“Can’t believe I get my shield all busted up on a simple babysitting job.” The USAgent ruefully muttered. He’d spent the better part of the last forty minutes trying to bang his shield back into some semblance of its normal shape and he finally gave it up with a foul curse and threw the now-useless piece of metal into a corner of the brightly lit conference room. It struck the metal bulkhead with a loud gong and fell to the floor.

Sam Guthrie winced visibly. Not that he gave a damn about USAgent whatsoever. Far as Sam was concerned the man would always be a second-rate Captain America in his eyes and due to the current crisis where they had no idea at all what had happened to The Star-Spangled Avenger it was as if USAgent had relished the opportunity to step up and assert himself even more.

No, Sam was wincing because even though that shield belonged to USAgent it was still a shield with the colors of what had once been the colors of The United States of America. And in that dented, twisted metal Sam saw something of the way America had now been perverted and twisted by The Red Skull who had somehow reshaped reality and now held the once proud USA in his bloody grasp.

“Nobody asked you to baby-sit me, Walker. Mebbe you haven’t noticed but I’m a grown man. I c’n take care of myself, I reckon.”

“Really?” USAgent sneered at the young man across the rectangular conference table, mimicking his distinctive Kentucky accent. “Well, from what I ‘reckoned’ Master Man was wiping his nose with your hillbilly ass when I came along and saved it.”

“That’s enough, Walker.” Storm said softly. But even a soft command from The Windrider carried more weight and authority than shouted commands from a Marine Drill Sergeant. Unless of course the command was being given to
USAgent who on his best day was highly selective about which orders he picked to obey and which to ignore.

“I don’t think it is, Storm. I told Stark that this kid was too soft to put in charge of those refugee missions. And now we learn that The Red Skull knew about them all along and was just toying with us. Why’d he pick now to ambush the refugees when he could have stopped it long ago?”

“That’s what we’ve come here to learn, Walker.” Storm replied.

Here was the S.H.I.E.L.D. Assault Class Helicarrier which had been renamed The Steven Rogers by Nick Fury in honor of his missing friend. For the past two months The Avengers and what was left of S.H.I.E.L.D., which was just about this Helicarrier along with a handful of other superhuman beings had been waging a vicious guerilla war against The Red Skull against the nightmare America had become. Although The Avengers and Nick Fury remembered the world the way it had been, the rest of their superhuman allies did not. To them, America had always been under the boot of The Red Skull.

There were severe inconsistencies in the way The Red Skull had reshaped the world. Vast portions and many countries were untouched while The United States, Europe and Africa were almost unrecognizable to The Avengers. It was Tony Stark’s theory that The Skull had focused his reality warping effects on those parts of the world for which he had the most hatred and wanted to see changed the most. In fact, one of the major changes was that Germany no longer existed. Every single map of this new world no longer showed The Red Skull’s birthplace. Tony hadn’t been surprised. “Germany outgrew The Skull’s madness long ago and embraced the global community. For a diseased mind like The Skull’s, that’s tantamount to treason. No wonder he wiped it out.”

Still, it was highly disturbing that The Red Skull hadn’t simply wiped all of them out as well. Sam didn’t like the thought that The Red Skull was deliberately playing with them, relishing his power. After all, what use was it to conquer America if there was nobody to anguish over what had been lost?

The intercom bleeped for attention and Storm extended a long finger to press the TALK button. Even that simple act spoke of her natural elegance and grace. “Storm here.”

“It’s Tony, Storm. You finished the debriefing?”

“Yes, Anthony. The Tactical Officer On Duty just left.” Nick Fury insisted on complete and methodical debriefings after every mission that was then reviewed by Tactical Division in the hopes that some crucial weakness could be exploited.

“Then come on up to Nick’s War Room. We’ve got some serious plans to make. Bring Sam with you.”

Sam nodded and followed Storm to the door. USAgent was close behind them. Storm turned and her crystal blue eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Anthony did not request yourpresence, Walker.”

“Bite me backwards, babe. If I’m good enough to risk my ass out there then I’m good enough to sit in on your meetings.”

“I will not—” Storm began and paused as Sam gently laid a hand on her forearm.

“Let him come, Storm. I’ll take responsibility.”

“You shoulda took responsibility when your ass was being handed to you by that Nazi bastard! I’m going to that meeting because I EARNED it, kiddo!”

“An’ for once I agree with you, Walker. I ain’t stupid and I ain’t ungrateful. I owe you. So why don’t you do yourself a favor, shut your piehole an’ move it before I change my mind.”

USAgent’s mouth opened to come back with a sharp retort but he saw something in the younger man’s eyes that gave him pause. He huffed, shut his mouth and stalked in the direction of the turbolifts.

Storm looked at Sam Guthrie with admiration. He’d come a long way since she first met him. He had further to go yet but so far, the path he was walking was a good one. She wrapped a slim arm around his shoulders and they followed the lumbering USAgent.

FOURTH REICH

Part III: Councils of War

By Derrick Ferguson and Dino Pollard

“What’s that lunkhead doing here? Nobody invited him to the party.” Carol Danvers snapped, visibly displeased with the presence of USAgent who strode arrogantly into The War Room as though he was President Of The United States. She wasn’t the only one. Also in attendance were Tony Stark, Nick Fury and several other influential members of the resistance.

Warren Worthington III was one of the first The Avengers had contacted. Although he, like many others had no memory of the world the way it had been before The Red Skull’s transmutation of reality he had no problem at all believing what he was told. In this reality, most mutants were dead and those who weren’t had fled to Genosha and the protection of Magneto. But Warren had forged them into a powerful mutant underground. In this reality The Archangel was revered and honored as one of the leaders of mutantkind.

It would appear that in any reality, T’Challa was a king. The Avengers had been overjoyed to find their African teammate alive and ruling over a Wakanda that was not as technologically advanced as the one they remembered but was still a force to be reckoned with. But it was also a Wakanda that served as a refugee camp. Every day more and more people desperate to escape the tyranny of The Red Skull poured into Wakanda. The Black Panther stood leaning on his knuckles on the circular holographic table, his dark eyes smoldering but he said nothing. As sleek and deadly looking as his namesake in his simple black traditional garb of office.

Looking no less displeased at T’Challa’s side was the regal Sub-Mariner. USAgent wasn’t the most popular Avenger. The scowl on Namor’s face rivaled that of Nick Fury’s.

“You got a problem blondie; take it up with the kid whose life I saved.” USAgent grunted, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at Sam, who nodded in confirmation.

“I said it would be okay, Carol. I owed him.”

Fury grunted. “Ya got a good heart, kid. Better than some deserve.” Fury shrugged. “But we ain’t got time for small shit like that. We got some plans to make. Gather round, all.”

Fury’s War Room was most impressive in both size and sophistication. Nearly thirty technicians were scurrying back and forth, collating data, monitoring tachyon hyperwave communication systems that was in touch with resistance cells all over the planet as well as The Red Skull’s transmissions, hoping to catch coded transmissions. Holographic information screens were seemingly everywhere.

The circular holographic table they gathered around was the largest in The War Room. Fury ran a white gloved finger over the surface and a detailed holographic image of fabled Atlantis appeared with a comprehensive list of the native inhabitants, refugee population and other pertinent data. Fury nodded at Namor. “Okay, Subby…you start off.”

Namor visibly bristled at the easy familiarity but he apparently agreed with Fury’s earlier assessment that they should not let petty matters get in the way because he simply folded his magnificently muscled arms across his chest and said in his clipped, precise tone: “I fear that the most recent refugee convoy must be the last. The resources of Atlantis will not be able to sustain any more. I must also take into account my people. There are many who say that it is not for Atlantis to care for surface dwellers.”

“We’re all in the same pot of shit stew, Namor,” Carol said quietly. “If The Red Skull decides he’s bored and wants to make Atlantis go poof it won’t matter much who’s a surface dweller and who’s a native born Atlantean, will it?”

“I thought the purpose of this meeting was to provide everyone here with all of the relevant information,” Namor replied. “The mood of my people is relevant.”

“The only thing I’m concerned about is this, Namor: are the refugees in any danger from your people?” Tony Stark asked.

“Namor and Namor alone rules Atlantis. The refugees have the protection of the true Sub-Mariner. Any of my people who dare to lay a hand on those under my protection suffer the consequences. They know this.” The look in Namor’s eyes bespoke quite clearly of what those consequences would be.

“Your word’s always been good enough for me, Namor. T’Challa?”

The rich baritone of The Black Panther filled the room: “I must plead the same conflict as that of my brother monarch. The resources of Wakanda are stretched thin. I must also call a halt to any more refugees entering my land for the present.”

“Cap wouldn’t turn away people who need help,” Sam said quietly. “There’s got to be something we can do for them.”

“We are, Sam,” Warren replied. “I’ve finally been able to talk Jean and Magneto into opening Genosha up to non-mutant refugees. God knows it wasn’t easy.”

For Sam it was still something of a shock for him to realize that somehow, in this reality Magneto and Jean Grey were married and ruled Genosha together. A Genosha that was constantly protected by a dome of pure magnetic energy maintained by Magneto.

“You all know how Magneto feels about humans but when I told him the story you Avengers told me, well…let’s just say that Magneto hates The Red Skull worse. For now he’ll work with us but he wants it made clear that he’s putting mutants first.” The pair of almost blindingly white wings that gave Warren Worthington the name of Archangel stirred as if suddenly wanting to take flight on their own. “I say for now we take him up on his offer with as little beefing as possible on our part. Quite frankly, people…we’re running out of options.”

“All the more reason for us to go on the defensive and take the fight to The Red Skull! Poseidon’s Bones, how much longer must we skulk and cower?” Namor raged. “The only way we will put this world back the way it should be is to attack The Skull and twist his filthy neck until he complies with our wishes!”

Carol was nodding empathically. “Much as I hate to agree with Namor…this time he’s got the right idea. We’re not going to get anywhere this way. The Skull’s sitting on his well-fed ass in what used to be The White House and he’s laughing himself into a hernia watching us scramble around, fooling ourselves that we’re actually doing some good.”

“So say we go ahead and assault The Skull with everything we’ve got,” Tony said. “We bust into The Oval Office and The Skull snaps his fingers and just like that—” Tony snapped his fingers “—the world ends. You willing to take that risk?”

“I know I ain’t,” Fury growled. “I took an oath to protect America and her people an’ that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” His one good eye went around the table, taking a few seconds to rest on each face as he spoke. “There ain’t a one’a you here who don’t know how I like to do things. If I had my way I’d crash this whole goddamn Helicarrier right down on top of The Skull’s head. But doin’ that won’t bring our world back an’ it might make things worse. Stark’s right. We gotta sit tight until we know exactly how The Skull did this.”

Sam suddenly spoke in a voice as cold and as gray as lunar dust. “Has there been any word about Cap? Do we even know if he’s still alive?”

Carol answered that question: “The few informants we’ve got on the inside have told us that The Red Skull has a wing of The White House… excuse me… The Red House where nobody is allowed except for The Skull. He goes there at least three times a day. It’s their opinion that The Skull is keeping special prisoners there but if you ask me I think he’s got whatever gizmo or gadget he used to change reality in there.”

“The Cosmic Cube,” T’Challa said with certainty.

“And what makes you so sure he’s got a Cosmic Cube?” USAgent snapped.

T’Challa turned his level stare upon him and spoke as slowly and as carefully as if he were enlightening a small child. “I have researched our Red Skull most carefully as well as thoroughly questioning Tony, Carol and Nick about the Red Skull they remember from their reality. Two major things stand out: The Skull’s overwhelming hatred for Captain America and his repeated efforts to gain control of a Cosmic Cube.”

Fury nodded as he spoke; “The Skull got his hands on a Cosmic Cube at least three times that I know of ‘cause Cap told me. But The Skull’s favorite trick with The Cube was always to switch minds. He would put his mind in somebody else’s body. Once he even switched with Cap.”

“It only stands to reason that The Red Skull has finally used a Cosmic Cube to transform reality. I cannot think of any other terrestrial device that could warp reality on a global scale.”

“Where’s a rogue Watcher when you really need one?” Carol grumbled. “Okay, so we find out where Bonehead is keeping The Great Whatsis, we get it from him, click our heels together three times and say ‘there’s no place like home’, right?”

T’Challa smiled almost sadly. “Is it ever that easy, Carol?”

Sam shook his head. Suddenly a wave of hopelessness swept over him and he wanted nothing more than to get out of there. “Are we done here? I’d like to go visit Genis, see if the docs got anythin’ new on his condition.”

“That’s a good idea, Sam,” Tony said, smiling thankfully. “I’m afraid we’ve all been much too busy to check up on him lately. Could you give us an update once you get to the infirmary?”

“Sure thing. I guess you guys got a lot more work to do here, huh?”

“T’Challa and I are going to try and contact The Inhumans again. We’re still hoping we can get Black Bolt to take all our refugees. I can’t think of anyplace safer they’d be than The Moon. And we’ve got a captured Pterorist I want to run some tests on.” Tony reached out a hand and gripped Sam’s shoulder. “None of us have given up on him, Sam. If there’s a more resourceful man than Steve Rogers in any reality, I haven’t met him. And trust me, The Red Skull made the biggest mistake of his misbegotten life when he didn’t kill Steve when he had the chance.”

Sam smiled and said, “Thanks for that, Tony. Sometimes things just seem so hopeless and one of things that keep me goin’ through all this is carryin’ on the way Cap would want.”

“He’s going to be proud of you when we tell him how you’ve stepped up to the plate and become the Avenger he knew you were going to be.”

It was with a lighter step and an even lighter heart that Sam left The War Room. Maybe things were going to turn out all right after all…

…but looking at the inert body of his friend Genis-Vell took some of the bounce out of him. The infirmary was as quiet as a tomb, save for the blooping and bleeping of the diagnostic equipment that surrounded Genis-Vell’s bed. Captain Marvel lay as still and as silent as a corpse and if it wasn’t for the slow, steady rising and falling of his chest, Sam would have sworn he was dead.

Sam was separated from his teammate by thick plexiglass. No one was allowed to go inside Genis-Vell’s room without the proper protocols being observed and protective gear. Sam had opted out. There was no telling if he’d be called into action at anytime. It wouldn’t do to be halfway through the procedure and then get a call from Tony or Carol.

Sam sensed a presence behind him and turned to look into the somber face of The Vision. “Hey, Vizh. Though you were up in Canada.”

“I have but recently returned.” The Vision’s voice, as always was sibilant, vibrant, but hollow and devoid of emotion. “Are you well, Sam?”

“Well as c’n be under th’ circumstances. You have any luck findin’ Alpha Flight’s HQ?”

“Not only could I not find Alpha Flight’s HQ I found no evidence that Alpha Flight or Department H ever existed.”

“Wow…wonder what Alpha Flight did to piss off The Skull so thoroughly.”

“Indeed.” Both Avengers fell silent for several minutes as they both stood side by side looking at their friend. The silence was interrupted by a cultured British voice from behind them.

“He speaks occasionally, you know.” Sam and The Vision turned as Edwin Jarvis, the faithful butler to The Avengers joined them. Sam had to smile at the crisp Army style fatigues Jarvis was wearing. He couldn’t help it. He was so used to seeing Jarvis in his traditional butler’s suit that it was almost funny seeing him wearing anything else. But Jarvis wore the fatigues with as much dignity as his regular garb.

“How have you been, Jarvis?” The Vision asked, placing a hand on the butler’s shoulder. Jarvis smiled at The Android Avenger as he replied:

“Quite well and thank you for your concern, Master Vision.”

“You said Genis speaks sometimes, Jarv?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Yes. Sometimes it’s gibberish but some of the other things he says…” Jarvis suddenly looked troubled and he continued in a voice hushed and filled with dread. “…he sometimes speaks of future events…and those events do not bode well for us, I fear.”

“When Captain Marvel’s molecular bond to Rick Jones was broken it was merely the tip of the iceberg,” The Vision said. “That was enough of a physical and emotional shock but losing his Cosmic Awareness-”

“He didn’t lose his Cosmic Awareness! It was stolen from him by Doom!” Sam snapped angrily.

The Vision seemed to accept the rebuke calmly and continued “In any case, the effects of such multiple traumas in such a short span of time appear to have driven our friend into a near catatonic state. It could be that his psyche is so damaged that he may never recover. As for the fate of Rick Jones-” The Vision shook his head. “I dare not even speculate.”

“But he’s gotta come outta this!” Sam insisted. “Kang knew something was gonna happen! He knew all THIS—” Sam swept out an arm, indicating the horribly warped America that the Helicarrier flew over. “—was gonna happen and he prepared Captain Marvel for it! I know it! If we’re gonna put things back the way they’re supposed to be then we need Captain Marvel! He’s the key to stopping this madness!”

The Vision looked at Sam with those deep set eyes and there was a distinctive tone of regret in a voice usually as emotionless as a tombstone: “If that is so, my friend…if Captain Marvel is indeed the savior we need to save the world…then we are in far, far graver trouble than we know.”