken to their foundations by Master Man crashing back down to the ground, they collapsed right on top of him. The island of Manhattan was trembling as if an earthquake had suddenly hit. A long-unused gas line was exposed and a spark ignited the liquid. A gigantic jet of orange-gold fire plumed into the sky, illuminating everything around for miles. And over the explosions of the gas lines detonating one by one, causing more building to collapse Cannonball heard a sound that brought a smile to his swollen lips.

Master Man was screaming.

Cannonball went over to where USAgent was lying on his side, looking at the firestorm raging maybe twenty blocks away uptown. He held out his hand and USAgent took it, letting the younger man haul him to his feet. “Wish to hell you’d cut loose like that sooner, junior.”

Cannonball fixed him with a stare that would have made a man with more common sense drop his eyes. But USAgent wasn’t that sort of man and he belligerently stared back at Cannonball who said quietly; “Don’t call me junior, Walker. I mean it.”

Storm joined the two men. “Justice has just arrived. He’s telekinetically rounding up the refugees who weren’t killed by The Pterorists.”

“What are the three of you doing here anyway?” Cannonball demanded. “Tony didn’t tell me he was sending backup.”

“He hadn’t planned to,” USAgent said, looking at the battered ruin that had been his shield. “But we got word that The Red Skull’s been knowing about these refugee runs for some time now. He’s just been toying with us.”

“But why pick this night to sic Master Man on us?” Cannonball took off his goggles; let them hang around his neck. “There’s more to this. I can smell it.”

“In any case, Tony wants us back at the Command Center. We’re going to move our base of operations to The Helicarrier. It’s too dangerous here for us now.” Storm said quietly.

Sam nodded. “Okay. But after I do my job and get these people to safety. Excuse me.” Sam turned and walked toward where the refugees were waving at a submarine that had rising from the black waters. A submarine piloted by Namorita that would take them to true safety far below the ocean surface in fabled Atlantis itself.

And Sam would see to it personally that each and every one of them got on board. Then he had another entry to make in his book. And after that-

-there were answers he intended to get by any means necessary. Or die trying.