NOTE: Portions of this story take place after the Liberty Worldwide limited series

CONTEMPTIBLE STRUGGLE

By Desmond Reddick

Undisclosed Location, United States

The inconspicuous door in the corner of the Secret Empire’s meeting room took Senator Robert Ralston down a long and winding corridor. The wooden walls and bright red carpet—in keeping with the meeting room itself—were visually appealing, but there was no hint of decor. There were no pictures or pieces of furniture; there was only a barren hallway.

As a founding member of the Penance Council of the V-Battalion, Ralston was used to being in the company of some of the world’s most powerful humans. Sometimes non-humans. But every time he stood outside the door of this meeting room, his heart fluttered with the power, both political and physical, inside.

There was no pass code, no key, for the wooden door. For anyone who was not welcome down the hallway would surely have been killed by the myriad of lethal security measures invisible to the naked human eye. Ralston was welcome behind this door, and that scared him.

He grasped the door handle, exhaled and entered the room. It was plain, even blander than the hallway. Ralston stepped from the crimson carpeted hallway into the builders’ beige room with thin grey carpet. In the middle of the room sat a circular table. On one side of the table, two computer monitors faced the center of the table.

Two other men ringed the rest of the table. Only one chair sat empty, and Ralston made his way to it.

“Evening Robert,” the young man to his left said.

“Hello, Guy,” Robert replied. The leader of ULTIMATUM was a decent enough person, but his disdain for sovereign nations made Robert leery of him.

“Robert,” the steel banded Professor Power greeted him coldly.

“Anthony,” Robert replied. Power was more his speed; the man was obsessed with American dominance, that was what Robert was likewise there to do.

The three men did not engage in small talk as they knew the meeting would automatically begin once they all sat at the table. The two monitors blinked to life, displaying the other two members of The Five.

The screen on the right showed a silhouette with a reddened hue; the screen on the left, a broad wrinkled face with distorted features.

“Ralston,” the silhouette began. “Report on the Liberty Legion.”

Ralston cleared his throat before beginning. Even with his years of public service and of being the Secret Empire’s Number One, he was still the low man on the totem pole when it came to The Five. The men in this room had the power to change the world and wielded it readily.

“One of their heavy hitters is in custody. As a result, I’m sure you all know about the disastrous aftermath which will only work in our favor. Seeds of discontent have also been sown, thanks to you, sir.”

The broad wrinkled face on the left-hand screen nodded in acceptance of the compliment.

“A plan is in place to have them all in custody very soon.”

“Good,” the silhouetted one said. “Make sure it is done posthaste before others in the superhuman community find out.”

New York

“We know all about it, Grace. Quit making things harder on yourself,” Thin Man said through clenched teeth.

The core team of the Liberty Legion—without Iron Cross, of course—stood huddled around Thin Man and the traitorous Mongoose in the centre of the large warehouse complex. None of them had seen it before. Blue Diamond knew that a secret base existed based on Thin Man’s operations prior to the reformation of Liberty Legion, but, until he saw the roof of the warehouse dematerialize to allow the Stratoplane to lower through it, he would have thought they were going to fly over it.

Thin Man’s elongated fingers snaked around Mongoose’s body ending in a crown of sharpened tips at all points around her neck. She grunted loudly, but she dared not try to escape. She knew of Thin Man’s willingness to go farther than others on the team.

“It wasn’t me!”

“We have you on camera placing explosives in the lobby of the Roxxon Building. You are conspicuously absent at critical moments, and Amadeus brought up the good point of why Time’s Tower’s security never picked up Valentina’s attackers.”

“Let me kill her,” Red Raven said, stepping forward with spear outstretched.

“You’ve not really done a great job making yourself welcome around here, have you?” Thin Man asked.

“Guys!”

The voice carrying through the warehouse belonged to the diminutive but brilliant Amadeus Cho. He’d been splitting his time between the Daily Bugle and Thin Man’s warehouse for the past week, setting it up with sophisticated telecommunications systems. This was the first time most of the Legionnaires had heard him speak.

Everyone turned to hear what he had to say.

“I found where they’re holding Valentina,” he said solemnly.

“Then let’s quit wasting time and go get her!” Challenger pounded his right fist into his left palm. He wanted to rescue his friend, limp be damned!

“But,” Amadeus continued, “I found the location in a directory I had already searched.”
“We all make mistakes, son. We’re all glad you looked again,” Elton said, pulling his cowl over his head.

“With all due respect, sir: I didn’t make a mistake,” Cho said without trying to sound superior, but failing in that aspect. “It was leaked. They’ll know we’re coming.”

“Then, let’s not keep them waiting,” Red Raven said.

Thin Man secured the last electronic cuff to Mongoose, dampening her powers and tying her to a chair. He took off in a sprint towards the Stratoplane and shouted: “Let’s go, Legion!”

Berlin, Germany

Black Crow’s blood ran cold the moment he burst through the archivist’s office door. He could see immediately that Vormund, though he was twisted into a ball on the floor, was alive. But it was the feeling of immense evil and hatred in the room that made him shudder.

“Great Earth Spirit,” he mumbled under his breath. “We sent him into an ambush.”

Kneeling beside the German hero, Black Crow lifted his head gently off of the floor.

“W-wuh-warn them,” Vormund said through gasping breaths.

“Don’t worry, my friend,” he said. “We brought friends.”

Black Forest, Germany

“Look alive, team!”

With those words, Colonel Jim Hammond, wearing his usual yellow-accented red jumpsuit, hit the button to drop the cargo ramp of the C-123K, burst into flame and launched himself out of the rear of the plane.

Living Lightning, Texas Twister, and Sabra immediately followed suit. Zero-G looked at his friend Rage, and breathed out. They both stepped out of the back of the plane. The young hero used his gravity manipulating powers to slow their descent as the airborne members of their team already began to take down the flaming androids.

Living Lightning launched himself from android to android hoping to short them out.

“They’re very well insulated, sir! I’m having no effect!” he shouted into his communications headset.

“I know,” Human Torch responded.

Texas Twister did his best to snuff out the flames to no avail; Sabra battered any android that came near her with violent zeal; Rage and Zero-G attended to their targets. Micromax and Omerta—part of a Human Torch led international fact-finding team—laid unconscious near a huge hole in the ground. The two heroes, younger by several years than their nearest peer on the team, attended to the knocked out pair before them.

“These bogeys look familiar, Colonel?” Texas Twister asked while using his tornado-based power to both propel him through the air and extinguish flames being shot at him.

“It’s crossed my mind, yes,” Hammond said surveying the battle his team was involved in.

He watched as the androids flew flaming circles around his team. Only Sabra was able to take the fight to the androids with any lasting effect. These androids were not as powerful as Hammond and he knew that he would likely be able to defeat them, but this was as good a testing ground as any.

“Zero-G!” The command came barking over his headset from Human Torch. “Ground them.”

Alex Power set his metal-booted feet into the ground and concentrated on the flaming androids. He raised his hands, spread his fingers and then threw them forcibly toward the ground as if he were slamming an invisible trunk.

All of the android combatants immediately fell from the sky, pushed by an unseen force. Twister and Lightning watched as their dancing partners plummeted to the ground. With a victorious war cry, Sabra rode her enemy on its descent like a surfboard.

The Human Torch would have noted that Sabra took great enjoyment in fighting Nazis, even if they are robots, but he was too busy being thrown to the ground as well.

When Zero-G saw the red-suited hero hit the ground at the same time as the snuffed-out androids they were sent to fight, he almost died of embarrassment. The act took a lot out of him; he tried to distinguish between the heroic flaming android and the Nazi flaming androids, but the better part of valor took hold. He winced at his attack on the man whose exploits predated Captain America as his nose bled from the cranial pressure of exerting such an effect on the gravitational field.

“Ha! Epic fail, shortstuff,” Rage said as he stepped in front of his friend to protect him in his weakened state.

Torch got to his feet examining the surroundings. He was a little pissed off at being lumped in with the androids they came to fight, but, on the other hand, he was impressed with the boy’s show of power. Zero-G had a lot to learn, and that was exactly why he chose him. Besides, in flame form he was virtually indistinguishable from the other androids.

Rage and the other heroes were busy putting the hurt on the androids. Torch was happy to see that any time one of the androids would flame on, Texas Twister would put a mini tornado around them, sucking away the oxygen from their bodies. Sabra punched holes through them mercilessly. She was a true heavy-hitter, that one.

He moved towards Zero-G who sat on the edge of the crater trying to stem his dizziness.

“Don’t worry about it, Alex,” Torch said. “You did a great job. I can handle a fall. But we ended this quickly today because of you. Don’t forget that.”

“Thanks,” Alex said sheepishly.

“We’ll have plenty of time to wo—”

The Human Torch was distracted from his consoling of the boy by a bent and scorched steel door peeking out from under the rubble in the crater. He bounded down the slope into the crater that used to be the entrance to the hidden underground walkway, standing as he slid down the hill toward the door.

Micromax pulled himself to his feet and walked to the edge to see Human Torch wiping dirt off of the black, stenciled words on the door that had once shielded Micromax from the army of Nazi human torches.

“Null Waffe. It means Weapon Zero,” Micromax said, trying to be helpful.

“I know what it means.”

NEXT ISSUE: Welcome to an all-new, all-different Liberty Legion! If anything confused you about this issue, make sure you read the Liberty Worldwide series of oneshots that came out preceding this issue and Dino Pollard’s “Sentinel of Liberty” arc in Captain America. Liberty Worldwide because it leads directly into this issue; “Sentinel of Liberty” because it just plain rocks. Oh yeah, this space should be teasing the next issue. Okay, here goes: the next issue is titled “Jailbreak.”