Seattle, Washington

In the shadow of the Space Needle, one of the many abandoned warehouses lining the changing, gentrifying neighborhood of the waterfront. A misty fog rolls across Puget Sound, almost hiding the islands dotting the bay. The plaintive bleat of horns can be heard, if one was on the streets, but down below, in the hidden tunnels and catacombs of ‘Old Seattle’ there is deathly silence. Until…

“Clear the way.”

The Radioactive Man issued the directive. Boomerang stepped to the fore, tossing the weapon which was his namesake. A piercing, sonic wail emanated from it, causing the rest of the squad to cringe.

Piledriver, the Eel, Ox and the Unicorn all shuddered at the sound. Even the Radioactive Man flinched slightly, but no movement came from Persuasion, who seemed to be in a trance.

The boomerang flew back into the waiting hand of its owner. “All clear,” said Boomerang with a smirk.

A long, overly lit hallway stood before the Masters of Evil, littered with unconscious and dead men and women dressed in the bulky yellow uniform of Advanced Idea Mechanics. Radioactive Man looked dismayed at the senseless loss of life, but he knew his agenda. He turned to his team.

“Fan out. Eliminate all opposition. Our prize is close, so find it.”

Chen Lu watched his teammates execute his command. Piledriver was the most merciless of the bunch, beating senseless anything that came within range of his massive fists. Unicorn with his uni-beam, the Eel with his electric discharges and Ox with his own significant strength utilized a bit more finesse than their teammate. The AIM techs were hardly warriors and fell with ease.

Persuasion stood by the Radioactive Man’s side, awaiting her orders. Lu allowed himself a moment to contemplate on the former hero’s behavior. He surmised that the Crimson Cowl must have done a number on the young woman, turning her docile and rather simple-minded, eager to please. The Radioactive Man also allowed himself a slight shudder at the thought of how some of his colleagues would take advantage of that aspect.

An explosion interrupted his thoughts and he looked ahead to see Ox flat on the floor, his body smoldering. While Unicorn and the Eel continued their assault on AIM techs, Piledriver was engaged in battle with a man wearing an exo-skeleton. That wasn’t what truly caught Radioactive Man’s attention. Instead it was the large, blobbish shadow that floated through the smoke and debris. A massive head with almost humorously small arms and legs. Arguably AIM’s greatest achievement, the Mental Organism Designed Only for Killing, or MODOK. A bright light emitted from its brow, knocking the Eel unconscious.

“Tell Zemo he has failed,” said MODOK, turning his gaze to Radioactive Man. “I have failsafes against the likes of you and other petty thieves.”

“The Zemo I knew is long dead and I have yet to meet his heir. Instead, I serve another.” Radioactive Man looked to Persuasion and MODOK gasped as Kara Kilgrave took possession of his mind.

“You misunderstand,” the Radioactive Man continued. “We’re not here to steal your creations—you are our prize, MODOK.”

THE GATHERING STORM

Part V: Players and Pawns

By Curtis Fernlund and Dino Pollard

Stormfront-1

Baron Helmut Zemo stood in a room filled with modifier chairs stretching out seemingly to infinity. His hands clasped behind his back, he smirked beneath his mask and luxuriated in a plan that, to date, had worked out quite well. Many of the chairs were occupied with villains captured by the Thunderbolts.

“All goes well,” he said, leaning over and speaking the words to a comatose Vulture.

“Don’t get cocky, Helmut,” said Moonstone. “We’ve been here before. There’s always a margin for error, always the unseen.”

“Oh ye of little faith, Doctor Sofen. I have planned for every contingency. There are circumstances that even you are not aware of,” he said. “Trust me.”

“Your jocularity is overwhelming,” said Moonstone.

“Regardless,” Zemo began, turning away from his prisoners. “Soon the world will bend for the better. My dreams rise towards fruition, a grand scale that few can perceive. If not for his own narrow-minded vision, my father would be proud.”

Erik Josten awoke with a start. His spacious quarters were pitch black, as well as cool and comfortable. Still, he found his body drenched with sweat. He shifted, peering into the darkness uneasily and realized he was not alone. Lying beside him and sleeping peacefully, naked as the day she was born, was Dallas Riordan.

He knew something was wrong with this picture. Even though they had been an item for a time, they had never consummated. Dallas was far more prim and uptight than he, yet suddenly she willingly shared his bed. Not that he had any complaints, but he wondered what suddenly changed. She seemed freer than before, almost wanton, and that worried him.

Atlas fell back into bed and Dallas rolled over, pressing her lean body against his. The things she did… to say the least, it created an experience Erik would not soon forget. But he had his suspicions about this union. Something was definitely off and he retraced the events leading up to now.

After the battle with the Masters, Vantage sustained serious injury courtesy of Bullseye. The Fixer put her through his Ultra Rejuvenator and almost instantly, Dallas was back on her feet, sparring with Zemo. When Erik walked in on them, he was amazed at her progress. One who hadn’t known better would think Dallas experienced no injury…

…and that was it. Something happened to Dallas in the time between Erik left her in the infirmary and when he saw her sparring with Zemo. And Erik could almost feel Zemo’s hand immersed in the situation.

The Fixer adjusted the machinery to accommodate the large size of MODOK. The man once called George Tarleton didn’t quite fit into the apparatus the Fixer constructed, based on original designs by the Secret Empire. It was used to subjugate the various mentalists crucial to Zemo’s plan. Beside MODOK were the Purple Man, Persuasion, and Mentallo. Other recent acquisitions held captive were Sean Watanabe, an ex-Navy SEAL called Brass; Regan Wyngarde, one of the late Mastermind’s daughters; an Indian mystic named Topaz; Alexi Garnoff, a former Soviet Super Soldier called Blind Faith; and a young man named Terrence Ward.

“We must expedite our plans.”

The engrossed Fixer, focused so much on his work, jumped at the sound of Zemo’s voice. “Christ don’t do that!” He used his techpac to monitor his heart rate and reduce it to normal levels. “And what do you mean expedite? You’ve gotta be kidding.”

Zemo didn’t look at the Fixer, instead stared off into space. “I sense… something.” He couldn’t explain these new feelings. Something related to his heritage and his father’s vision of the world… Hitler’s vision… “We must proceed.”

“You’re the boss, hoss,” said the Fixer.

“How long?” asked Zemo.

Ebersol shrugged. “Three hours. Five if you want it done right.”

“Make it so.”

Zemo strode off as the Fixer brought out his Waldos to complete the project within the new timeframe.

From the shadows, Songbird watched Zemo stride off. She felt alone. Diamondback hadn’t contacted her in days and Melissa wondered if something had happened to the woman. She didn’t know what was wrong, but she suspected Zemo was up to his old tricks once again and if that was the case, he had to be stopped.

Once Zemo vanished into an elevator, Songbird moved from her vantage point. She had to see inside that room, maybe it would give her a hint. Carefully, she edged closer to the door and chanced a look inside. With the Fixer’s back to her, she got a good look. She noticed the villains strapped to the Behavior Modification Chairs and the mentalists trapped in suspended animation.

Something nagged at the back of her memory. She had to reach Diamondback, and soon.

Manhattan

“We need to take down Zemo.”

Hawkeye stood before his assembled team, whom he called the Redeemers. The CSA had a similar program in the past, which included former Thunderbolts Jolt and the late Charcoal. Clint Barton scanned his recruits: Harrier, Amazon, the Man-Wolf, Diamondback and Clint’s two last-minute additions, the Falcon and MACH-IV.

Hawkeye foresaw the need for additional help and if Captain America wasn’t available, the Falcon was a great substitute, being his former partner. As far as MACH-IV went, he a former Thunderbolt, like Hawkeye, and had just as much reason to see Zemo fall.

“Some of you know the facts,” said Hawkeye. “The Masters of Evil have been reorganized under the Crimson Cowl, with a big boost in recruiting. Except Justine Hammer is still in prison, which means we’ve got someone else under that red hood. Meanwhile, Zemo and his T-Bolts have remained off the radar until recently and now that these new Masters appear, Zemo’s there, too. A squad of Masters tried to steal some nuclear warheads and the T-Bolts gave them a beating—and kept the warheads for themselves.

“Much as I hate to admit it, Zemo’s brilliant and when he’s got a plan, it’s a layered one. I’ll bet my bow that all of this is related to him in some way and that what we’ve seen is only the tip of the iceberg.”

“Except last I heard, Zemo reformed,” said MACH-IV. “Remember Hawk? I was there. You gave him the T-Bolts.”

“That’s bullshit!” said Hawkeye. “I didn’t give Zemo a damn thing! I let the T-Bolts choose! That’s one thing nobody else ever gave ’em—a choice! And… maybe I was wrong to do it. I trust them, but not Zemo. He may say he’s reformed, he might have everyone fooled, but I know better. His father was a Nazi scumbag and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Zemo still wants to rule the world—whether with an iron fist or a velvet glove. An’ I’m not gonna let that happen!”

“I just want to make sure we’re sure that we’re actually fighting the bad guy,” said MACH-IV. “I’ve wasted too much time being jerked around by others, including you, Hawk. Or did you forget about how you tricked the T-Bolts into following you with a false promise of pardons?”

“I did what I had to do,” said Hawkeye. “And now you gotta do the same. All of you. I made a mistake when I gave Zemo a second chance, and that’s a mistake I’m gonna correct, even if I gotta do it alone.”

“You already know my answer,” said Diamondback. “My friends are missing, I saw Zemo take the warheads with my own two eyes, and I haven’t heard from my contact. I’m positive Zemo’s up to no good and that he’s somehow connected to the Masters, which is why I’m in.”

“If Cap was available, I’m sure he’d want Zemo taken down just as much as anyone, and I agree,” said Falcon. “I’ve gone up against Zemo in the past and I want to see him behind bars.”

“You can count on me, too,” said the Man-Wolf. “I’m a hero after all, right?”

“You changed my life, Hawkeye—I gotta see this all the way through,” said Harrier.

“I’m in under the condition you allow me to disappear once this is over,” said Amazon.

“Done,” said Hawkeye. “That just leaves one.”

The Redeemers looked at MACH-IV. Abe sighed and removed his helmet. “Letting Zemo go was as much my fault as it was yours. And I let Melissa slip through my fingers. After she’s come so far, I’m not gonna let Zemo drag her back into that life. Count me in.”

“You’re a good man, Abe,” said Hawkeye.

“Now it’s time to prove it,” said MACH-IV.

“Okay, let’s save the Kodak moments for later,” said Harrier. “We’re all with you, Hawk. But how we gonna do this?”

“We hit Zemo hard and we hit him where it hurts.”

The new, deep voice spoke with a thick German accent. Hawkeye stood as the Redeemers (save for Amazon) gasped at the new arrival. The man appeared middle aged, but appearances can be deceiving. He was dressed in a dark green suit and on his lapel was a round pin. In the center of the pin was a skull with tentacles. His right hand was replaced with a crimson prosthetic and his head was hairless. A monocle adorned his right eye and his face was covered with scars.

“Strucker? Hawkeye, are you out of your mind?” asked the Falcon, the anger in his voice unmistakable.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” said Hawkeye. He kept repeating those words to himself over and over in his head. He both hoped and was worried that he might believe them.

Karla Sofen doffed the cowl and leaned back in her chair. Oddly, she was far more tired than usual. The Moonstones usually compensated, but she felt pain building at the base of her skull, her temples and neck. Recognizing the classic signs, her self-diagnosis went right to stress.

She dispatched seven groups of villains, each under the guise of the Masters of Evil, rallying them around her banner. Some were under Zemo’s subtle control, some weren’t. There was money and equipment to be taken, for Zemo’s vast and demanding plans.

Her chambers were dark, save for the glow of the monitors. Each of them displayed one of the dispatched teams, each of them incorporated into Zemo’s grand scheme. One team broke into CrossTech, seeking certain radiological samples. Another engaged in a simple bank robbery for easy money in New Jersey, away from the prying eyes of marvels. A third team invaded a military base in Connecticut to kidnap a soldier with high marks on a psychological test.

There were many things Moonstone prided herself on, but none higher than her ability to know how people think. But Helmut Zemo was always several steps ahead of her. She doubted his intentions were dedicated to the betterment of humanity. At least in the long run. Zemo’s plan would put him on top, first and foremost. And despite his supposed ideals, everything else came second.

Zemo craved power, just like her. He simply hid it better. Luckily, Moonstone had plans of her own…

Georgia

Blackheath watched silently as Will O’ The Wisp futilely tried to skate beyond the Thunderbolt’s influence. If Blackheath were still capable of finding humor in the situation, he would have laughed. He watched as the meat shifted, at first trying to get away. Instead, Will O’ The Wisp turned to attack.

A wall of vegetation rose up, controlled by the being once called Samuel Smithers. The wall crashed against Will O’ The Wisp like a tidal wave. Blackheath retracted the vegetation, looking down at the unconscious meat. He did not smile.

“I have another,” he said and in seconds, the body vanished. Zemo had priorities, and Blackheath was fine with that. The Green would win out in the end.

Stormfront-1

Zemo watched the flashing lights and diodes, the machinery humming seemingly for his pleasure. All was well, all went according to plan and schedule. With the possible exception of the Fixer, the Thunderbolts were all duped. Zemo knew Ebersol’s loyalty, and he proved to be a useful tool for the Baron.

Sofen, however, remained his greatest concern. Her Moonstones made her an x-factor. Regardless of how much he plotted for every contingency, he could never anticipate Moonstone’s actions. He hoped he had prepared sufficiently, but he learned long ago that fate could easily throw his best-laid plans into disarray.

“Got it,” said Ebersol, striding into the room. He wiped his hands with a soiled rag. “MODOK was a bitch, but I got ‘im online. Thunderbirds are a go.”

“Excellent,” said Zemo. He slid his saber in and out of the scabbard with a click. “Implement.”