I don’t know what happened.

One minute, I was with the Fantastic Four. With the Thing going bonkers, they needed a strongman and since I helped against the battle with the Thing, they asked me. We had just finished a tough mission in Latveria where we were forced to fight the Avengers. And just when it seemed like it was over, we got our asses thoroughly handed to us by Doom. Then… I don’t know, the entire world just went white.

The next thing I knew, I was here. Lying at the feet of my friends, the rest of the New Warriors. Ricochet began the assault by throwing one of his explosive discs at me. Luckily, thanks to my tough hide, it didn’t cause too much damage, just hurt like a bitch. Before I had a chance to ask what was going on, Joystick slammed me with one of those energy batons she carries around. And then, Spider-Woman’s psionic webbing kept me trapped while her boyfriend, Gravity, increased the force around his fists and started wailing on me.

I kept asking them why they were doing this, but no one answered. Just kept on delivering blow after blow. But the biggest hurt didn’t come from any of them. And it wasn’t even the strongest hit, but it was because of who gave them to me. My best friend, Robbie Baldwin. Speedball, leader of the New Warriors.

They cleared a path for him and I begged with him. “Robbie,” I said. “What’s going on? You gotta stop this!”

But Robbie wasn’t Robbie anymore. It looked like him, but that spark of joy that was always in his eyes even in the darkest times was gone. It was a look that will haunt me for the rest of my life. He came forward, the multi-colored kinetic balls surrounding his body. And then, he started to give me a beat-down. Called me every single degrading word in the book. Words I don’t want to repeat, not here, not ever. I keep trying to block it out because I don’t want to believe Robbie actually said those things.

“You’re inferior,” he told me. “How dare trash like you invade the sacred home of the Warrior Youth?”

And for the first time, I realized what they were wearing. I noticed the uniform they all shared. Black leather with red piping. But what frightened me the most were the armbands. Red with a white circle on them. In the circle, a black swastika. And in the center of the swastika, a skull as red as blood.

My name is Elvin Haliday. I’m called Rage. And now, I’m starting to feel a lot of the emotion I’m named after. Someone’s screwed with my friends. And although I’m in chains, I won’t stay this way. I’m biding my time, building up my strength. Soon, I’ll be free.

And there’s gonna be hell to pay.

A Fourth Reich Tie-In

GOOD GUYS WEAR BLACK

By Dino Pollard

The Thunderbolts. A group of villains, some reformed, some not. These eight ne’er-do-wells were spared the effects of the Red Skull altering reality with the Cosmic Cube. They sought out a man who could help them against the Red Skull, their founder, Baron Helmut Zemo. Once Moonstone located Zemo, she teleported the team to this abandoned factory. There they found Zemo, naked and hanging from chains. They also found his captors. Before the Skull altered reality, these five young men and women were a team of heroes known as the New Warriors. Now, they’re modern-day versions of the Hitler Youth, led by Zemo’s predecessor–his father, Heinrich Zemo. A man who should be dead.

“Destroy them!” shouted Heinrich. The Warriors sprang into action.

“Thunderbolts, eliminate them!” said Moonstone.

“No, don’t hurt them, just leave them incapacitated,” said Songbird. Moonstone shot an angry look at Melissa Gold. The younger woman was increasingly becoming far too great a burden and Moonstone knew a time would come soon when she would have to deal with Songbird. The girl’s newfound heroism continued to prove to be a massive headache. Same for MACH-IV.

Gravity flew before the Abomination and the hideous creature began to laugh. “You? Do you think you can stand up to me?”

Greg Willis closed his fist, channeling his mutant power to manipulate gravity. He threw a punch at the Abomination, a blow that sent the creature flying through the roof like a rocket. Blizzard looked on in amazement at the display of power.

“Wow… I didn’t think that was even possible…” he said.  Before he could utter another word or attempt to engage Gravity, a metal throwing disc struck his ice slide, exploding on impact. As he fell, Ricochet was upon him, delivering blow after blow. Blizzard grabbed the young hero’s hands and frost appeared over them. He then generated an ice slide right before they struck the ground and allowed Ricochet to fall.

The Fixer’s mechanical arms fired round after round at Speedball, who bounced between them, easily avoiding each strike. “Stand still, would ya?” said the Fixer. Speedball flew towards a wall and on impact, flew back towards the Fixer. He extended his hand, a stream of multi-colored orbs exploding from his fingertips. The Fixer was pounded by the kinetic balls, unable to deflect a single one of them. By the time the strobe effect had passed and the Fixer was able to lower his guard once again, a psionic web snatched him up, attaching him to the rafters. He tried to cut through with his Techpac, but with no luck.

“Nice try,” said Spider-Woman, hanging upside down. “Those webs are psionic, it’ll take a lot more than knives to cut through them.

“How about a lack of concentration?” asked Songbird as she cut loose with a sonic blast. Spider-Woman gripped her head, her concentration faltering and the webs dissipating. The Fixer stretched his arms out and winked at Songbird.

“Thanks for the help, dollface,” he said.

“You wanna thank me, do it by freeing Helmut,” said Songbird.

“A woman after my own heart,” said the Fixer.

MACH-IV engaged Joystick. As soon as he approached, she let loose with her energy batons, hurling one after another at him. His armor protected him from the blunt of the attack, but the batons still proved difficult for him to manuever. He activated his targeting system and once he locked on, kicked his thrusters into overdrive. Jetting past her, he extended his arm and a small device flew from his gauntlet. It struck Joystick in the chest. She looked down at it and a moment later, electricity coursed through her body, short-circuiting her own gauntlets and leaving her unconscious.

The Radioactive Man exchanged blow after blow with Gravity. The mutant powerhouse was definitely no slouch. And with each punch, Chen Lu felt his arms growing heavier and heavier. He knew it was Gravity’s doing, but he had no alternative at the moment. Songbird was right, these kids shouldn’t be harmed. They were nothing more than the Skull’s pawns and Lu had no desire to murder them for that.

Still, something else weighed heavy on his mind. Radioactive Man watched as Gravity sent the Abomination flying out but both the Swordsman and Moonstone were unaccounted for. And given Karla Sofen’s disturbing personality profile, Chen Lu doubted the Thunderbolts’ de facto leader was up to anything good.

The Swordsman slipped away from the battle. The Thunderbolts outnumbered the Warriors and outside of Blizzard, he was the easiest to spare to find out whatever he could. Besides, the Swordsman wouldn’t trust Donnie Gill with a pet goldfish, let alone an investigation into the mystery of Heinrich Zemo.

Andreas von Strucker didn’t even know what he was searching for. But he a very good idea that he could find something. And something he indeed did find. A few rooms away, also chained as Helmut, was a young man wearing a black, leather mask over his face. The Swordsman could see by the young man’s bare skin that he was black and instantly he knew why this man was chained.

“You’re not in a camp,” said the Swordsman.

“Who are you?” asked Rage.

“The Swordsman.”

“Can’t be, he’s dead,” said Rage.

“And how would you know that?” asked Strucker.

“‘Cause I was an Avenger once. One of the things I did in my free time at the mansion was read up on past Avengers. An’ the Swordsman’s dead.”

“You have a good memory,” said Strucker. “I’m the new and improved model.”

“Heh, whatever you say, man, just get me outta here,” said Rage. “Are the rest of the Avengers here too?”

“I’m not an Avenger,” said Strucker, nearly spitting out that last word. His father’s prejudices alive in him, apparently. Still, the Swordsman did as Rage asked and began to burn through the chains with the heat ray from his blade.

“Did you see the Warriors?” asked Rage.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t hurt ’em, did you?”

“Not me, but my teammates might.”

“No, they can’t!” said Rage. “Look man, you don’t understand. Something funky’s going on and the Warriors, they got nothing to do with it. They’re being controlled, I know it!”

“The Red Skull altered reality with a Cosmic Cube,” said the Swordsman. “In this new world, the Nazis didn’t lose World War II. Welcome to the Fourth Reich.”

“Guess that explains the flash I saw…” said Rage. “Look, just get me outta here, I’ve got a bone to pick with that Zemo dude.”

Moonstone hovered between dimensions above Stormfront-1. The search for Zemo had merely been a ruse, a way to separate herself from the rest of the Thunderbolts without arousing too much suspicion. A chance for her to secure hertrue prize.

The nuclear warheads they stole. With these, she could corner the Skull, force him to turn over the Cosmic Cube to her. Or simply use them as a destraction so she could whisk it away, combine it with her stones to increase her power.

Karla Sofen, Empress of Earth.

She had to admit, it had a nice ring to it.

“Hang on, Helmut, I’ll have you out in just a sec,” said the Fixer. A cutting torch from one of his telescoping arms burned through Zemo’s chains until they snapped open. Zemo collapsed into Ebersol’s arms.

“You okay, boss?” asked the Fixer. Zemo fixed his gaze on his father.

“I will be, once I tie up a loose end…”

Helmut pulled away from the Fixer and strode past the battlefield, not giving a simple thought to his nakedness. Instead, he strode triumphantly, proudly, as a baron should.

“Heinrich,” he said, climbing the ladder to the catwalk his father stood on. “If you were a true Zemo, you would come and face me, not allow your pitiful lapdogs to do your work for you.”

“You dare–!” exclaimed Heinrich. He drew his blade and pointed it at his son. “You disgrace our family, Helmut. You are not worthy of the name Zemo!”

“Then do something about it,” said Helmut, his eyes narrowed. Heinrich thrust forward with the sword and Helmut stepped to the side, the blade narrowly missing him. Helmut retaliated by delivering a swift kick to his father’s jaw. He followed up that blow when he drove his elbow into Heinrich’s chest. The twelfth Baron Zemo slumped forward. Helmut grabbed Heinrich’s ears through his purple mask and slammed Heinrich’s head against Helmut’s knee. Heinrich fell to the ground and his son picked up the discarded sword, pointing it at his father’s head.

“Well father? Any last words?”

As the battle continued, a new player entered the field. Rage leapt on Speedball’s back, pinning his friend to the ground. Speedball gritted his teeth in anger at the new arrival. “Get… off! You filthy piece of trash, getoff me!”

Kinetic balls exploded from Baldwin’s body and Rage was forced back. But he regained his compose quickly and strode towards his friend. “Not gonna happen, Robbie.”

“You stupid waste of skin!” said Robbie. He hurled more balls but with each one, Rage just stood his ground and let them strike him as if they had no effect. Once he came close enough, he grabbed Speedball’s wrists and held them together in one hand. His other hand wrapped around his best friend’s throat.

“Go ahead,” said Speedball. “Do it.”

Rage’s grip loosened. “No, not gonna happen. You’re my best friend, Robbie. Only you don’t remember it anymore. Something’s changed, made you into someone you’re not. And I’m not gonna stand by and watch you do this to yourself. Don’t care if that means you gotta kill me, but I’m standing right here.”

“Friend? Don’t make me laugh!” said Speedball, spitting in Rage’s eye. “I would never be friends with someone of such an impure race!”

“You’re no Nazi, Robbie, you’re the most tolerant guy I know,” said Rage. “You’re Robbie Baldwin. All your life, all you’ve ever wanted to be was a superhero. You lead the New Warriors. You’ve got friends from all walks of life. An’ now, you’re about to throw all that away. And for what?”

Robbie stopped struggling for a moment and looked into the eyes of his friend. Rage could tell he reached the young man, there was a glimmer in there, something that reminded him of the past.

“C’mon man, this ain’t you,” said Rage. He pointed to the dueling Zemos on the catwalk. “Look at that. Is that what you wanna be? Some washed-up Nazi has-been who’s hated by his own kid? That life’s not for you, Robbie.”

On the catwalk, Helmut held the blade against his father’s throat. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself, father?”

“You’re no son of mine,” said Heinrich.

“And you’re not my father,” said Helmut. “I know what this is, Schmidt. An extension of yourself. An attempt to recapture your long lost glory days. A way for you to remain in control every where at every time. You thought you could eliminate me from the game by leaving me with an imposter of my father. You thought if he called me a disgrace, if he tortured me, it would break me. But you forgot one thing.”

Helmut raised his sword and sliced off Heinrich’s head. As soon as the head flew in the air, Heinrich vanished in a flash of energy.

“My father was pathetic. Fascism is a path for the weak. Only a small man would need to eliminate other races to make himself superior. I am Baron Zemo, my goals are loftier than vanity.”

With Heinrich gone, the effect of the Skull’s Cosmic Cube lessened and the Warriors found themselves regaining portions of their memory back.

“What’s going on?” asked MACH-IV.

“His concentration is weakened, too many fronts, too much to control all at once,” said Zemo. He felt something inside him and realized how Moonstone located him. And at that moment, she appeared before the Thunderbolts and the New Warriors.

“Well done, Helmut,” she said. “You were able to provide just the distraction I needed.”

“And you, my dear, there’s something you hadn’t counted on,” said Zemo with a smile.

“Which is?” she asked.

“Your moonstones, you think of them merely as tools rather than the sentient beings they truly are,” said Zemo. “Ever since I returned to the Thunderbolts, I’ve been studying you and I’ve found a weakness. And you yourself allowed me to exploit that weakness by giving me Jameson’s stone. You opened a line of communication between myself and your moonstones.”

Zemo extended his hand and Karla’s face contorted in pain as the moonstones tore free from her body. All three moonstones hovered around him and bathed him in a glowing, warm light. Once the light faded, he stood in complete garb once more. Karla Sofen lay at Zemo’s feet, naked and unconscious.

“Your moonstones wanted a new master,” he said.

“What now, boss?” asked the Fixer.

Zemo smiled beneath the mask. “Now we wait.”

“What about the Skull?” asked Songbird. “Aren’t we going to stop him?”

“We don’t need to do anything,” said Zemo. “Two players who have been absent are about to return to the game. And once they do, the Skull will not be an issue.”

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