Littleton, Kansas

A tear in time and space opened up in the sleepy, southern town. Four individuals emerge from the portal, only a portion of Baron Zemo’s Thunderbolts. Moonstone hovered at the lead of the group with Songbird bringing up the rear, held aloft by her sonic wings. Atlas and Vantage stood side-by-side on the ground.

Melissa briefly went over the recent events in her mind. Zemo and the Fixer had been strangely absent as of late, Moonstone as well suffered frequent absences, sometimes days at a time. Blackheath seemed unreliable for quite some time ever since his transformation and Melissa had no idea what to make of him. More than that, she was surprised by the renewed relationship between Atlas and Vantage.

And then there was the matter of the nuclear warheads Moonstone had teleported to a “safe location” following a skirmish with the Masters of Evil. If there had been any additional discussion of those weapons, Melissa had not been privy to it. The Masters themselves have been strangely organized with an untold number of villains in their ranks and rumors of a new Crimson Cowl at the helm.

Her thoughts further drifted to Hawkeye and MACH-IV. Abe had chosen to return to prison to repent for his crimes, yet now he was back in a new suit of armor and both he and Harrier had joined up with Hawkeye’s new team of heroes called the Redeemers. Melissa learned long ago not to believe in coincidences, so she finds it hard to believe all these events occuring simultaneously aren’t somehow connected.

But more than ever, she found difficulty making those connections. As a former leader of the Thunderbolts, she had conviction and assertiveness which seemed gone these days. Concentration came increasingly harder but she couldn’t figure out why.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a scream. As she turned towards the source, Atlas shot up to thirty feet, towering over not only his teammates, but also the small buildings of Littleton. Electricity arced over his massive frame and Songbird turned on her wings, flying towards him and leaving a burst of sound in her wake. She saw Vantage motionless on the ground as Atlas flailed around from the static discharge.

Songbird’s eyes scanned the area, ignoring the fleeing bystanders before her eyes found Atlas’ assailant–a man dressed in silver chainmail and purple armor plates. A full helm concealed his face and in each hand he wielded a sword. Songbird tried to find Moonstone, but their field commander was strangely absent from the field.

Songbird dove towards her enemy, creating a battering ram of solid sound. The armored man nimbly dodged the ram, leaping over it. His speed exceeded her own, and she knew this would cause difficulty.

“Do you really think you can defeat the Swordsman that easily?” he asked.

“I thought the Swordsman was dead,” said Songbird.

“He still is,” said the Swordsman. “I’m the new and improved model.” He thrust forward, slamming his blades together and pointing them at Songbird. A heat ray fired from the flawless metal, which Songbird swiftly avoided. The blast struck a building behind her, setting it aflame.

Songbird swooped around, preparing for another pass but noticed something that the Swordsman hadn’t. She smiled as the massive Atlas slammed his foot down near the Swordsman, creating shockwaves that caused the enemy to stumble. Songbird dove faster, creating a sonic drill to pierce the street that created more shockwaves, flattening her opponent.

As Melissa came closer, the Swordsman looked up at her, shaking his head. A massive shadow fell over the armored man as Atlas readied himself for the killing blow. Before he brought his fist down, a voice rang out inside all their heads.

“I AM ZEMO!”

He played them all for fools.

Zemo sent the Thunderbolts away on this pointless mission to retrieve an alien artifact in Kansas. Just as he was prepared to implement his master plan. And Moonstone went along with it but made herself scarce when the Swordsman attacked. She knew what was coming the instance she heard his voice in her head and had adjusted to compensate for his subtle control.

She knew that even now the unrest and anger that had been gripping the world was being replaced with a hope based upon a misplaced devotion in Zemo. She knew that the gathered mentalists had been a key in his plans, but she had to admit that she had not considered the full scope of his scheme. She could only imagine the full fruits of his labors, an army of mind-controlled and altered villains at his beck and call, and a populace so torn by civil unrest that they might cast aside their doubts in his dubious past and follow him blindly…

Like the sheep that they were…

She reclined and relaxed in her ‘Unspace’, an area between dimensions that she had discovered through the combined might of her Moonstones. It was the area where she had secreted the nuclear warheads; all armed and ready to explode upon her slightest whim. It was the place where she disappeared to of late, to think and consider, and more importantly, to plan.

She cast her gaze about the chamber that she had constructed. It was small and functional; four walls with few amenities beyond a chair and refreshment. Most importantly were the areas set aside to view the world as she reclined…

She saw the Thunderbolts as well as the Swordsman lose their will and initiative as Zemo’s influence washed over them all. They went slack along with everyone else in the desolate wastes of Kansas. She had known for some time that Zemo had replaced their sigils, their Thunderbolt insignias with a newer version laced with a single hair taken from Kilgrave the Purple Man. The Thunderbolts were even more imbedded within Zemo’s schemes than the populace of the once free world.

In another view she saw Hawkeye and his Redeemers as they battled an arrant arm of her own Masters of Evil. Zemo had ordered the Masters out en force, and she as the Crimson Cowl had complied. Hawkeye had gathered an impressive group, and they had easily routed the assemblage of Thunderball, Cyclone, Rhino and Man-Ape, little realizing that that team was simply a distraction to cause confusion and fear like all the others. She saw them all go just as stiff when Zemo made his announcement. All save the Man-Wolf that is…

Karla Sofen watched and considered…

Baron Zemo crumpled a slip of paper as he walked from the General Assembly Chamber of the United Nations. Awaiting his approach were General Bruschov and the Fixer, who held a cigarette between his lips. Once Zemo came to them, Ebersol dropped his cigarette and crushed it beneath his heel.

“Well?” he asked with a conceited smirk.

“The formalities are over,” said Zemo. “The United Nations have agreed to my plan, all save America, oddly. Still, that is easily rectified with a visit to the White House. Contact Stormfront-1 and have Moonstone deploy the lackeys.”

Zemo strolled towards the doors but stopped at the sound of the Fixer clearing his throat. “What?”

“Moonstone’s off the radar,” said the Fixer, glancing at Brushov. “She vanished in Kansas.”

“Surely this is not a problem?” asked Brushov, looking uneasily between the two men. “After all, she is just a woman.”

Ebersol chuckled. “Gotta love that Cold War mentality.”

“No problem, General,” said the Baron, ignoring the Fixer’s comment. He planned for Moonstone’s betrayal and she would be dealt with shortly.

As would America.

THE GATHERING STORM

Part VII: Brave New World

By Curtis Fernlund and Dino Pollard

New Jersey

Samuel Smithers luxuriated in the Green.

Granted it was in Pine Barrens in New Jersey,  but it was still the Green and he felt at peace.

The world beyond had changed. The hatred and devastation had stopped. The rape of the world had ceased, at least for the time being. He sensed nothing but peace beyond that world. Zemo had been accurate in that.

He had been dubious, having little faith in the meat and his goals for Utopia, but apparently he was one of those few that did not lie. Smithers relaxed, feeling his link with the world and its vegetation. It would not take so long to recreate the Barrens into a garden of earthly delights, his own abode there in the wilds. The Green would return at his call, and then he would move on.

Blackheath and his reveries were interrupted as something unsettling joins his area of tranquility. His eyes wandered slowly, adjusting to the aberration that appears before him, ugly and apart from the Green. He recognized the ‘meat’, though it was beyond that simplicity. His eyes tried to focus on the abortion…

“Moonstone,” he whispered, staring at the woman hovering before him.

“Hello, Smithers,” she said, lowering but not touching the earth, hovering there. “I see you are well.”

“I am,” he replied, his essence eking out into the earth, prepared for assault. “Why have you come here?”

“Because I need you Samuel,” Moonstone smiled. “Zemo has overstepped his bounds and needs to be reminded of his true place. You shall aid me.”

Smithers considered, hearing the pleas of the Green as he contemplated her words. Zemo had been truthful, but somewhere in the back of his mind he recalled that the man had his own goals that did not include the Green. Still…

“I sense your own duplicity. You are little better than Zemo with your ultimate goals. The Meat always choose to dominate. The Green endures.”

“Of course,” Moonstone said, “but I am more than meat, Samuel. I am ascended. I am beyond even the Green.”

Blackheath stared at Moonstone, his eyes almost watering as he absorbs her words and being. There is a brilliance beyond the mundane, and he knows that she is right.

“Very well,” he said finally, relinquishing his routes in order to travel. “The Green shall join in your quest.”

Moonstone smiled and together they vanished.

Central Park
Manhattan

Man-Wolf charged through the foliage of Central Park. Since the others became different, he had been on his own and hiding, striking out when needed, hunting for food and water and living off the land in the largest area of forest within the stone and steel of Manhattan. He remembered vaguely the archer and his allies, the others–Redeemers–that he had been a part of briefly, until they had changed, fallen to the strangeness in the air. There had been a voice that sounded wrong and confusing, and he had ignored its call while the others had fallen victim. They had gone away, leaving him behind and alone.

He had headed to the green of the park. He had remembered the solitude and sanctuary there, and sought it out. He had lived off the land for days now, scavenging, killing mice and rats and other things that roamed the brush. He had seen the people, the masses of the city blindly wandering but he had driven back the primal urges to taste of their blood. Something in the back of his mind still screamed that that was wrong.

The anger was gone though, and that was good. It had been replaced by a complacence however, a dulling trill that made his baser instincts soft, and that was bad. John Jameson struggled for dominance within the form of the Man-Wolf, the Moon Gem at his throat almost burning his skin…

As the reason appears before him.

“John Jameson,” Moonstone said as she hovers before him. She did not touch the earth, and his hackles rose as he sensed the pure evil within, emanating from her form. “The world has changed for the worst, and you are needed. I have sensed your affinity, and would have you by my side.”

Jameson snarled, his claws digging into the dirt as he readied to defend, or attack.

“Zemo has played us all for fools. He has altered the world for his pleasure. We must stop him.”

Man-Wolf paused, hunkering as he considered. He knew that something was wrong, but the animal in him would not let him think that far ahead. He sensed the tension in the way things work. Too, he feels the confusion in the gem embedded in his throat; partially from the change in the world, but more so from the emanations of the woman before him. He feels connected to her somehow, and that is what allows his animal instincts to finally decide.

“Yes…” he snarled, and together they disappeared.

Manhattan

The world was at peace. It was a strange sensation, but Hawkeye ignored his misgivings as he directed his ‘crew’ to clean up the debris left behind in the most recent battle between the Thing and the Hulk. He is thankful that no such confrontation will ever take place again–under Zemo’s rule–and hoped too that both heroes would eventually be found and helped.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he noted that the Avengers and the Fantastic Four had vanished. Not that they are needed in Utopia as the Redeemers and Thunderbolts and the former villains have all well in hand, but it bothered him like an itch that he could not scratch. He cannot imagine Captain America absent in the midst of the new regime, the better world, setting things right. The rest of the Avengers were about; Hercules and Wonder Man and Tigra off in California and settling unrest. The Wacko’s doing all that they can to make the world a better place. Even Thor altering the weather patterns for the better…

“Hey, arrow head!”

Hawkeye turned to see Amazon hefting a mass of debris, the garbage dumpster that would be her goal full to the brim. “Where ya want this stuff?”

Midtown had been devastated in the last few days as the Hulk and Thing had waded through the streets with no concern. They had dealt with that–his Redeemers and oddly a compliment of villains; Speed Demon, Boomerang, Asp and Black Mamba as well as others. It was strange, yet right, working with villains. But they all knew that the outcome was in question. The world was teetering on the brink and they all had to come together. And now the world was at peace.

“Start a pile,” Hawkeye said to Amazon, pointing off to the side. “We’ll start on the new dumpsters when they arrive.” He awaited Amazon’s confirmation, turning his attention then to the others in his group. MACH-IV and Harrier were taking debris to the river. Diamondback and Falcon were helping the populace, treating souls and helping them to adjust along with agents of SHIELD. Even the mutants were helping out. It was amazing…

“Avenger!”

There was a brief bubbling of irritation in Clint Barton’s psyche as he turned to the voice. The term ‘Avenger’ annoyed him for some reason. He saw the Radioactive Man, his human body covered by a strangely beautiful green glow, hefting a huge piece of mechanical equipment as though it were a bag of groceries. “Stilt Man says there’s a problem cross town, at the UN.”

Hawkeye stared at Chen Lu, watching as the scientist dropped the defunct machinery aside, awaiting orders. There was something wrong, but…

Hawkeye looks to MACH-IV and Harrier, busy blasting away at the debris. Amazon was shoving at rubble strewn about the street. Falcon was helping the Agents of SHIELD and the displaced…

“I’ll go.”

Hawkeye adjusted his quiver and checked the resiliency of his bow. Then he started walking east…

Manhattan, New York,
42nd Street just short of the FDR…

Moonstone appeared in the courtyard before the UN Building, Man-Wolf and Blackheath flanking her on each side. The former immediately runs off to mark the territory while the latter hunkers down, settling his ‘roots’ into the earth. Moonstone surveyed the scene…

She saw people about, milling and ignorant. Not a problem. She shall set them, right. The United Nations seemed a gathering for the inferiors. There were hundreds awaiting guidance…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden stab of paint. She looked down to see an arrow jutting from her shoulder. Hawkeye, obviously, never knowing when to quit.

Karla Sofen plucked the arrow from her flesh and snapped it in a fist, casting the two halves aside as she searched for the archer. She spied him with another arrow poised to fire.

“You–”

The second arrow struck where the first hit, imbedding in her shoulder. She looked at the new shaft with the same sense of disbelief as the first. She heard a snarl as the Man-Wolf rushed forward, but she waved her hand.

“No,” she whispered, glancing at Smithers. Blackheath grinned…

The ground at Hawkeye’s feet erupted and grass grew to gargantuan proportions, wrapping about the Avenger and binding him beyond the ability to draw another arrow. The Green would claim him now.

“We must end this.” Moonstone gestured and the air above the UN ripples. In a second, a dozen nuclear warheads appeared, hovering over the United Nations Plaza. Karla Sofen sighed…

“Zemo,” she said, staring at the wide eyes that are looking back at her. “Time to talk.”

And the world shifted…

Washington, DC

“This don’t look good,”

The Baron Helmut Zemo afforded a glance to the side to look at Norbert Ebersol in his hysteria. The Fixer stared at the small screen of a Sony Watchman that he converted to display all read-outs of the current change. Zemo questioned his actions, as the world and the internet were attuned to the Blackberry, but Ebersol had been adamant saying that the simpler device was more open to adjustment. Zemo had shrugged.

Now he questioned…

“What?”

“Hawkeye’s battling Moonstone at the UN. She’s got Smithers and Man-Wolf with her. Barton don’t stand a chance.”

“Does it matter?” Zemo glanced at Ebersol who shrugged.

“I guess not.”

The world had changed at his whim. Zemo was in control of 99% of the free world, with only the President of the United States resisting–though why he did not know. The current fool in charge was hardly mentally resistant. He should have knuckled under and submitted with the rest of the world. It was absurd.

“Remove the doors.”

Zemo watched as the Abomination tore the doors to the White House asunder.

“Stand guard,” Zemo stepped forward into the glorious halls, heading deeper into the home of the man who thought that he ruled the Free World. He approached the Oval Office, Ebersol at his right and the worst and strongest at his back; Hyde, the Wrecker, Rhino, Creel and Titania. He cringed as his compliment destroyed the age-old furniture in passing, without a care. It could be replaced, but it was depressing to say the least.

Finally he stood before the last obstacle; the doors to the Oval Office. Zemo reached out…

“Stop!”

Zemo glanced back and saw Moonstone appear in the outer hall. With her were Blackheath and Man-Wolf, as well as Hawkeye looking all too confused.

“You’re too late, Doctor Sofen,” said Zemo. “Beyond these doors is the last resistance. The fate of the free World, and your efforts are wasted.”

Zemo gestured to his guard. The Absorbing Man launched the opening salvo, hurling his wrecking ball towards the quartet. Moonstone, Hawkeye and Man-Wolf leapt away but Blackheath stood his ground, allowing the ball to plow through his wooden body, reducing it to splinters.

“Haw!” said Creel with a cackle. “Y’ always were useless, Smithers. Should’a put you outta yer misery long ago.”

Creel failed to notice the remnants of Smithers that splattered on his body. The foliage began to spread, slowly covering his body. The Absorbing Man began to feel the vines enveloping his body and a head emerged from the leaves over his shoulder, forming into the face of Blackheath. Slowly, the vines continued to cover Creel, crawling into his mouth and nostrils, down his throat.

“Get off him!” cried Titania, tearing Blackheath from her husband’s body. The distraction was enough for Creel to pull free, gasping for breath. The Man-Wolf slashed at Titania’s back, drawing blood and allowing his newfound ally to break free.

Hawkeye somersaulted over the superhuman villains who charged at him. Behemoths like the Abomination, Mr. Hyde, the Rhino and the Wrecker all rushed the former Avenger. The archer pulled arrow after arrow, launching the weapons with explosive heads to try and slow down the monstrous team Zemo assembled for his personal guard. There was only one Hawkeye had interest in, perhaps the most dangerous of the bunch.

As he tried to approach the Oval Office, Hawkeye noticed, however, that Moonstone simply hovered, not engaging any of the combatants, her energy field glowing brightly. When the strongmen ran towards her, a bright flash of light enveloped the room and when it faded, they lay sprawled on the ground and she was gone.

The Oval Office

Baron Zemo strode into the Oval Office with an arrogant gait of entitlement. The President turned his chair, remaining seated. He too, had that same presence as Zemo, extremely pronounced that it took even Zemo aback.

“Baron…” said the President.

“Your time is done,” Zemo said, staring at the man situated behind the desk. “I am in control.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware…”

“I will lead this nation, and the world to better days. Simply renounce your authority as so many other nations have. I shall be magnanimous.”

“I don’t think so.”

Zemo blinked, totally taken aback by the President’s resistance. He stares at the man.

“Oh, shit,” the Fixer said as he stared at the power reading calculated by his handheld module. “I got a bad feeling about–”

The President raised his hand and Ebersol fell silent.

“Please. Do not sully the moment with cliches. The good Baron deserves better.”

With another wave of his hand, Zemo could see through the open doors that his guard as well as Hawkeye, Man-Wolf and Blackheath all vanish. The President snapped his fingers and Ebersol too vanished, only to be replaced by a very confused Baron Strucker. Zemo too is taken aback by the strange display of power as Strucker blusters and sputters.

“Now then,” the President said as he settled in his chair, behind his desk in the Oval Office, motioning his guests to silence. “What is your grievance?”

Zemo stares at the man, a simplistic little human with no power whatsoever, yet seemed to have brought him to a dead stop. The man controlled the greatest nation in the world, yet he was merely mundane; useless and a cog in the greater things in life. People listen to him, and Zemo could not understand why.

“Come on, Son,” the President said with impatience. “Speak up. I don’t have all day.”

“I–” Zemo said, suddenly at a loss for words. The President shook his head.

“So much potential, and you fritter it away. Your father is spinning in his grave, boy.”

The room shimmered and changed, and Zemo’s eyes grew wide in astonishment. Where the President of the United States stood there is now another. Dressed in German military garb, complete with an iron cross. A cigarette holder perched between his fingers. Above his free hand hovered a cube that glowed with a bright, powerful presence, pulsating with energy. His head was red and completely devoid of any skin.

The Red Skull.

“Impossible…” said Zemo.

“This world is mine,” said the Skull.

Zemo cursed, realizing that there is always one more contingency…

And the world falls away…

To be continued in the Fourth Reich event!