Castle Zemo

A small projector provided a three-dimensional holographic view of the Mojave Desert. The projector was attached to the Fixer’s Tech-Pack, and the hologram spanned the entire table of the small conference room. Ebersol stood at one end of the table and seated across from each other were Mentallo and Jack O’Lantern. Both the men had their respective headgear off as they watched the presentation.

“This looks boring,” said Flumm, fighting to suppress a yawn. “Who would ever want to live in a place so devoid of anything even resembling a night life?”

“Get sharp, Flumm,” said the Fixer. “There’s one thing out here that we’re interested in. Look at this.”

The hologram zoomed in on one area, revealing a small, warehouse-like structure. It was dilapidated, obviously weathered courtesy of the harsh elements in the area. Flumm arched his brow.

“Seriously? I think we need to have a discussion about the word ‘interesting.’”

“You should know better than to judge on appearances in this game. Though it may not look like much, it cleverly disguises a decently-equipped bunker beneath the ground,” said the Fixer. “Not only has it been tricked out by one of our peers, but said peer is currently the only occupant.”

“Who’s that and why do we care?” asked Levins.

“Donald Clendenon, who thanks to our former uneasy ally Barton, has recently reformed,” said the Fixer. The hologram shifted, changing to an image of a black man in a red suit of armor.

“Fucking Cardinal?” asked Levins.

“These days he calls himself Harrier,” said the Fixer.

“Don’t matter what he calls himself, that nigger’s a joke. Only guys who start walkin’ the straight-an’-narrow are has-beens and never-weres,” said Levins.

“Such a cultured tongue you have, Marcus,” said Flumm.

“Blow me, fag.”

“You’re not careful, you just may end up with an uncontrollable urge to blow me.”

Levins glared at his teammate and flexed his wrist, which caused a razor sharp batwing to pop into his fingertips. “Just fuckin’ try.”

“Both of you, shut the hell up,” said the Fixer. “Levins, you’d better hope Clendenon’s a joke, because taking him on is your job.”

“The hell are you two gonna be doing?” asked Levins. “And why’s Zemo want this monkey anyway?”

“He doesn’t, Zemo just wants what Clendenon knows,” said Fixer. “You provide the distraction, Flumm and I extract the intel.”

“Taking care of some third-rate jackass like him won’t be a problem,” said Levins.

“Funny, didn’t you once say something similar about Donnie Gill?” asked the Fixer. “Y’know, before he beat you within an inch of your life.”

“Gill?” asked Flumm with a chuckle. He looked at Levins. “You got your ass kicked by Blizzard?”

The anger on Levins’ face was unmistakable and Ebersol couldn’t resist poking him a little more for good measure. “In front of half a dozen T-Bolts no less.”

Flumm’s chuckle quickly evolved into a laugh.

“Lucky break, that’s all,” said Levins.

“Better be. Because I don’t have time for any of your bullshit on this job,” said the Fixer. He leaned against the table, staring into Levins’ eyes. “We understand each other, Jack?”

Levins stood, kicking his chair back in the process. “Whatever. Let’s do this, I feel like blowin’ shit up anyway.”

THE CARDINAL RULE

By Steve Seinberg and Dino Pollard

In another room in the Castle, Baron Helmut Zemo entered, causing two of his lieutenants to pause their conversation. Both the Abomination and the Radioactive Man—two beings whose appearances belied their impressive intelligence—were busy gathering information.

Zemo looked at the white board and saw photographs of Justin Hammer and his daughter, Justine (in her guise as the Crimson Cowl), posted up. A line was drawn from the elder Hammer to the word CONTROL in a circle and a line went from the Cowl’s picture to MASTERS OF EVIL, also circled. Other lines progressed from there, listing some potential operatives each had employed.

“This looks impressive so far,” said Zemo.

“We still have far to go, Baron,” said Chen.

“I understand. I hope my interruption is not too disruptive?”

The two behemoths shook their head.

Zemo sat in a chair at one end of the conference table. Papers were scattered all over and both Blonsky and Chen had laptops open in front of them. The Abominaton’s in particular was specifically designed by the Fixer with Blonsky’s inhuman hands in mind.

“I wanted your assessment of Jack O’Lantern,” said Zemo as he steepled his fingers together. “Dr. Chen, could you start with the negatives?”

“The obvious one is his bigotry. He’s a white supremacist, which poses difficulty were he to take orders from a minority in the field,” said Chen. “It makes him short-sighted and susceptible to manipulation. He’s also a narcissist—he underrates his opponents while having an unhealthy confidence in his own abilities. Which, as we saw with Gill’s attack on him, could have disastrous consequences. And now with the departure of Melissa and the death of Abe, Levins is really our only operative capable of flight. This has only increased his overconfidence.”

“Emil, the positives?” asked Zemo.

“He may not be a standout operative, but he is capable,” said Blonsky. “He’s managed to carry his weight and he’s participated in several successful missions. And we shouldn’t take for granted that he did work for the Red Skull. That’s not a man who takes failure lightly. Had Levins not been more than capable, we wouldn’t even be discussing him as I have no doubt the Skull would have given him to Crossbones or Mother Night to play with. If given the proper motivation, I believe Levins could be quite effective.”

“I’ve just dispatched him on a job with Mentallo and the Fixer. Both as a test of his own abilities and as a way of supplying the proper motivation,” said Zemo. “I’ve noticed some increased arrogance as of late, and as a way to combat that, I plan on adding a few more select recruits to our roster. Ones that will show some of these operatives such as Levins that they are very replaceable.”

“Kasady is still a wild card,” said Blonsky.

“Bullseye has grown a bit lazy now that he’s receiving a salary,” said Chen.

“These are things that will be addressed shortly,” said Zemo as he rose from the chair. “I will let you get back to work now. I look forward to reading your findings.”

The Mojave

“Finding it hard to believe there’s some sort of bunker underneath this crap shack,” said the Jack O’Lantern as he flew around the dilapidated building.

“Really?” asked Mentallo. “I thought all you rednecks believed in that New World Order bullshit about hidden bunkers and FEMA camps.”

Jack O’Lantern flashed his middle finger in response.

“Make no mistake, it’s here,” said the Fixer. He approached the entrance and raised his arm. His gauntlet made a pfft sound and what appeared to be a cloud blew forth against the outer door. It quickly vanished once it struck the surface.

“The hell was that?” asked Jack O’Lantern.

“Nano-machines,” said the Fixer. “Should work against Clendenon’s security.”

He opened the door and entered the structure. The scanner over his eye pinpointed the entrance to the underground bunker. The Fixer motioned for his teammates to follow. He stopped in the middle of the room and held his arms out for Mentallo and Jack O’Lantern to stop as well. The Fixer raised his gauntlet in front of his chest and a small holographic display appeared. With his free hand, he entered a few commands on the holographic keyboard that appeared. The display vanished and there was a whir of machinery. The ground rumbled a little and the section of the floor they were standing on lowered.

“The nano-machines will have hobbled Clendenon’s armor just slightly, so he won’t be able to send out any signals for help. And in these close quarters, he won’t be able to maneuver that well, so as long as we close the door behind us, he won’t escape.”

“If you could do all that, then why not just shut down his armor completely?” asked Jack O’Lantern.

“Because that would prove how amazing I am, which we already know,” said the Fixer. “The question is how good are you?”

The platform came to a stop in a large, metal-lined room several feet beneath the surface. They stepped off and with Fixer’s tech-pack, he was able to raise the platform up again, sealing the only escape.

“So where is he?” asked Jack O’Lantern.

“He’s coming,” said Mentallo. “In fact, he should be right here.”

Clendenon rocketed through the corridor, clad in his Harrier armor. His gauntlets fired off a volley of energy blasts. Jack O’Lantern was caught momentarily off-guard, but moved quickly on the defense, weaving through the blasts on his glider.

{Damn, Clendenon was a few seconds late,} said Mentallo through a psychic message to the Fixer. {I hoped for my warning to come after he already blew off Levins’ head.}

{Just do your job, Flumm.} The Fixer concentrated on breaking past the defenses on Harrier’s network with his tech-pack. Several strong firewalls, but nothing Ebersol was incapable of handling.

{You’re not as much fun as you used to be, Norbie.}

{And don’t call me that.}

{Exactly my point.} Mentallo turned his psychic abilities on Harrier. Clendenon’s suit, as sophisticated as it was, provided no defense against a telepath. This allowed Mentallo to easily slip inside while Harrier was engaged in combat with Jack O’Lantern. He was able to quickly locate the information Zemo wanted extracted from Clendenon’s mind.

Once that job was done, Mentallo concentrated on the second part of the assignment, one Zemo had kept secret from even the Fixer. All the Thunderbolts were equipped with some measure of psychic defense courtesy of the Fixer’s technology. However, that technology accounts for the potential need for Flumm to telepathically communicate with his teammates in the field. And more than that, Zemo intentionally weakened Levins’ own implant before this mission.

This allowed Mentallo to slip into the Jack O’Lantern’s mind with some degree of effort. And inside, the life and times of Steven Mark Levins played out for Mentallo like a movie in rapid motion. He watched as a young Levins took to racism in the south purely as a defense mechanism—it was easier to steer the attention of bullies to minorities to avoid beatings. And as Levins grew, becoming stronger and more athletic, he found it very easy to warm to the idea of being part of a master race—genetically superior and destined for greater things.

It was through Blackwing that Levins came into the employ of the Red Skull, and the Nazi became a personal hero for Levins. The Skull’s theories on the master race strengthened Levins’ convictions, validating his own hatred and proving those who believed differently were simply willfully ignorant.

The loss of the Red Skull appeared to be quite a troubling occurrence for Levins. It was his reason for latching onto another powerful and charismatic leader in the form of Baron Zemo. Levins had believed, given Zemo’s family history, that Helmut would be a worthy successor to the Skull’s legacy, perfectly able to fill that void in Levins’ life.

Flumm found that particularly interesting, and it apparently sparked confusion in Levins’ mind. Why would a man of the master race promote a “gook” like Chen Lu to one of his chief lieutenants? Why would he tolerate the presence of a “fag” like Flumm? And then there was the matter of that “stinking commie,” Blonsky.

Mentallo took note of all these things and more, extremely anxious to see Zemo’s reaction to Jack O’Lantern’s thoughts.

At first, Jack O’Lantern stayed on the defensive, evading Harrier’s weapons systems. In his head, he could hear the voice of the Red Skull, pushing him forward, ever more to greatness.

You are part of a master race, Herr Levins. You must never forget your place above the swine of the Earth. This monkey is no match for one such as yourself.

It gave him some measure of confidence, but that confidence quickly waned for Levins. He attempted to hurl several batwings, which were quickly deflected by Harrier’s energy blasts. And then he could hear another voice in his head, a mocking tone accompanied by the image of Crossbones.

Ya gotta be shittin’ me. You tellin’ me you can’t take out one uppity negro? Hell’s wrong with you, Levins?

And another voice, this one belonging to Mother Night. He’s a failure, that’s all he ever was. That’s all he’ll ever be.

“I’m not…” muttered Jack O’Lantern. “I’m not a failure.”

Then prove your worth! Prove yourself to your Fuhrer!

The Jack O’Lantern changed tactics from evasion to confrontation. He began a series of short, quick lunges on his glider that made it difficult for Harrier’s targeting systems to lock on to. Several projectiles missed their marks completely and Jack O’Lantern spiraled around, maneuvering himself above Clendenon and delivering a series of pumpkin bombs before rocketing back towards safety.

Harrier’s armor took the brunt of the damage, but not without a cost. His targeting system appeared damaged now, and he couldn’t lock on with the accuracy he needed, forcing him to rely more on his own eyes.

Jack O’Lantern came in for another volley, this time drawing out some special bombs the Fixer developed for him. The first delivered a localized short-range EMP that temporarily disabled Harrier’s armor. The second released a burst of nano-machines that began to eat away at the suit.

Harrier was down and Jack O’Lantern drew a conventional pumpkin bomb. He raised it in the air, prepared to deliver the killing strike, and threw. Before the bomb could reach its mark, it was shot in the air where its small explosion harmed no one.

“What the hell?” demanded Jack O’Lantern.

An energy blaster attached to the Fixer’s tech-pack had a small plume of smoke emitting from the barrel. “This isn’t a hit job.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Think for a minute, would you, Levins? I know that’s a lot to ask, but please try,” said the Fixer. “Clendenon’s buddies with Hawkeye. Barton’s the whole reason he reformed.”

“So?”

“So Barton and Zemo parted on amicable terms. Last thing we need is for Barton to come after us because we killed his friend.”

“Or the rest of the Avengers for that matter,” said Mentallo.

“Exactly.”

“He’s seen our faces. His security captured us on film. He already knows we were here. You think he’s not gonna tell Hawkeye?” asked Jack O’Lantern.

“No, he’s not,” said Mentallo. “I’ve already erased all memory of this encounter from his memory.”

“And the cameras?”

“Taken care of,” said the Fixer. “As far as anyone’s concerned, we were never here. Let’s not make more of a mess than we have to.”

Castle Zemo

Bullseye stretched out on the leather couch, dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt. His head was shaved bald and on his forehead was the symbol that served as his namesake carved into the skin. He sipped a bottle of Sam Adams, his other hand flipping through the stations on a remote control. The Fixer had managed to rig quite a sophisticated transmission system and they could get satellite signals even in their dimensional limbo.

The massive form of the Radioactive Man stepped into the room and stood in front of the television. Bullseye tried to peer around him but with no luck. He sat up on the couch and took another sip from the bottle.

“Hey Jolly Green, you mind steppin’ outta the way?”

“We have a job,” said the Radioactive Man.

“Well bully for you,” said Bullseye. “I’m tryin’ to watch UFC.”

The Radioactive Man shrugged. “That’s all well and good. I’ll simply explain to the Baron that you didn’t feel your assignment was important. Tiger Shark and I will go alone to meet the new assassin who’s caught the Baron’s eye.”

Chen Lu moved past Bullseye towards the door. “Hold on.” Bullseye stood. “What assassin?”

“Someone whom the Baron think could be quite useful to our operation,” said the Radioactive Man.

“Why’s he need another hitman? He’s already got the best on his payroll.”

The Radioactive Man cocked his head slightly to the side. “Does he? That’s interesting.”

“An’ what’s that supposed to mean?” asked Bullseye.

“Nothing at all. But if you’re so curious, then perhaps you should ask the Baron yourself if you feel he owes you answers,” said Radioactive Man. “Or you could quit flapping your lips, suit up and meet us in the briefing room in ten minutes.”

Bullseye turned off the set and left the room, moving right past Chen Lu’s massive form.

The Mojave

Donald Clendenon awoke on the ground, his head still groggy. He slowly sat up, reaching a hand for his head. “Uhhh…thought I quit tequila…”

Clendenon looked down at his body and saw he was in his armor. More than that, it was badly damaged. It would take him months to repair. He removed what was left of the armor and stumbled to the computer banks. Clendenon practically fell in the chair and checked his system records.

Nothing. The past few hours had been completely erased from the surveillance tapes. Clendenon glanced around the bunker and there were definitely signs that a battle took place in here.

“So question is who was here and what did they want?”

NEXT: Back in Black