Bentley Wittman sat with his fingertips touching as he processed the information he just received. “Would you care…to run that by me again?”

Across from him stood Milos Masaryk, the man known as the Unicorn. “I know where I can find it. It’s in a cache of technology.”

“And you failed to bring this up before because…?”

“To be honest?” asked the Unicorn. “It’s because I only just remembered it.”

“And you’re sure it’s there?”

“That man is the reason I am who I am today. I started out there as security.”

“Speaking of security, how is it there?” asked the Wizard.

“Non-existent. The site has been mothballed with all the transition the Russian government has gone through. But I promise you, it’s there.”

“We’ll look into it,” said the Wizard. “Thank you, Milos.”

The Unicorn nodded and left the room. The Wizard stood from his chair and looked at his companion, the Eel. “Yes, Edward? Is there something you have to say?”

“You’re not gonna take that guy seriously, are you?” asked the Eel.

“Why not? He worked for the man, he probably knows better than anyone where his technology is hidden.”

“Yeah, except you’re overlooking one very important fact—the Unicorn’s a fuckin’ nutter.”

“A ‘nutter,’ eh?”

“A fuckin’ nutter,” said the Eel. “He keeps asking me if I remembered the time we worked with Nefaria. I never worked with Nefaria. Hell, I never worked with the Unicorn, for that matter. I’ve told him countless times I’m not that Eel but it doesn’t register.”

“He’s undergone a lot of psychological tampering in his life.”

“Like I said—fuckin’ nutter.”

“Whatever the case, this is something Strucker might want to know about,” said the Wizard as he rose from his chair. He turned to the Eel one last time. “Finish up charging that console. And don’t break anything.”

“What am I, an idiot?” asked the Eel.

“Trust me, Edward—you don’t want me to answer that question,” said the Wizard as he exited, hands clasped behind his back. He walked down the corridor and stepped into the elevator, hitting the button for the top floor. When the doors opened once more, the Wizard found himself in a large room with Strucker standing in the center, barking orders to masked Hydra operatives. The Wizard calmly approached his employer.

“Baron, if I could have a moment…” he began.

“Wittman, perhaps you’d be better served not wasting my time—and yours—with these little ‘moments’ and ‘asides,’” said Strucker. “It appears to me, that time would be better spent getting our security up and running, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m working as fast as I can and right now I have the Eel finishing up some—”

“And you are relying on underlings to do the job I am paying you for?” asked Strucker. “Tell me, ‘Wingless Wizard,’ what is your purpose here, other than wasting my time?”

The Wizard took a breath, holding his calm. Unfortunately, this had become something of a regular occurrence since he began working for Strucker and Hydra. For his part, the Wizard had done everything that had been asked of him, but now he found Strucker’s unrealistic expectations beginning to push him closer and closer to the edge.

“I apologize for the interruption,” said the Wizard.

“Then leave,” said Strucker. “I have business to attend to concerning the otherwise-unremarkable state of Colorado and I can’t have you buzzing about. So get back to work.”

The Wizard clenched his teeth and behind his back, his hands balled into fists. “As you wish, Baron.”

The Wizard returned to the elevator and pressed the button for the return back to the level he came from. During the descent, the elevator stopped and a masked Hydra agent entered the elevator. He pushed the button for the floor below the Wizard’s destination.

During the descent, the Wizard reached inside one of the compartments on his armor and pulled out a few containers—the drug known as neuroin. He handed them off to the agent, who quickly deposited them in the pouches on his belt.

“Tell him I’m still onboard,” said the Wizard.

MASTERS AND SLAVES

Part IV

By Steve Seinberg and Dino Pollard

Castle Zemo

Baron Helmut Zemo stood before his latest gathering. The usual members of his inner circle—the Fixer, Radioactive Man, the Swordsman and the Abomination were all present. Also included on this meeting, however, were Hawkeye and MACH-IV.

“Because of the efforts of Abe and the Fixer, we have been able to get our mole inside Strucker’s ranks,” said Zemo. “It was their efforts that allowed us to plant a bug on the Ringer, one that has been transmitting us useful information and broadcasts. Fixer?”

“The transmissions have been coming in clear and regularly and we’ve been able to gather a lot about Strucker’s operation,” said the Fixer. “What we know has been confirmed—Strucker’s recruiting from the ranks of the Cowl’s aborted Masters of Evil.”

“That part I’m still sketchy on,” said Hawkeye. “The Cowl went to a lot of trouble amassing such a large group just to have it collapse so quickly. And where’s she gone?”

“We don’t know,” said the Fixer. “We can only assume it had something to do with the Skull’s reality shift. Just like some of our numbers were shuffled around, we can only assume the same happened with the Masters. After all, we were at ground zero when it struck.”

“Who has Strucker recruited?” asked MACH-IV.

“Glad you asked.” The Fixer entered a few commands on the small keyboard built into his gauntlet. The computer’s holographic projector displayed several villains. “Aside from the Ringer, we’ve confirmed that he’s got the Wizard, the Eel, Unicorn, the Wrecking Crew, Speed Demon, and it looks like the Rhino and Man-Ape were just hired on as well. Although these are the ones confirmed, we know there’s a good possibility that he’s got others recruited that the Ringer just hasn’t encountered yet. And as for the purpose of recruiting all these guys, we haven’t figured that out yet, either.”

“Any thoughts?” asked Zemo, turning to Hawkeye and the Swordsman.

“Looks like Strucker’s building an army,” said Hawkeye.

“Andreas?” asked Zemo. “You presumably know your father better than anyone here.”

The Swordsman shrugged.

“Very helpful, thank you,” said Zemo. “You are all dismissed.”

Hawkeye, MACH-IV and the Swordsman rose to leave. The Fixer lingered a bit but after looking to Zemo, the Baron dismissed his charge with a nod. The only two left in the room were the Radioactive Man and the Abomination.

“It’s dangerous to involve Barton in these meetings,” said the Radioactive Man.

“Agreed,” said the Abomination. “I fail to see the logic behind this, Baron.”

“Barton will be involved when it suits my purposes,” said Zemo. “This is one of those times. We know he once worked with Strucker so we can’t rule out the possibility that they’re still in league together. By including him in meetings such as this, we show him the true scope of Strucker’s plans and give him more reason to consider which of us is the lesser evil. By keeping Barton more informed than Strucker has, we become the devil he knows.”

Jack O’Lantern raced past Blizzard on his glider, holding a flaming pumpkin bomb in each hand. He cackled as he threw them both simultaneously. Blizzard threw up his arms, freezing them as quickly as he could, but apparently not fast enough as they still had enough of a charge to unleash a small explosion only a few feet from him, enough to knock him back.

“Christ, is that the best you’ve got, Gill?” asked Jack O’Lantern. “No wonder you always get your ass handed to you.”

Donnie Gill gritted his teeth behind his mask. “Pathetic? I’ll show you pathetic, you third-rate Goblin wannabe!”

Blizzard generated an ice slide beneath his legs, chasing after Jack O’Lantern, who easily avoided him with his glider, laughing the entire time. He turned occasionally to hurl razor-sharp bat wings, which Blizzard was able to easily avoid.

“Better a wannabe than a fuckin’ junkie,” said the Jack O’Lantern. He pulled a hundred and eighty degree turn, throwing another pumpkin bomb that blew up the slide from under Blizzard’s feet. As Blizzard fell, the Jack O’Lantern circled back around, pointing two fingers and unleashing a charge from the circuitry within his glove, the energy blast adding insult to injury.

Once Blizzard hit the ground, the Jack O’Lantern flew down and hovered above him, leaning down so the flaming pumpkin which served as his head was just a few inches away from Donnie’s face.

“Face it, you’re a worthless sack of skin,” said the Jack O’Lantern. “Some of these guys may be insane, but at least they all pull their own weight. What do you contribute, eh? You’re nothing but a drag on this team and I’ve made it my personal mission to whip your pansy-ass into shape. So what do you say to that, Iceboy?”

Blizzard’s hands wrapped around the Jack O’Lantern’s wrists and he began to freeze them. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?”

“Pulling my weight!” said Blizzard. He lunged forward, head-butting the Jack O’Lantern and knocking him from the glider.

Jack O’Lantern reached for a pumpkin bomb but before he could activate it, Blizzard fired an ice blast, freezing the pumpkin to his hand. He generated a bat made of solid ice in his hand and approached his supposed teammate.

“How’s this for pullin’ my weight, Levins?” asked Blizzard as he brought the chunk of ice down on the Jack O’Lantern’s head. He continued to beat down on the man, destroying the pumpkin mask he wore and now bringing the ice bat down on the bare face of Steven Levins. He kicked him in the ribs, making sure to generate a block of ice around his foot before he did.

“That wasn’t the best I got, now you’re getting the best I got, you fuck!” shouted Blizzard, laughing as he continued to pummel his foe. “What’s wrong, ‘Jack’? Why aren’t you callin’ me a junkie? Or a pathetic loser? Or a worthless sack of skin? What happened to all your big talk, man?”

He pounded the ice bat with more and more intensity, not even realizing that Jack O’Lantern had now fallen unconscious. But still he continued, not satisfied yet with the bloodied body he pounded on.

“Now this is me whipping your pansy-ass into shape! How you like that, Jack?”

An energy blast struck Donnie from behind and he was knocked off Jack O’Lantern. MACH-IV came up to him, grabbing him by the collar of his suit. “What the hell’s the matter with you, Donnie? Not like you to—”

“BACK THE FUCK OFF!” shouted Blizzard, turning and covering MACH-IV’s helmet with frost. MACH-IV grabbed Blizzard’s arm and squeezed, the circuitry in his glove sparking as it was crushed. He twisted Blizzard’s arm behind his back.

“I could rip your arm off right now, so I’d calm down if I were you,” said MACH-IV.

Blizzard stopped struggling and MACH-IV released him. “What the hell’s your problem anyway?”

“Fuck off, Beetle!” said Blizzard. “Think just ’cause you got a fancy new suit you’re no longer a loser? You’ll always be a joke to us. Especially with the way you suck up to guys like Hawkeye, hopin’ someone will finally respect a piece of shit like you!”

MACH-IV remained stoic as Blizzard unleashed a verbal barb. Then finally, he spoke up: “you’re a fine one to talk, Donnie. I can’t even be mad at you. Fact is, I just feel sorry for you.”

“You what?” shouted Blizzard. “You don’t feel sorry for me! You don’t get to feel sorry for me, you hear?”

“Maybe if you stopped fucking around and actually did something useful, I wouldn’t have reason to,” said MACH-IV.

Blizzard charged towards him and MACH-IV just calmly raised his hand and unleashed an energy blast from his gauntlet that knocked the villain to the ground, unconscious. He walked over to Jack O’Lantern and examined him as some of the other Thunderbolts approached—Bullseye, Songbird and the Swordsman.

“Shit, Blizzard did that?” asked Bullseye. “Guess there’s hope for the little piss-ant yet.”

“He almost killed him, you sick fuck,” said Songbird.

“Oh cry me a fuckin’ river,” said Bullseye. “Don’t start actin’ like you actually give a rat’s ass about any of us.”

MACH-IV picked up Jack O’Lantern’s battered body and looked at Songbird. “Mel, tell Ebersol what happened and that I’m bringing Levins down to the med-bay.” He looked at Bullseye and Swordsman. “What? Show’s over, go find something else to do.”

“Maybe next time we could get them in a cage match, eh Andy?” asked Bullseye, slapping the Swordsman on the back. Andreas made no response and Bullseye scoffed. “Damn, no one around here’s any fun.”

Before Melissa went back into the castle, she heard sounds coming from Blizzard and walked over to him. She knelt down and peeled his mask off, revealing an unshaven face, his blue eyes staring up at her.

“H-hey Mel…”

“Get your shit together, Gill,” she said. “We’ve got enough problems without your adolescent need to prove how big your dick is.”

She walked off from him and Donnie’s head fell back, resting on the ground. He looked up as Bullseye walked past and gave him the thumbs up. Then the Swordsman came and just stared at him through that emotionless mask he wore before leaving himself.

Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker stood before Keith Kraft, the Ringer as he donned his green and orange armor. The Wizard was also in the room, checking some of the last-minute modifications to the Ringer’s helmet.

“I trust you understand how important this mission is, Kraft,” said Strucker.

“I do, and I appreciate the honor, Baron,” said the Ringer. He knew, however, the real reason—Strucker needed a means to communicate with this person without risking himself. Of all Strucker’s charges, the Wizard proved too valuable to risk and the other is still too much of a wild card. But the Ringer, if he ended up being flattened, it’d be an acceptable casualty for Strucker.

“Good,” said Strucker. He looked at the Wizard with a sneer. “Wittman, I trust these modifications to the Ringer’s armor will prove adequate?”

The Wizard’s eyebrows knitted together behind his helmet. “Everything will go according to plan, Baron. I promise you this equipment is in complete and total working order.”

“It had better be,” said Strucker.

Castle Zemo

“What are we looking at, Fixer?” asked Zemo as he approached the Fixer’s monitor banks with the Abomination by his side.

“Strucker’s just sent Kraft on a mission. He’s approaching the target now,” said the Fixer, his legs resting on a floating ottoman as he sipped his coffee. “There.” The Fixer pointed to the monitor. “Look familiar?”

“What is it?” asked the Abomination.

“Mount Charteris,” said Zemo. “Once the Thunderbolts’ base of operations before it was destroyed.”

“And who was it destroyed by?” asked Fixer.

Mount Charteris

“Graviton.”

The eyes of Frank Hall opened. He hovered upside down inside the remains of the Thunderbolts’ old home. Standing before him was the Ringer.

“Baron Strucker would like a word.”