Castle Zemo

Baron Zemo nodded approvingly as he reviewed the dossiers prepared by two of his lieutenants, the Radioactive Man and the Abomination. When he finished a dossier, he passed it to the Fixer for his approval. He too, had a look of acceptance on his face.

“Very well done,” said the Baron. The two green behemoths who sat across from Zemo showed no apparent reaction to their leader’s praise. “Provided the Cowl hasn’t recruited any further operatives, I believe this gives us an accurate account of the Masters’ numbers.”

“So I take it we’re putting Hammer on pause while we go after his daughter?” asked the Fixer.

“Justin Hammer’s standing is weak at the moment, to strike at him now would both grant Justine more time to further consolidate power and would also be far too easy,” said Zemo. “Hammer must be allowed to fall into a false sense of security.”

“How do we proceed?” asked the Abomination.

“We shall prep our team with the information compiled by Dr. Chen and yourself,” said Zemo. “Meanwhile, I have another matter I wish to discuss. A private buyer is awaiting an imminent shipment of some valuable technology.”

“A robbery?” asked the Radioactive Man. “Forgive me for saying so, but isn’t that a little…beneath us?”

Zemo smiled beneath his cowl. “Under most circumstances, yes. But I speak not of monetary value, Doctor. You see, the company behind this shipment is none other than Roxxon.”

“My source has revealed to me that Roxxon has gotten their hands on two items of no small significance.” Justine Hammer was clad in the red cloak and bodysuit, but the crimson cowl she derived her name from rested around her neck. “These items will especially be of interest to the both of you.”

Ulysses Klaw and Pete Petruski exchanged glances. “What would these items be?” asked the Trapster.

“The Metalloid and the Null-Bands,” said Justine. “The Metalloid’s a Negative Zone robot—”

“Yeah, I remember that thing,” said the Trapster. “Back when I was running with the Frightful Four and that Brute character.”

Justine nodded. “The Null-Bands were created by the Red Star Oil Company and are capable of releasing negative energy. My source tells me Roxxon is taking every precaution with security, but there are other, more formidable parties who might be interested.”

“Zemo?” asked Klaw.

“I’m not sure who specifically it might be, but Zemo is certainly a possibility,” said Justine.

“…and once I have the logistics of that operation fully mapped out, we can reconvene on that topic.” Justin Hammer sat behind his desk. “For now, however, we have some logistics to go over.”

Tarantula and the Sandman were both seated in front of Hammer’s desk. “What’s that mean, boss?” asked the Sandman.

“Our ranks, Marko. They’re far too thin,” said Hammer. “Especially in comparison to our competition. But I aim to change that, and I would like the two of you to assist me in a recruitment.”

“Who do you plan on recruiting, sir?” asked Tarantula.

 “A few months ago, there was a minor breakout at the Raft which resulted in the escape of three prisoners. One was Nuke, the other was this new, red Hulk. And the third…” Hammer paused and smiled. “…is a potential ally.”

Mt. Charteris

“Why do we have to waste our time with him?” asked Frank Hall. He hovered upside down in the former Thunderbolt base. The corridor he was in was adjacent to a bathroom where his newfound partner lounged in a bubble bath.

Karla Soften sighed. “Because Franklin, my dear, we’re outmatched.”

Frank scoffed. “Please. The two of us combined could probably destroy the planet.”

Karla rolled her eyes. As usual, Hall’s delusions of grandeur were preventing him from seeing the big picture. Of course, it was those same delusions that made him so easy to manipulate. Annoying though it might be, she couldn’t find much cause to complain.

“Think, Franklin. We may be safe at the moment, but how long will that last? Zemo will come for us—to tie up the loose end that I represent, to get back the moonstone you took from him, and to claim his vengeance on your head. And from what you’ve told me, he’s got the beginnings of an army,” said Karla. “We need someone who can counter the Thunderbolts’ strength.”

She thought for a moment, running down possibilities in her mind. The Red Skull hadn’t been seen since the Avengers defeated him. Doom was too sanctimonious to deal with, and too clever for her charms to have any effect. Magneto had a country of mutants but his allegiances were always unpredictable—one week he’s a hero, the next a villain.

Then, a thought occurred to her. “Franklin, how many men did you say Strucker had working for him?”

Hall shrugged. “A dozen or so? Why?”

Karla smiled. Hall shook his head. “No, don’t think so.”

“And why not?”

“Because I walked out on Strucker’s group during the raid on the castle. He’s not exactly very forgiving about deserters. He’ll never go for it.”

Karla shifted slightly in the bath, draping her long legs over the edge of the tub. “Trust me, Franklin. Convincing Wolfgang to enter into an alliance is the easy part. The hard part is finding him.”

Hall stared at her legs, his eyes crawling up her flesh. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask…”

She grinned. “That’s the spirit. Now be a dear and prepare some dinner. I’d like to have a few minutes to myself.”

Hall nodded. He righted himself and landed, walking off to the kitchen area. Once he left, Karla climbed out of the bath and dried herself off, making sure to quickly don her robe before the moron found a reason to come back.

CRESCENDO

Part I

By Steve Seinberg and Dino Pollard

Castle Zemo

In the common room, Bullseye and the Jack O’Lantern sat on the couch, engrossed in a marathon of Breaking Bad. Mentallo and Lady Mastermind sat in loveseats near the couch, directly across from each other. Their eyes were focused on the TV as well, but unlike their teammates, they paid zero attention to the show.

{We’ve got a new development, Marvin,} said Regan through the telepathic link they shared.

{And what might that be?} asked Flumm. {Is Arliss getting ready to make his move soon?}

{No, nothing new on that front.}

Flumm had referred to the little fact that Tiger Shark had been communicating with the Crimson Cowl for some time and a defection was likely in the works.

{We’ve got another possible defection,} said Regan. {Kasady.}

{Oh, that.}

{Wait, you knew?} asked Regan.

{Oh honey, of course,} said Flumm, the corner of his lips rising in a slight smile. {But it’s good to have some confirmation. And it shows your skills are improving. That symbiote of his can be a pretty effective buffer against telepathy.}

{Should we do anything with this information?} asked Regan.

{Let’s give Arliss some room to breathe. He could be a potential ally later on down the road,} said Flumm. {But Kasady? That little psychopath is nothing more than a rabid dog. He’d kill his grandmother out of boredom.}

{Funny you should mention it, I think he did just that.}

{See my point? No, Kasady’s useless to us.} Flumm paused for a moment and his hand went up to his hair-covered chin. {Unless…}

{What?} asked Regan.

{I think I’ve got an idea.}

After sending several thousand volts through his victim, the Killer Shrike pulled his electrified talon from the body. He wiped off the blood on the victim’s shirt. “That’s the last of mine. How are you doing?”

Blacklash pulled on one of his whips. The end had been wrapped around the neck of his opponent and that neck broke with ease. Blacklash saw the final target trying to run from the exit. “Oh no you don’t.” He extended his free arm and a whip shot out of his gauntlet. Snapping it, the whip came down, cleaving right through the victim’s skull.

“All done over here.” Blacklash set up a device on the wall, and once he pushed a button, a light on it turned green. “Y’know, it’s too bad the Taskmaster wasn’t here, huh? Could’ve used a workout.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” said Killer Shrike. He was setting an explosive device as well. “Last bit of fun I had was humiliating that freak with the alien skin.”

“For me it was Bullseye,” said Blacklash. “Guy went down like a bitch.”

“How’d he get a rep like that anyway?”

“Don’t get me started, man,” said Blacklash. “Way I see it, if you keep getting your ass kicked by a dude in red spandex who fights with a little stick, it’s time to hang up your mask, y’know?”

Killer Shrike laughed as the two men exited the compound. This was one of the many facilities set up by the Taskmaster to train criminals for employ in organizations like Hydra or AIM.

“Here’s what I don’t get. Why would a guy like the Taskmaster, who’s got this really high-payin’ racket already established, willingly become Hammer’s bitch?” asked Blacklash.

“Didn’t you work for Hammer?” asked Killer Shrike.

“Well yeah, but I’m just a gun for hire. The Taskmaster, though, he’s got it all himself—infrastructure, clients, workforce, why scum for Hammer?”

Killer Shrike shrugged. “Guess Hammer just added enough zeros to the paycheck. It’s no secret that the Taskmaster loves money. Maybe he just got tired of the bureaucratic side.”

“Guess so.” Once they got a fair bit of distance from the compound, the two men turned. Blacklash activated the detonator and the facility went up in flames. “So, whaddaya think about the T-Bolts?”

“Well, you got a good rep so there’s something. And Zemo and his inner circle seem to have their shit together,” said Killer Shrike. “But the others…half of ‘em seem like they’re ready to stab each other in the back and the other half are fallin’ over themselves.”

“So why join?”

The Killer Shrike grinned. “What can I say? I like a challenge. Plus, being on the run twenty-four/seven can get tiring. How about you?”

“The same,” said Blacklash. “I dunno, guess I’ve always been the right kinda stupid who prizes relief from boredom and impatience over common sense.”

“Looks like you made the right decision then.”

Castle Zemo

“…now as far as the status of that project goes, is there an update?” Zemo asked the question of the Fixer, who nodded.

“Almost got it licked, boss. Just give me another day or two and it’ll be ready.”

“Well done,” said Zemo. “In that case, we should—”

The meeting was interrupted by a knock at the door followed by the voice of Flumm. “Sorry to disturb you, Baron. But there’s something you should probably hear.”

“Enter.”

At Zemo’s command, Flumm opened the office door and walked in. Zemo rose from his seat. “I believe we can now conclude our meeting. Thank you for your time, gentlemen.”

Both the Radioactive Man and Abomination left without another word. Mentallo made himself at home, sitting in Zemo’s chair as the Baron and the Fixer exchanged a few hushed words.

“You mind, Norbie? I got something to discuss with the boss,” said Mentallo.

The Fixer crossed his arms in defiance. “Think I’ll stay.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“If your information is of any significance, Ebersol will hear it eventually,” said Zemo. “You may proceed, Flumm. Provided you remove yourself from my chair.”

Mentallo snickered. “I was just keeping it warm for you, Baron.” He stood and leaned against the wall.

“So spit it out, Flumm. Because if this is about Project Runway, I’ll reconfigure the satellites to specifically block that damn show,” said the Fixer.

“You know, Norbie, why do we always have to play these games?” asked Mentallo. “Everyone knows that all this animosity you have towards me is just because you wanna blow me.”

“Oh yeah, blowing you is something I’d love to do, Flumm. Only I think we’ve got different definitions for that word,” said the Fixer.

“Gentlemen, need I remind you both that you are supposed to be professionals?” asked Zemo. “Mentallo, if you have information to share, please share it.”

“It’s about Carnage,” said Mentallo. “He’s planning to jump ship.”

“You scanned his mind?” asked Zemo. Mentallo nodded.

“Smells like bullshit to me, Baron. The symbiote’s resistant to telepathy,” said the Fixer.

“Get a dictionary, Tolkien—resistant doesn’t mean immune,” said Mentallo. “Yes, the symbiote does interfere with my powers, but a few nuggets slip out from time to time. Especially if it breaks up his usual routine.”

“How so?” asked Zemo.

“Look, Kasady’s a one-track mind kinda guy, y’know? Something like ninety-eight percent of the time, he’s thinking about wearing some poor sucker’s face as a hat,” said Mentallo. “But when another thought breaks through that monotony, it jolts right to the surface of his thoughts. It’s like burying a body in a shallow grave.” Mentallo groaned after making that reference. “Sorry, this is what being in that twisted fuck’s mind does to you.”

“Continue,” said Zemo.

“Anyway, the thought he’s not burying too well is that he’s plotting an escape. Although ‘plotting’ may be too strong a word. More like his general intent,” said Mentallo. “He’s just waiting for the opportunity—not even the right one, just any opportunity. And he wants to do as much damage as possible on his way out the door. Seems he kind of resents the way everyone refers to missions with him as ‘walking the dog’. So he’s got kind of an itch to butcher every last one of us.”

Zemo and the Fixer exchanged a look. Mentallo took notice of it. “What am I missing here?”

“It’s funny you should mention this to us now…” said the Baron.

To be continued…