Washington, DC

General Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross emerged from his office at the Pentagon. Walking through the complex, he paused and looked up at the flickering light. It stopped for a moment then went back to normal and Ross continued, a newspaper held under one arm with his other hand carrying a briefcase at his side.

In the parking garage, Ross went to his car, climbing into the front seat. As he started it up and drove to the exit, energy emerged from one of the light fixtures. It struck the ground and molded itself into the shape of a woman wearing a trench coat. The energy flickered away and a tall, slender black woman appeared. She held a hand to her ear.

“Photon here. Target’s on the move. Are you in place?”

As the car emerged from the garage, it was spotted and scanned by an advanced targeting system from several thousand feet in the air. The man in the gray and silver armor hovered momentarily then moved forward, keeping a lock on the car’s movements.

“Copy that, Photon. I’ve got a lock,” said War Machine. He engaged his thrusters, keeping pace with the car and following it as it traveled through the capital. Finally, Ross brought it to a stop in a parking lot near a high rise building and exited.

“War Machine here: he’s about to go into a building where I can’t follow. I’m sending in Tiny Tim.”

A small component magnetically detached from War Machine’s chest plate. It was a miniaturized aircraft that flew down towards the building’s entrance. Inside the cockpit was a man clad from head to toe in dark orange and navy-colored armor. The helmet had a vaguely insectoid appearance, complete with antennae.

“The name’s Ant-Man, Rhodes,” he said as he piloted the small spacecraft towards Ross.

“I know both guys who used that name, O’Grady. And believe me, you aren’t even in their league.”

“Yeah well fuck you too,” said Ant-Man. “This outfit needed someone like me and with Pym, Van Dyne and Lang playing for the spotlight, that means I’m all you got.”

A new voice crackled through the com-links. “Stay focused on the mission, boys. We have to find out what Ross knows.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ant-Man. He followed Ross as he entered the building and into the elevator. Ross tried to swat away what seemed like a simply fly buzzing around, but Ant-Man was able to avoid his strikes. “Christ, the guy’s a pain!”

“Can’t hack it?”

“Shut it, Rhodes. This is harder than it looks!” Ant-Man entered a few commands into the dashboard console and then unhooked his harness. “Autopilot engaged, I’m going in.”

The glass over the cockpit slid open and Ant-Man jumped out. While in the air, he activated the thrusters on his belt, flying over to Ross and dropping into the pocket of his green jacket. When the elevator reached its floor, Ross exited and walked down the hall to a single office. As soon as he entered, he was in a waiting room. The woman behind the glass motioned for him to go on in and so he did.

Ant-Man jumped from the pocket and flew into a corner where he watched as Ross sat on a black leather couch. Seated in front of Ross was a large man dressed in an expensive, custom-tailored suit. He had long brown hair and a beard and wore a monocle over one eye.

“My helmet’s transmitting images of this guy Ross is meeting with. Anyone got an ident?” asked Ant-Man.

“Yes, I know who he is.” The voice was feminine, tinged with a Russian accent. “That’s Doctor Faustus.”

SECRET FILES AND ORIGINS

Part I

By Dino Pollard

A Few Months Ago

“Here’s what we know,” said Nick Fury. “In the 1950s, Weapon Plus created a new Super Soldier, designated Weapon V. This was known as Operation: WHITEOUT. What other information we’ve been able to get on this guy has been sketchy at best. But what we do know is that he’s remained active ever since.”

Jack Monroe spoke without looking up from the file open in his lap. “Erksine’s formula?”

“Pretty logical, but doubtful. Weapon V was part of a separate project, one that had no connection with Operation: REBIRTH,” said Fury. “What we do know is that this was one of the first attempts to merge man an’ machine. An’ we also suspect he was the one who killed Senator Crowne.”

“We may have a connection,” said the third figure in the room—Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. “Thunderbolt Ross.”

“Shouldn’t he be rotting in a military prison?” asked Nomad.

“He’s been released,” said Natasha. “We haven’t been able to gather any region, but he’s since returned to the Pentagon.”

“We know Ross was one of the initial members of Control, so it stands t’ reason that he might have the information we need,” said Fury. “If we can find out who or what Weapon V is, we’ll have another piece of Control’s backstory and be able to track their activities during the first part of the Cold War.”

“That’s where me and my team come in, right?” asked Nomad.

“That about sums it up. You come up with a shortlist?” asked Fury.

“Yeah, right here.” Nomad handed over a sheet of paper with several names scribbled on it. “Since my ‘death,’ I’ve been looking through SHIELD’s files. These are my picks.”

Fury reviewed the list with his good eye and grunted. “Thought I told you t’ pick people not associated with SHIELD or the Avengers.”

“You know how hard it is to find someone who’s never worked with SHIELD or the Avengers?” asked Nomad. “Might as well ask me to assemble a team of leprechauns.”

“I don’t like this, if you get caught it’s too easy to trace you back to us.”

“I think we’re beyond that point,” said Nomad. “If Control has their fingers in as many pies as we think, then we’re going to have a lot of trouble keeping our actions secret from them.”

“What do you think?” asked Fury as he passed the list to Natasha. “After all, your name’s at the top of the list.”

“I’m flattered, Jack,” said Natasha. She scanned the list then handed it back to Fury. “It’s a good team, Nicholas. And those who have Avenger connections aren’t really Thor or Captain America.”

“Okay, you got my approval. Recruitment falls to you an’ ‘Tasha,” said Fury.

“Good afternoon, Thunderbolt,” said Doctor Faustus. “And how was your day?”

“Can’t complain,” said Ross.

The pitch of Faustus’ voice seemed to change. “That’s good. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Nothin’ special, just the same ol’ shit.”

“Did you sign anything, Thunderbolt? Any orders that might be related to our previous discussions?”

“…yeah, there was one thing.”

“And what was it?”

“A kill order.”

“Who is the target?”

“A scientist, Holden Viller. He’d been workin’ with us on some pretty cutting edge tech. Now that his research’s done, we got no need for him.”

“And the operative?”

“Weapon V. He’s our go-to guy for these kinds of jobs.”

“This is a messy business you’re involved in, Thunderbolt.”

“Not much choice. Freedom isn’t free.”

“Yes, I understand that old moniker,” said Faustus. His voice changed again. “General, there was no kill order. You have never heard of Holden Viller. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you understand.”

“I signed no kill order. I have no clue who Holden Viller is.”

“Good,” said Faustus. “Thank you for your time today, General. You will now get in your car and all you will remember of this session is we discussed your father and how his influence is what convinced you to join the army in the first place.”

“Right. My old man, he was a big influence on me.”

Ross rose from the couch and exited the room. Ant-Man watched as he left and then examined Faustus carefully. “You guys get all that?”

“Take him down.”

Ant-Man rocketed from his spot in the corner of the room and came towards Faustus. At first, he mistook O’Grady for a simple fly until O’Grady’s fist connected with Faustus’ jaw, striking him with the full force of O’Grady’s strength.

Ant-Man grew to his full height and placed his feet on the ground. Faustus looked up at him in shock. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”

“You’re coming with me, fatboy,” said Ant-Man.

Faustus grinned as his pitch changed. “I don’t think so. I believe you should leave n—”

Ant-Man silenced him by kicking Faustus in the chest and knocking the wind from his body. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work on me. My helmet is filtering your voice so your little hypnosis trick has no effect.”

He knelt down by Faustus and grabbed him by the collar. “You’re going to tell me everything you know. About Control, about Ross and about Weapon V.”

“What makes you think I’ll tell you anything?” asked Faustus.

An arm extended from the compartment on Ant-Man’s back and sprayed a gas in the face of Doctor Faustus. The German psychiatrist passed out almost instantly.

“Faustus is down. Ready for retrieval,” said Ant-Man.

The door opened to Eric O’Grady’s cell, letting the fluorescent light from the fixtures in the hall outside filter in. A man entered with shaggy brown hair, dressed in gray and red, with a domino mask over his eyes.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Nope,” said O’Grady. “And can’t say I care, either.”

“My name’s Jack Monroe, but you can call me Nomad. And I’d say you should care.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m your ticket out of here.” He raised his hand and held something in his palm. Looked like a smartphone. He scanned through it. “You’ve got quite a history. Trained as a covert operative, had a bright career ahead of you. Until you found a prototype suit of armor based on Hank Pym’s Ant-Man technology.”

“Yeah, then it was bye-bye freedom.”

“What do you expect? You stole the suit and used it to become a thief and a mercenary,” said Nomad. “Not exactly the kind of thing that looks good on a performance evaluation.”

“So SHIELD caught me and locked me up, stripped me of my position and my rank. Now I’ve got a court martial all lined up. Probably end up spending the rest of my life in some blacksite.”

“Doesn’t have to be that way, Eric,” said Nomad. “You showed a pretty impressive handling of that suit. And a man of your flexibility is someone I could use.”

O’Grady chuckled. “Look, I’m flattered. But I don’t swing that way.”

“I was talking about your moral flexibility,” said Nomad. “I’m putting a team together…”

“Guy went down pretty quickly,” said Ant-Man. They stood behind a two-way mirror. On the other side of that mirror in the next room, Faustus was shackled to a chair. Ant-Man’s helmet was now off but he still wore the rest of his armor, leaning against the wall.

War Machine, Black Widow, Nomad, Photon and another woman, dressed in a skintight red and yellow costume with a mask and black hair spilling out the top. Jessica Drew—the Spider-Woman. Next to her was a black man in a blue and white costume, although the domino mask he usually wore was replaced by a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. He was Bill Foster, known in the past as Black Goliath and Giant-Man, now simply Goliath.

“Have you located this Viller person?” asked Photon.

“As soon as we got the name, I put Kasper on his trail,” said Nomad. “Bill, were you able to find anything?”

“Biometrics turned up jack,” said Bill. “Faustus is completely clean—no tracking devices, no nanomachines in his blood, nothing that will lead his superiors to us.”

“That means we just need to find out what he knows about Weapon V,” said the Black Widow.

Ant-Man stood up and cracked his knuckles. “Want me to use some enhanced interrogation techniques?”

Photon spun towards him angrily. “That’s not how we do things.”

“Maybe not how you do things, sister. But this ain’t Interpol,” said Ant-Man.

“We don’t need to resort to that,” said Nomad. He nodded to Spider-Woman. “You up for it?”

“I think I can work something out,” said Jessica as she moved into the interrogation room.

Ant-Man raised his shoulders quizzically. “And what exactly is she gonna do?”

“Maybe you should’ve read her file instead of surfing for porn,” said War Machine. “Jessica secretes pheromones. With the proper control over them, she can have some interesting effects on men.”

Holden Viller walked to his car and from above, he was spotted by a man dressed from head to toe in a white bodysuit with yellow eyes and pointed ears on the mask. Over this he wore a black trench coat buttoned up. For most normal people, Viller would have been too far away to be seen without binoculars or nightvision. Fortunately for the White Tiger, his eyesight was superhuman and he had no problems seeing in the dark.

His boots clung to the wall of the building, the vibranium soles enabling him to defy gravity. Beneath the mask, Kasper Cole still wondered how the hell he ended up in an outfit like this. He’d been a simple cop and had used his White Tiger equipment and abilities as an occasional hero. He felt like he was out of his element.

The White Tiger sighed. “This is getting boring. Always hated stakeouts.” He prepared to leap from the building and follow Viller to his next location. But before he could, his ears picked up the sound of shattering glass. He looked to Viller’s location and saw him huddled behind his car.

“Shit,” he muttered, raising his hand to his mask to activate the hidden com-link. “White Tiger here: I’ve got a sniper!”

He reached inside his coat with both hands and drew the 9mm pistols from the shoulder holsters. The White Tiger pounced from the side of the building, sailing into the parking lot below. As soon as his feet touched ground, he darted over to Viller’s location and leapt on top of Viller’s car.

The White Tiger raised his guns and tried to scan the area, see if he could catch a glimpse of the sniper. No such luck. Whoever this guy was, he was definitely good. As the White Tiger continued to try and find his target, he was hit squarely in the chest and knocked off the car, falling down at Viller’s feet.

“Tiger, do you copy?” asked Nomad into his com-link. No response came. “Dammit. Photon, War Machine, get to his last known location. You guys can get there faster than the rest of us. Widow, Goliath, prep the Quinjet, we might need lift-off at a moment’s notice.”

The team scattered as per their orders, leaving just Ant-Man and Nomad in the room together. “You don’t want me to do anything?”

“I want you to stand by,” said Nomad. “If Jessica can’t get the information we need out of Faustus using her methods, we’ll have to resort to yours.”

As Doctor Faustus sat in Spider-Woman’s presence, his heart beat faster and faster. His cheeks were flushed and he felt a stirring in his body. His lust for her was growing by the moment. Faustus tried to block it out, tried to use techniques in self-hypnosis to steel himself from her effect.

But it was no use. Spider-Woman leaned over him, her face mere inches from his. The proximity was increasing the effect. He felt like he might burst at any moment. “What do you know, Fennhoff?” she asked.

“I…I know nothing.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“It was…” His breathing increased so much it was almost like panting. Beads of sweat began to pour down his forehead. “Oh god, please…whatever you’re doing, please stop it!”

“I will, once you tell me what I want to know.”

“Ross…they wanted me to wipe his memory. Whenever…whenever he did something for them, they didn’t want him to remember.”

“Who’s that? Control?”

“Of course! Who else would it be?”

“Why would they do that?” asked Spider-Woman. “I thought Ross was one of their founding members.”

“He was. But…but he was deemed obsolete. Not prepared for this new world. His fruitless war against the Hulk…it made him unhinged. Unpredictable. Control never wanted the Hulk dead…he was the perfect boogeyman. A symbol of what would happen if…if the marvels went wild.”

“Then why keep him around? Why not kill him?”

“Despite his…failings…Ross was still useful. His connections…in he Pentagon, the government…”

“And Weapon V? Who or what is it?”

“An old soldier. From World War II. Cybernetically-enhanced at the onset of the Cold War…after every assignment, his memory is erased and he is placed in…in suspended animation.”

“And you know this how?” asked Spider-Woman. “Why would Control trust you with this knowledge?”

“Because…for the past decade, I have been responsible for…for erasing his memory,” said Faustus. “Hypnotic suggestions. It’s proven…quite useful.”

“Who is he?” asked Spider-Woman.

“Bucky Barnes,” said Faustus. “But his creators at Weapon Plus have named him the Winter Soldier.”