He was only five years old at the time. He remembered playing in the village as his mother and older brother watched from nearby. That was around the time that the winds started to beat down from above.

He looked to the skies and saw what appeared to his young eyes as monstrous beasts made of metal descending from the clouds. Once they landed, men with mostly black faces emerged, but a few were white, dressed in identical uniforms. And in their hands they carried massive rifles.

One of them, who appeared to be in command, shouted orders to the others in some strange language the boy had never heard before. The men raised their guns and rushed into the village, some of them taking positions at exit routes. Others surrounded homes and after a few hand signals, burst inside.

Young men were dragged out to the center of the village and thrown to the ground. Some of them shouted, “NO VC! NO VC!” They were silenced by fierce blows from the butt of the soldiers’ rifles.

The boy watched as some of the soldiers looked to one of them. He was older, with a mustache and a cigar clamped between his teeth. One of the few white men in the unit. As he spoke, smoke billowed from his mouth. It reminded the boy of a dragon.

“Gook’s a gook,” said the officer. “These bastards wanna play hardball an’ hide out in villages, well we’re gonna show ’em that Uncle Sam plays harder than anyone. Wipe this place off the map, boys.”

The soldiers acted with ruthless brutality, opening fire on the villagers. The young men went first, but as the old and the women cried out in protest or in fear, they too were gunned down. The boy watched as some of the young women were dragged into huts by soldiers and their screams echoed.

Grenades were tossed into huts which moments later erupted into flames. The boy watched as everything he had known in his short life was burned away. One of the soldiers stood nearby, simply standing and watching the carnage around them. He was larger than the others and it wasn’t long before the dragon man came up to him and started shouting.

“Smith, this ain’t no goddamn spectator sport!”

“But sir…we don’t know if these people are VC or no—”

“Listen up, you dumb piece of shit—when I give you an order, you better damn-well follow it! Now either you’re with us or you’re with them!”

The younger soldier raised his gun and the boy watched with horror as it was pointed at his own brother. His brother just whispered the same thing over and over again: “No VC. No VC. No VC.”

“Sorry, but I don’t know that,” said the soldier and he pulled the trigger. The boy saw his brother’s head rock back before his body fell to the ground and blood seeped from the wound. His mother rushed against the soldier screaming. The soldier turned suddenly and gunfire erupted once more. The boy then saw his mother’s body fall beside his brother’s. And that was the last thing the boy remembered before a grenade exploded near him and sent him flying into the jungle.

WAR CRIMES

Part I

By Scott Redmond and Dino Pollard

Princeton Walk
Today

Located in the basement of Josiah X’s Princeton Walk home was a rather large training room. When Sharon Carter entered, she found Josiah dressed only in exercise shorts performing vertical push-ups on a vaulting horse. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

“I thought the doctors told you to take it easy.”

“This is me taking it easy,” said Josiah. “Do you see any weights strapped to my legs?”

“I somehow doubt the doctors would agree with you.”

“Super soldier physiology, Carter. Means I heal faster and I can push myself harder.”

Josiah lowered himself once more but this time sprung off the horse, flipped and landed on the mat. He walked over to a small table and wiped the sweat from his bald head with a towel, then took a sip from his water bottle.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Any progress on finding out more about the SHRA?”

“Unfortunately not. Since SHIELD is a UN-sanctioned agency, that prevents us from looking into the Pentagon and its operations too thoroughly.”

“At least in an official capacity,” said Josiah.

Sharon sighed. “Unofficial hasn’t yielded any better results, I’m afraid. Control is good at covering their tracks on this one. You realize they’re getting bolder, right?”

“Yeah, I know. Introducing the bill in the first place proves that much. If this is passed, the ramifications could be disastrous.”

“So what do you expect to do about it? Go beat up a United States Senator?”

Josiah chuckled. “As tempting as that idea is, no. It’s clear from the Crowne situation that whoever introduces this bill is nothing more than a puppet of Control. Crowne was killed because he wouldn’t play ball and now they’ve gotten this Senator Sharpe to replace him. If she gets removed from the board, they’ll just choose someone else.”

“So what do you propose?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. There’s still a lot we don’t know about these people and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t wage war against an unknown enemy. So bottom line, until we know more about Control—until we can put faces to them—we don’t know anything.”

“And how do you suggest we go about that?” asked Sharon.

“I’m working on it,” said Josiah.

“Why haven’t you included the rest of us on it?”

Now it was Josiah’s turn to sigh as he took another sip of his water. “To be honest? I’m not sure who I can trust.”

Sharon cocked an eyebrow. “That better not be directed at me.”

“It’s nothing personal, Sharon. But after Nomad killed Steve, I’ve earned my right to be suspicious,” said Josiah. “And unlike you, I have the benefit of not having run in these circles for a number of years, so I don’t have any preconceptions about who should or shouldn’t be trusted.”

“So how exactly are you ‘working on it?’”

“I’ve resources other than SHIELD and I’m using them in the way I feel is best. That’s all you really need to know for the moment.”

“You know, if this partnership is going to work, you’re going to have to start trusting me,” said Sharon. “Steve saw me as more than just a liaison to SHIELD—he saw me as an equal partner. And he trusted me unconditionally.”

“Steve also felt the world needed a different kind of Captain America, that’s why he picked me. And I do things differently than he did. Either you learn to live with that or you get a new assignment.”

“You’re not him.”

“I never said I was. Nor am I trying to be,” said Josiah.

“Just remember that Steve wore that flag longer than you did and he was a man respected all over the world.”

“Sharon, I grew up in the fifties. For decades, I’ve been kicked around and treated like crap because of my skin color. So I don’t really care whether or not I’m respected—I live my life by my own code and it’s worked pretty well for me so far.”

“Keep doing this lone gunman thing, and you won’t have anyone left to watch your back.” Sharon spun on her heel and left the training room. Once she left, Josiah walked over to the small table and picked up a cell phone. He dialed one of the numbers on it and waited until he heard a voice on the other end.

“Gyrich, it’s me. Do you have any updates on the Crowne mess?”

“Nothing substantial, I’m afraid. Since Crowne’s been removed, Control’s been quiet. They’ve got Sharpe taking over his job by introducing the SHRA. I’ve heard bupkiss from them.”

“Lay low until they get in touch with you. We don’t want to tip our hand. But see if you can find anything else. Backtrack Americop’s movements, find out when Control may have picked him up. Might give us something to go on.”

In a small motel room, the man sat at a desk in the corner of the room, a wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow over his scarred features. His gloved hand ran over the trackpad of the laptop, backtracking the video which filled the monitor.

The video featured Josiah X, the new Captain America, in action. The Man With No Face witnessed his battle with white supremacists shortly after his debut. The Man took special notice of his partner in that battle, the Falcon. Longtime partner of the original Captain America.

The next scene featured Captain America battling unknown soldiers in Washington, DC. Again, the Falcon was present. The Man With No Face made some notes on the motel stationary pad that sat next to the computer.

Other battles featured Captain America fighting alongside the latest incarnation of the Avengers. Pitting them against the U-Foes, Moses Magnum, and the Wrecking Crew. The Man With No Face picked up his cell phone.

“Are you ready to proceed?” he asked and a smile formed on his disfigured face when the accented voice on the other end confirmed. “Very good.”

Princeton Walk

Josiah ran from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his body, hearing the sound of his phone. The caller ID read BLOCKED and Josiah answered it to find a gruff voice on the other end, a result of several decades of chain-smoking cigars.

“Fury, what’s up?”

“We just got word that an old sparring partner of Steve’s is hitting some jewelry shops in the area. Usually it’s the kinda thing we’d just let local vigilantes handle, but…”

“But since Steve usually went after him, you wanted me to get first crack.”

“Pretty much. An’ given this guy’s MO, it’s a little odd to see him knockin’ over shops.”

“Who is it?” asked Josiah.

“French assassin, Batroc the Leaper.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the name. Thanks for the tip, Fury. Send the coordinates to my phone, I’ll be there ASAP.”

“Watch yourself with this one, X. Lotta people think of Batroc as a joke, but he’s dangerous and one of the best fighters in the world.”

“I’ll remember that.” Josiah hung up the phone and looked at the shield resting alongside the red, white and blue costume.

The orange and purple-clad assassin admired the large diamond in the glass case. He rubbed his goatee, smiling and then beckoned for the store manager. “Monsieur, quel est cet objet?”

The manager looked up from his spot on the floor, hands still on his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Americans…utterly incapable of speaking any language other than their own. This is why I prefer assignments in Canada,” sighed Batroc. He rested his hand on the glass case. “How much is this?”

“I-it’s a few thousand dollars.”

“J’ai perdu ma carte de crédit. What a shame…” Batroc raised the hand which rested on the case, balled his fingers into a fist, and slammed it down, shattering the glass. The alarm blared even more. He heard sirens outside the doors and picked up the large gem, placing it in a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He offered a slight bow to the manager. “You have been most helpful today, sir. Merci.”

Batroc calmly exited through the front entrance and saw several squad cars surrounding him. Uniformed officers stood behind the cars for cover, guns aimed. One of the officers, obviously the one in command, spoke for the rest. “Georges Batroc, you are under arrested! We have you surrounded! Put the jewels down and surrender peacefully, or we will take you by force!”

Batroc clicked his tongue. “Americans… Always with threats of violence.” He took the bag off his shoulder with one hand, his other hand held up in the air. Holding out the bag, he released it and the second it fell to the ground, Batroc had already leapt from his spot. His feet connected with the nearest officer in a scissor-kick, one leg knocking the gun from his hand while the other snapped his head to the side. Batroc landed on the hood for a brief instant and pounced at another officer, grabbing him by the shoulders. As Batroc cartwheeled over the cop, he pulled the officer by his shoulders and threw him into another one.

“FIRE! FIRE!”

With uncanny speed and grace, Batroc flipped and cartwheeled about, nimbly avoiding each bullet and making it look like the simplest thing in the world. A few bullets he dodged ended up striking other officers in the crossfire. As he avoided the gunfire, Batroc was able to get in strikes of his own, quickly taking down the officers who surrounded him. Only one remained, the officer in charge of the bust. He raised his gun in fear as Batroc slowly approached and pulled the trigger.

*KLIK*

A broad smirk spread across the assassin’s face. “It appears you are out of bullets…and out of luck.”

Batroc swung his leg around in a roundhouse kick. But instead of connecting with the officer’s head and snapping the poor man’s neck, it struck something hard and metal with a loud CLANG. Batroc lowered his face and saw the familiar white star nestled inside a blue circle with white and red circles surrounding that. Holding the iconic shield was the man he had come here to see.

“Ah, so we finally meet, mon ami. Although I am sure no introductions are necessary, I shall do the gentlemanly thing.” He gave an extravagant bow. “Georges Batroc, Soldier of Fortune par excellence.”

“Funny, I always heard you were some second-rate mercenary,” said Captain America.

“And it has been said you are nothing more than a pale imitation of Steven Rogers. By the way, my condolences on his passing. I admired his skill and truly regret that I was not the one to take his life.”

“He never would have given you the chance,” said Captain America. “What’s this all about? Petty theft isn’t exactly what one expects from you, Batroc.”

“I prefer the term ‘grand larceny.’”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Have we done enough of this…how do you say…banter?” asked Batroc.

Captain America’s response was to charge at the assassin with his shield at the fore. Batroc jumped to the side and pounced, flipping in the air and driving his legs into Josiah’s back. Captain America recovered quickly, rolling into the fall and getting back to his feet almost instantly. He raised the shield and threw it forward. Batroc ducked, then used his hands as a springboard. He launched himself at Captain America’s legs, using a scissor-kick to bring him toppling.

“That was sloppy, mon ami. Not so skilled with that shield, I see. Not like he was.”

Batroc drove his foot into Captain America’s chest, forcing the wind from his body. He brought his foot up again and then began to stomp on Josiah’s face. As he moved for another strike, Captain America rolled free just before Batroc’s foot struck pavement. Captain America flipped back onto his hands and sprung upward, his legs connecting with the Leaper’s jaw.

Josiah wiped the blood from his lip. “Didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?”

Batroc smiled. “Now, mon ami, we dance for real.”

Harlem

The taxi pulled up in front of the apartment building. Sam Wilson exited from the rear, just returning from the hospital following the battle with Americop. Even though he had recovered, he felt too tired to put on his Falcon gear and fly home, which was held in the bag hanging from his shoulder. So instead, he opted for a cab.

On his approach to the steps of his apartment building, Sam noticed a man leaning against the stairs. He was clad in a beat-up coat with a wide-brimmed hat concealing his features. In his hand, which Sam could tell had burns on it, he held a cup with some bills and coins in it.

Sam kneeled down by the man. “Hey there, you need some help?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” said the man, raising his head up so Sam could see his face.

“What happened to you?” asked Sam.

“It was a long time ago. Scars which shall never heal. But now, I have the opportunity for revenge.”

“What are you—”

The Man With No Face sprung to his feet, his fist striking Sam in the stomach with incredible force. He followed up with a cross against Sam’s cheek, powerful enough to knock Sam off his feet. The Man With No Face reached inside his coat and produced a syringe. He knelt over Sam’s body and injected him with the sedative. Just before Sam passed out, he heard his attacker’s voice.

“The best way to strike at Josiah Smith is through his partners.”

Captain America retrieved his shield just in time to block a powerful kick from Batroc. He surged forward, slamming the shield against Batroc’s chin and following with a kick to the abdomen. Captain America grabbed hold of Batroc by his costume and threw him through the window of the jewelry store.

Batroc was on his knees, groaning when Josiah entered the store. As he came closer, Batroc’s feet suddenly lunged up and struck Cap in his chest. Batroc hopped back to his feet and charged forward again, driving an elbow into Captain America’s neck, causing him to struggle to breathe.

“You Americans, I just do not understand. You waste all your time fighting with me, while you leave that pretty little cherie all by her lonesome?”

“Wh-what are you—?” asked Josiah, still having trouble speaking.

“The blond one, you know who I mean,” said Batroc with a smile. “This is a dangerous city, no? And she is all alone.”

He lightly slapped Josiah’s cheek a few times before he made his escape. Batroc jumped, grabbing the overhang in front of the store window and swung onto it. He bounced on the overhang, grabbed hold of a flagpole, and swung around it to build up momentum, using it to fly higher and grab onto a ledge. It wasn’t long before he was on the rooftops, running out of sight.

Josiah struggled to get up, finally catching his breath again. He slid the shield’s straps over his shoulder and made his way over to his motorcycle, revving it up and driving off. Batroc would have to wait for now, unfortunately. He wouldn’t have referenced Sharon for no reason.

As Josiah came closer to the building Sharon lived, he saw an explosion come from her unit specifically, the force powerful enough to knock him from the bike.