An Uncharted Island
The English Channel
1944 A.D.

“Look out, Axis – here we come!”

The two figures fell from the sky like angels from upon high, their descent slowed down by the billowing parachutes exploding from the packs across their backs. The older man – though that in itself was a sad truth, as he was only late into his twenties – said nothing through his gritted teeth. It was the younger of the two, the grinning teenager, who had sounded that battle cry while his finger tightened across the trigger of his Browning M1919 machine gun, hefted by a surprising musculature beneath the red and blue uniform.

The German soldiers that stood sentry on the castle's parapets scattered as the boy unleashed Hell from the muzzle of his gun, shell casings flying into the air behind him as he and his partner dropped into the hot zone. The belt of shells shortened with each burst of steel-jacketed death, uncoiling from around the boy's chest. That was the only problem with the Browning – the ammo went like apple pie at a neighborhood bake sale, way too damn fast. But that was okay, the boy thought as he narrowed his eyes and sprayed the Nazi occupiers with American justice, the two Colt M1911A1 pistols tucked into his belt would keep him safe.

The older man, who was floating down at a slower pace than his young ally, had no firearms to speak of on his person; a personal choice for one said to be a “living symbol of liberty”. He had a weapon, this much was true, but it rarely took a life. It was a shield painted with the colors of his country, and no bullet could punch through its metal.

“Kapitan Amerikaner!” one of the Germans shouted as he aimed his rifle into the air. He died a moment later, transformed by the Browning's 600 rounds per minute into a bloody smear on the wall behind him.

The spinning of the Browning's empty turret coincided with the disappearance of the last of the ammo belt across the boy's shoulder just as he spun the weapon around to halt the arrival of another phalanx of guards, three in total. He dropped the artillery rifle like a stone, and the absence of the gun's weight caused the parachute to jerk back into the sky, allowing him to narrowly miss the whizzing bullets first fired from the Germans' rifles. He didn't bother to reach for his Colts as his weight leveled out back into a steady descent – his partner had his back.

“Stand down!” the older of the duo commanded as he pulled the painted shield off his arm and hefted in an outstretched hand. With the chemically enhanced strength in his muscles, the Sentinel of Liberty tossed the shield like a discus directly at the trio of Nazis, the realization of who was falling down on them having caused hesitation and fear to halt their barrage.

“Kommen sie herunter! Jetzt!” one of the guards shouted to his comrades as he dove for the stone floor. The shield sailed over him and collided first into the jaw of the second guard before ricocheting off into the face of the third, knocking both unconscious in two furious spurts of blood.

The first guard, the smartest of the three, jumped back to his feet and took aim at the defenseless American with his rifle, taking careful moments to ensure a kill shot. He failed to notice the shield bouncing off the far wall of the castle's parapet behind him, returning inevitably to its master's hand. The shield struck the guard at the base of his skull, snapping his spine with a wet crunch and sending him to the ground in a twitching heap. After a few more precise ricochets, the shield was caught in the firm grip of its owner as he lightly touched down on the rooftop. He secured the shield firmly back across his arm as his partner drifted down behind him, his twin pistols pulled and at the ready.

“So far so good, eh?” James “Bucky” Barnes commented with a wry smile, his eyes hidden by the domino mask affixed to his face.

Captain America failed to return the smile as he glanced back at the boy. “Cocky and careless are two words that can get you killed, Bucky,” he commented, “You know that full well.”

“Fury and the Howlers are a good six hours from the LZ, Steve,” Barnes stated, the smirk wiped from his face, “and we've lost our element of surprise.”

“He knew we'd be here anyway,” the Captain replied, “so let's not keep Baron Zemo waiting…”

Marvel 2000 Proudly Presents...

# 4 - "Timeslide - 1944: On Ice"
Written by Chris Munn

“Did anyone else hear gunfire just then?”

The question posed by Barbara Barton, the Avenger also known as Mockingbird, went unanswered by her collection of teammates. While her head was turned to the sky, trying to make out the distant goings-on in the castle laying in wait for them across the island, the rest of the Avengers were gathered around a man that they had every reason to mistrust but yet had no choice but to follow.

“I assure you, Avengers,” the blind seer named Libra reiterated, “going back for Major Vance Astro is an impossibility at this point.”

“That's not good enough!” Dane Whitman, the armored Black Knight, shouted as he grabbed Libra by his robe, slamming the older man into the nearest tree. “Astro was our teammate, and I'll be damned if we simply leave him to die!”

“The Major made his choice,” Libra replied, lifted off his feet by the taller Knight, “and the rules of engagement are clear in this matter. If one of your number falls along the way then his replacement will be recruited at the first available moment. The longer you rage against this, the more time will be spent away from your mission.”

“Let him go, Whitman,” the leader of the rag-tag group of Avengers, Yellowjacket, ordered with a hand placed on the chain-mail shoulder of his teammate, “he's right in at least one aspect: we don't have time for this. Besides, if Astro got aced on our first jaunt it doesn't seem like he was cut out for the plan in the first place, huh?”

The Black Knight turned his helmet to peer over his shoulder. The rest of his teammates – Mr. Immortal, Arcana, Mockingbird, and the Vision – all remained silent, none of them coming to his defense. “Very well,” he acquiesced while dropping Libra to his feet, “but don't think this won't be addressed when next we meet with Immortus.”

“As I was saying,” Libra began as he moved into the center of the group, “we are currently on an uncharted island in the English Channel, circa 1944. Your newest recruit will be found in the castle spied in the distance, on the opposite side of the island, and it is paramount that he be added to your number within the span of the next eight hours.”

“Eight hour deadline?” Mockingbird repeated. “Surely it won't take that long to pick this guy up?”

“Back up, Moxie,” Mr. Immortal interrupted, “don't you realize what we've just landed in the middle of? This is the day that Captain America fell into the ice – into suspended animation – while his sidekick Bucky was killed by Baron Zemo! We're in the middle of a hugely important historical event!”

“You are absolutely correct, Mr. Hollis,” Libra remarked, “and each of you need to keep that detail fresh in your minds. Your presence here must not alter the events as they have been recorded…you intervene only to procure the Captain as your next Avenger. Otherwise you will all be a party to the very same actions we are trying to prevent Kang from accomplishing.”

“So in other words,” Luna Maximoff, the mystic Avenger codenamed Arcana, mused, “we can't step in to save Bucky Barnes' life.”

“Mr. Brandt,” the Vision began, addressing Libra, “would it not be more logical to extract Captain America from a less tumultuous era of his life? In this timeline he would not be aware of the Avengers, for they have yet to exist. Nor would he possibly be mentally fit following the death of his partner, and thus robbing us of the asset of his leadership.”

“It is not for you or me to question the nature of the Balance, my synthetic friend,” Libra answered as he walked toward the tree line, away from the Avengers, “we are simply slaves to the cosmic inevitability. God speed, heroes.”

And with that, Gustav Brandt was gone, disappeared back into the time stream with six confused and shell-shocked Avengers left stranded in his wake.

“Well, things certainly could be going better, couldn't they?” Mockingbird quipped, breaking the silence that had squatted over them following Libra's departure.

“Alright gang, listen up,” Henry Pym addressed his fellow heroes, “I don't care if it is Captain America we're picking up, I'm still the leader of this little expedition…”

The statement was met with sighs, groans, and at least one pair of rolling eyes. Yellowjacket continued nonetheless.

“…and if this is 1944 then I'd bet my bottom dollar that Cap's already in Zemo's castle as a prisoner. Anyone care to relate the history lesson for us, just in case we have some questions later?”

“It was on this location in 1944,” the Vision spoke up, recalling his memory with computer-like precision, “that Baron Heinrich Zemo had developed a remote guided drone plane filled with explosives, intended to further the designs of the Nazi regime of Adolph Hitler. Steve Rogers and James Barnes were deployed without back-up to this island and were ultimately captured by Zemo's occupying forces. Following a period of time where the pair were tortured and held in captivity, Rogers and Barnes were able to escape. In response, Zemo launched the explosive drone plane…”

The Avengers each, in turn, lowered their heads. They all knew how the story ended.

“…and the Captain was unable to stop the missile's activation. He and Barnes jumped onto the plane in hopes of dismantling it, but were unsuccessful. The plane exploded prematurely, killing Barnes and throwing an injured Rogers into the icy waters of the English Channel. The combination of the extreme cold and the Super Soldier Serum in his body enabled Rogers to enter a state of suspended animation, in which he remained for decades until his discovery by the founding members of the Avengers.”

“Thanks, Vizh,” said Pym, “so that's the rule. As much as we may want to save him, Bucky has to die today. Whether we pull Cap onto our squad before or after that happens is ultimately up to us to decide.” Yellowjacket smirked and cracked the wad of bubblegum in his mouth. “I personally vote for the former.”

“If I may offer a suggestion,” the Vision interjected, “it would perhaps be prudent for me to search out the Captain on my own, as there would be no barrier to stand in the way of my density-altering abilities. I could find our newest recruit and return before our enemies are aware of our presence.”

Yellowjacket gave a thumbs-up sign and nodded his head enthusiastically. “Great idea, Vizh, you go scout ahead and we'll…wait here…” In truth, Pym's approval of the android's plan had been rendered moot. The Vision had already turned and started his flight toward the nearby castle before the Avengers' “leader” had opened his mouth to speak.

“This group's off to a fantastic start, don't you think?” Mockingbird remarked to Arcana, who stood on Barton's left side. Luna only sighed in reply.

The crimson-gloved fist crashed into the German soldier's jaw, sending him spinning wildly back into the stone wall behind him. He fell in a heap, unconscious, but was quickly lifted off the floor by the same gloved hand clutching the front of his shirt. “This kid looks younger than me,” Bucky remarked softly as he began to unbutton the soldier's shirt, “the Nazis do their brainwashing like pros, huh?”

Captain America frowned at his partner's comment as he straightened the uniform he'd appropriated from a second defeated castle sentry. “Most of these Germans are just doing what they feel they must for their country,” he stated grimly, “the same as you and me. It's their generals – their Hitlers and Zemos – that are responsible for all of this tragedy.”

“It's not that black and white, Steve,” Barnes replied as he removed the domino mask from his face, “following orders only goes so far. If your country asked you to do something morally reprehensible, what would you do?”

The Captain found himself unable to answer.

Sensing the uncomfortable turn that their discussion had taken, Rogers' younger partner adjusted the soldier's cap on his head and swiveled to face his friend. “How do I look?” Bucky asked while striking a salute pose.

The Captain smiled and returned the salute. “Like a soldier, son, no matter what the nationality.”

Fully ensconced in their disguises – and with the former owners of the stolen uniforms tied up and gagged in an unassuming storeroom – the two American heroes made their way through Castle Zemo. Nazi soldiers passed them at every winding turn of the corridor, but both men were fluent in the German language and were thus mistaken by each officer as kinsmen. They searched slowly, methodically, but Rogers' mind wandered back to what they had been told before their drop into enemy territory.

Somehow, Baron Heinrich Zemo had been given access to a fantastic sort of ballistic technology…the sort that would allow him to fire a strategic missile straight into the heart of the Allied forces in Eastern Europe. With notice as short as their chances of success, Captain America and Bucky were sent to the English Channel with two goals, one primary and another secondary.

The primary goal was to destroy the Nazis' super-weapon before it could be fired. The secondary goal was to learn just how and from whom the Germans had acquired such technology in the first place. The apprehension of Baron Zemo, though it would be an added bonus for certain, was a pipe dream at best – the Nazi scientist had proven himself to be as slippery as an eel, always disappearing from locations just as his capture seemed imminent.

“So far so good,” Bucky remarked with a smile thrown back over his shoulder toward his senior partner. The Young Ally turned a corner, his eyes falling behind instead of in front, and thus failed to see the massive hand thrusting toward him until it was grasped around his throat.

“Bucky!” Rogers shouted as he stepped around the corner to find his best friend suspended in mid-air, lifted from his feet by a hulking brute of a man that had latched onto the boy's neck. Captain America hesitated only long enough to take in the odd appearance of the goliath: the orange and purple hues that colored his uniform and flesh, the blank expression on his face save for the twisted downturn of his brow. Even the proportions of the giant seemed out of place, as if his large stature was somehow unnatural.

A full four seconds had passed in this examination, long enough for Bucky Barnes to have begun his choking struggle to retain consciousness as the life was slowly choked out of him. The Captain leapt forward and kicked the freakish man in his breadbasket, then followed up with a counter move at the joint of his elbow. Staggered, the behemoth released his grip on Bucky and dropped the boy into the waiting arms of Captain America. “He'd best be okay, friend,” Steve stated as he spun into a roundhouse kick, finishing off his foe with a heel to his purple-skinned face.

“Bucky, speak up,” Cap pleaded as he sat his unconscious partner onto the stone floor. Thinking his foe to be defeated, he had no time to realize his grave mistake. He turned back around at the last moment to find the giant looming above him…but something had changed.

Had his opponent somehow, impossibly, become bigger?

He had no time to ponder this inexplicable realization before the monster's fist came crashing down on the top of his skull, sending him suddenly into the cold oblivion of unconsciousness.

Five Avengers stood scattered amidst the forest's clearing, each remaining relatively silent since the Vision's departure several long minutes before. Each of them, in their own way, were creatures of action – and the thought of waiting patiently while a teammate risked himself alone was gnawing at their collective thoughts. Finally, it was Mr. Immortal, sitting on the husk of a fallen tree with his chin resting on his propped up hands, who broke the silence.

“Is it just me,” Hollis said aloud, though in truth speaking as much to himself as to his allies, “or does this mission of ours deal more with making sure people die than with saving lives?”

“Not this nonsense again,” the Black Knight remarked as he removed his iron helmet, revealing his sweat-covered face. “This is war , boy, and like all wars before and after it will inevitably deal more with death than with life. If a handful of mutants or a young soldier must fall in order for millions to live, then those are sacrifices I am comfortable with making.”

“Of course you're comfortable,” Hollis answered, “because you're not the one doing the sacrificing. Major Astro was a casualty of our “war”, but I seem to remember you bringing a sword to Libra's throat over him. What makes us better than the people dropping like flies around us?”

“Bah,” the Knight responded, waving his hand dismissively at his fellow Avenger, “what knows an “immortal” of the death of men? You, who so foolishly squander your gift, have no room to talk of sacrifice when you can make no such act yourself.”

“Don't you dare!” Craig shouted, jumping up from his log to stand square with the time-addled Black Knight. “You have no idea what it feels like to know that every single person I love is going to die before my eyes while I continue to live! You say immortality is wasted on someone like me? I agree with you, honestly, because unlike all of these “acceptable casualties of war” you talk about – I actually want to die!”

“What are you trying to say, Craig?” Luna asked, stepping forward to intervene between her two friends if the need arose.

“I'm saying that if I could, and not for lack of trying I assure you,” he answered, his normally bright affect now grimly serious and stone-cold, “I'd have killed myself years ago.”

And as if on cue, Craig Hollis' head exploded across the Black Knight's tunic, spattering the shocked Dane Whitman with blood, skull, and brain-matter. By the time it took Mr. Immortal's body to hit the ground the four remaining Avengers were going to battle positions. Another shot rang out, ricocheting off the Knight's metal helmet, thankfully having just returned to cover his head.

“Sniper!” Mockingbird shouted as she dove toward Arcana, knocking her to the ground moments before another bullet zipped through where the sorceress had previously stood.

“Cowards, come and face us like soldiers!” the Black Knight shouted as he freed his Ebony Blade from its scabbard. In response, the surrounding forest came alive with a battalion of advancing German infantrymen. “Finally,” the Knight smiled beneath his helmet, “time for battle.”

So enamored with the thought of spilling enemy blood, Whitman didn't see the Nazi approaching from behind – pulling the pin from a grenade as he advanced. The resultant explosion hit only a few feet behind the Knight, shockwave and shrapnel knocking him aside like a ragdoll. If not for his chain-mail armor, he would have surely perished.

“Dane's down,” Mockingbird reported as she went back-to-back with Arcana, her eyes darting around the small battlefield while the enemy encircled them, “and believe it or not, Yellowjacket is nowhere to be seen. Can't you, like, magic these guys into frogs or something?”

“Doesn't work that way,” Luna replied, “And I don't think any of my spells could take out all of these guys without one of us getting shot first.”

“Don't you say it,” Bobbie mumbled through closed eyes and clinched teeth.

The ratchet sound of a dozen plus rifles being cocked, each gun leveled only feet away from the surrounded women, made their decision for them. “We surrender,” Arcana declared as she raised her hands into the air. Reluctantly, Mockingbird followed through with the same gesture.

The women were quickly bound, hands behind their backs, and started on a march toward the castle. Mockingbird watched as the Germans gathered up the unconscious Black Knight, and kicked at Mr. Immortal's body to ensure he was deceased. They were leaving his body in the clearing, she realized – though now that meant their rescue would be in the hands of an Avenger that she, at least, felt to be fairly useless. That, however, wasn't the foremost thought on her mind as the Nazis marched them into the forest.

Where the hell was Henry Pym?

Baron Heinrich Zemo scratched at the fabric covering his face, the mask adhered to his face causing an unbearable itch to creep its way across his ruined features. Staring through the bars of the castle's dungeon room at the unconscious Captain America , the Baron snarled in contempt. Finally, after years of suffering, the man responsible for the destruction of his face was at his mercy. Why, then, was the Baron so unhappy with this victory?

It was due to the man truly responsible for the Captain's imprisonment, the nameless individual that had supplied the Baron with the technology so far advanced from anything even his brilliant mind had been able to conceive. This stranger stood behind the Baron, cloaked in the shadows of the torch-lit crypt, like a parent watching over his bumbling child. “Tell me again, my friend,” Zemo said through his thick German accent, “why I cannot simply shoot this man now while he is helpless?”

“As I have explained,” the unknown benefactor repeated, “this Captain America has a glorious destiny ahead of him, but only if all of the pieces of predestination are aligned carefully and correctly. He must live to witness the launch of your drone plane, Baron, and I promise that by allowing him to do so you will have a greater vengeance than you could even imagine.”

“You speak of this mongrel with such reverence,” Zemo replied, “what is he to you?”

The stranger laughed softly. “He is something rare indeed…a worthy opponent.”

“And what of these other masked men and women?” Zemo asked, turning his gaze to the similarly unconscious Avengers captured and bound by his soldiers.

“They are a curiosity,” the stranger answered, “a familiar group of “heroes” that should not be here. I desire the answer to the riddle of their presence on this island, for we may have a secret enemy that would mark even the mighty Captain America as a mere pawn among bishops.”

“Then I will leave you to your quest for answers,” the Baron stated as he turned away and walked toward the stairs that ascended out of the dungeon, “while I prepare for my fuehrer's conquest. Heil Hitler…”

The shadowy stranger did not return the mantra as he watched Zemo depart. He turned his gaze back toward the Avengers, some only now stirring to slow consciousness. His enemy had shown his hand too early, he decided with a wicked smile across his lips, and now his plans and manipulations would all be for naught. The stranger stepped backward, deeper into the shadows…and disappeared.

Craig Hollis sat up with a start, a scream ripping from his throat as he returned to life as violently as he had died. He clawed his way across the ground, dragging himself through the pools of his own blood and brain-matter that had collected across the grass, frantic in a near mindless state. There was a catch to his immortality, something he would never admit to his peers in the Avengers: every time he resurrected from death, Mr. Immortal lost a vital piece of his own very sanity. He had died many, many times now…and as he brought himself back from the brink of insanity by sheer force of will alone, the terrible thought crossed him.

What if he had already lost his mind, and this was a product of his insanity?

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” he rambled, braced against the nearest tree with his arms wrapped around his legs, rocking to and fro in an upright fetal position. He'd been shot in the head, he'd felt the bullet tearing through his skull and his face exploding across the clearing. Being immortal didn't mean he didn't feel every horrible facet of death, and the unbearable pain was just one more thing tacked on to his rapidly dwindling coherence.

“I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it back this time,” a voice said from beside him, though it was almost too soft to hear. Craig shifted his head to his left, but found no one in the clearing but himself. Not the voices again, he thought.

“Down here, jackass,” the voice advised. Mr. Immortal looked on the ground beside him, where he discovered a man…a man the size of an ant.

“Doctor Pym?” Hollis asked as the diminutive Yellowjacket leapt onto his lap to better converse with his teammate.

“I'm gonna forget you called me that name,” Yellowjacket snarled, “because we've got more important things to think about. Those Nazi bastards abducted Moxie, Luna, and the Knight…and it's up to us to go break them out.”

“How did you avoid being captured?” Hollis asked, his eyebrow cocked suspiciously.

“I shrank down to ant-size with a healthy dose of Pym Particles (though I gotta come up with a better name for those, come to think),” Yellowjacket answered, “since it was obvious we were quickly fighting a losing battle. I figured it wouldn't do us any good for everyone to get taken prisoner, so I shrank and hid until you woke up.”

“And now…?” Mr. Immortal asked.

He awoke in chains, his arms hefted above his head by the shackles holding him to the wall. His muscles ached from the strain on his shoulders and wrists, but the pain helped him focus back on reality as he departed the blissful blanket of unconsciousness. Captain America glanced around the dungeon cell, seeking out his partner.

“Your sidekick's still out,” a woman's voice said, causing Rogers ' eyes to dart to his right side. Two blonde haired women sat on the stone floor, their hands shackled behind their backs with heavy chains. They wore curious garb, masks such as the Captain's teammates in the Invaders. Could these perhaps be a secret division of superhumans held in secret by his country – the woman spoke English without a foreign accent – and sent to aid him?

“Bucky?” the Captain asked, prompting the woman who spoke – the one in the black and white outfit and mask, her bare legs improperly exposed – to point to the far end of the cell. Similarly shackled to the wall in the same manner as his partner, Bucky hung lifelessly. He was still breathing, though, as Cap could see the shallow movement of his chest heaving.

“Who are you people?” Captain America asked, turning his attention back to the women.

“Okay,” the woman that had previously spoken began, “this is going to sound bizarre, but I assure you that I'm on the level. My name's Mockingbird, and I'm from the future.”

Rogers ' eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“In a few decades, Cap,” she continued, “you're going to be an important part of a group called the Avengers. That's we all are,” she pointed to the silent blonde and the armored man slumped prostrate on the floor, “and this hero team has an enemy named Kang. He's a time-traveler that conquers dimensions and rules them as a despot, one of the most dangerous foes the Avengers have ever battled. Seven of us Avengers were plucked from different points in time and gathered together to stop Kang from conquering the universe.”

“Assuming I believe any of this,” the Captain interjected, “why are you here now? Is this ‘Kang' present during World War II?”

“Actually,” the silent woman finally spoke up, “we're here for you, Steve.”

Cap was startled. “You know my name.”

“My name is Luna Maximoff,” the second woman continued, “and everything Mockingbird has told you is true. Were my hands not bound behind my back, I would prove this to you with a feat of sorcery. In our first mission one of our number fell, and we have been instructed to gather you as our newest recruit.”

“I'm sorry,” he said with another glance back to his partner, “but there's a little thing called the War going on right now, and it's been filling up my calendar pretty regularly.”

“You think Hitler's bad, Cap?” Mockingbird argued. “Kang destroys everything in his path with a death-toll that puts this little slap-fight to shame. We need you, man!”

The thundering sound of footfalls on the stone floor quieted the women's pleas. “I think the point is about to become moot, ladies.” Rogers stated as the purple-hued creature that had subdued him and his partner opened up the cell and pointed his hand in the Captain's direction. Noxious gas sprayed from the tips of the monster's fingers, blasting the hero in the face to the point of knocking him out after a rapid inhalation.

“He's taking Cap and Bucky!” Mockingbird said as she began to stand up.

“Sit down, Bobbie,” advised Arcana, who nodded toward the behemoth that was stalking out of the cell with the two young men in his arms, “you couldn't stop that thing. Don't you recognize it?”

“I'm afraid not, hon,” the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent admitted.

“That was a Growing Man…”

“This is stupid,” Mr. Immortal mumbled as he crept through the dimly-lit corridor of Castle Zemo, his normally garish costume covered by the drab military dress of an unconscious and trussed-up sentry, stashed rather curiously in an empty store room that contained two other similarly bound and undressed Germans that had already occupied the room upon his discovery of it. On his shoulder, gripped tightly to the collar of his shirt, rode the diminutive Yellowjacket. “How do you even know where the others are being held?”

The man formerly known as Hank Pym grunted in reply. “You see those little bugs flitting around you?” he asked, pointing out the odd insects that Hollis had, until that moment, failed to notice. “Those are Limbo Bugs, and they've been traveling with us ever since we left Immortus' castle, hiding in everyone's clothes and hair. Just like any other insect, I can control them with the cybernetic interface in my helmet…but these bugs are much more than just bugs. They're charged with chronal energy, and right now they're telling me not only how far away our friends are but how many minutes it will take us to find and rescue them.”

“Time flies,” Craig quipped with a goofy smile.

Yellowjacket glared up at his physically larger partner.

“… time flies, get it?” Mr. Immortal muttered, the pun falling on deaf ears.

“We're getting close,” Pym steered the conversation back on topic, “the holding cells should be right around this corner.”

Hollis and his shrunken team leader made their away around the sharp ninety-degree turn, both feeling that their mission was going to be a rousing success. What they found waiting for them around the corridor's bend was a phalanx of soldiers, their rifles cocked and ready.

“Aw, shit,” Yellowjacket said before leaping off of Hollis' shoulder, his vibrating wings propelling him through the air like his insect namesake. “You hold these guys off, useless…I'll go get the others.”

“Hold them off?” Craig asked in disbelief.

“Just do what you do best,” Pym answered as he weaved through the crowd of advancing armed guards, “die a whole bunch. That should keep them thoroughly entertained.”

Pym continued his flight down the hallway, ignoring the sounds of gunfire and shouting echoing behind him. He slowed his flight of the bumblebee when he approached the cell door, discovering bound and helpless Avengers awaiting him. “Hello, beautiful ladies,” he said as he increased his size back to his original height of six feet just outside the prison door, “your gallant rescuer has arrived!”

“Pym, you arrogant bastard,” Mockingbird shouted, standing up despite the chains holding her down, “where the hell did you disappear to? We could've been killed while you were off playing the coward!”

“Slow down, hot legs,” Yellowjacket answered as he ran fingers across the door's lock, “I held myself in reserve as a strategic move, figuring that having one of us out in the free world instead of all of us locked up in here would be a smart play. Now stand back…” The scientist pointed a gloved finger at the lock and allowed a bolt of bio-electric energy to snap outward, destroying a large chunk of the iron gate along with the lock.

A few moments later, the chains shackling Mockingbird, Arcana, and the just-awakening Black Knight were similarly disabled by Yellowjacket's sting. “Now, all those in favor of keeping me as Chairman raise your right hand,” Henry remarked with a smirk as he helped the Knight to his feet.

“My sword,” Whitman said groggily, “it's not here.”

“They took it before locking us up, Dane,” Luna answered his unspoken question, “possibly to study, or perhaps simply to destroy.”

Dane Whitman furrowed his brow while flexing his outstretched hand. “The Ebony Blade is enchanted,” he informed, “and cannot be destroyed by mortal means. Thusly, it is linked to me, and must return to my hand…” He strained, grunting between words. With a flash of light, the magical Ebony Blade appeared out of thin air, gripped in the Knight's hand. Though mentally and physically exhausted, the Knight stood proud and placed his helmet back atop his head. “Let us let loose the dogs of war.”

The four Avengers ran back down the corridor from which Yellowjacket had flown, each prepared for battle against the collection of soldiers he had previously left the defenseless Mr. Immortal to face. They each stopped in their tracks when they approached the teammate who had just been called “useless” by Pym…Mr. Immortal sat atop a pile of unconscious German bodies, his chin propped up by an arm resting on his knee.

Mr. Immortal beamed at his teammates. “What took you so long?”

Captain America strained against the thick ropes that held him and his partner, Bucky tied against his back, while the two men lay helpless on the ground. He'd been awake for a full five minutes, while Barnes was just starting to come to, and in that time Rogers had yet to give in to the futility of the situation. Standing over them was the monstrous Growing Man, watching as a sentry while its master stood crowing in the open air of the castle's exposed landing strip.

“Finally,” Baron Zemo bellowed, his fists raised shaking in the air, “the Nazi regime shall be victorious against the accursed Western mongrels! In front of you, Captain America , my most hated enemy, I shall launch this drone plane into the heart of London where that bloated bulldog of a Prime Minister shall die in a firestorm of destruction!”

“You're a madman, Zemo,” Rogers interrupted, “and you will not succeed today.”

Zemo laughed before turning toward the controls of the drone plane, a push of a button raising the launching pad into position. “I'd like to see you stop me, Kapitan.”

Captain America strained once more against the ropes across his arms and chest, his eyes closed in a vain hope of success. When he hoped his eyes again in defeat, he looked past the guarding Growing Man, toward the further-most stone wall of the parapet. Cap blinked his eyes rapidly as he stared at the wall, watching it blur and shimmer like a mirage. To his disbelief, a hand emerged silently from the stone, followed by the body and billowing cape of a pale ghost of a man. The white wraith stepped free of the wall, and the symbol of American liberty saw gripped in the stranger's hand a most welcome object.

The ghost was carrying Captain America 's mighty shield!

The unearthly specter floated silently toward the unaware Growing Man, creeping ever closer until – somehow, impossibly – the giant android sensed his enemy's presence. The Growing Man spun on his heels, his great size belying his inhuman speed, but was quickly met a blast of solar energy erupting from the wraith's eyes. The Growing Man fell backwards, stumbling and stunned, but as Growing Men are wont to do the machine found itself doubling in size from the force of the assault.

“Go, Captain,” the Vision said as he turned his solar gaze to burn the ropes holding Rogers and Barnes, “stop Baron Zemo.” The Avenger tossed the shield into the waiting arms of the Captain. “The Growing Man will not stand in your way.”

“This cannot be!” Zemo raged as he witnessed the two heroes rushing toward him. His advisor had been a fool after all, the Baron decided, for having talked him out of killing the hated Captain when he had the chance. “I may have been denied my vengeance,” the Nazi doctor of death swore as he turned back to the control panel in front of him, “but the Reich shall still achieve its victory!”

With a pull of a lever the drone plane's furious engine flared to life, propelling it – slowly, at first – down the airstrip's ramp toward the coast-line ahead. “Cap, that thing's headed for London!” Bucky shouted, but the young man's partner was already a step ahead. Leaping across the seat of a motorcycle resting nearby, Captain America gunned its engine and spun the vehicle in the direction of the escaping missile. As he took off out of the hangar, his partner surprised him by leaping onto the cycle as it zoomed by, barely hanging on in time to straddle the seat behind the heroic driver.

The drone plane, loaded with enough explosives to level London 's Parliament Building to the rubble, began to climb into the air as it approached the end of the runway and open air. Pushing the cycle as hard and as fast as it could travel, Rogers closed the gap by mere inches between them and the escaping doomsday device. “We're too late, Bucky! We have to go after it in another plane!”

“No! Don't stop!” Bucky commanded as he jumped from the bike. “I think I can reach it, Cap!”

Steve Rogers panicked as the plane lifted into the sky with Bucky its passenger. Cap leapt from the bike, kicking off as hard as he could, and only barely managed to grasp onto the wing of the missile. “Bucky – let go! Drop off – before it explodes!”

“You're right, Cap – I can see the fuse!” James Barnes' eyes widened in horror. Captain America lost his breath as his grip slipped from the plane's exterior and he fell back into nothingness. “It's gonna –“

The shockwave of the missile's explosion hit the Captain's free-falling body like a hammer, propelling him even faster toward the open body of water below. “Bucky!” he screamed, tears streaming down his face. “Nooooooo!”

He hit the icy waters of the English Channel , and it felt like slamming into a brick wall at sixty miles an hour. His consciousness was fading quickly as he sank to the ocean's seabed, the darkness advancing around his vision. All he could see was the fiery death of his best friend, replayed a thousand times in his distress before the black overtook him, all in the span of a few drowning breaths.

This was it, Steve Rogers thought.

This was the end.

“Bucky!”

Captain America snapped back into consciousness like a bullet fired from a gun. Attempting to leap to his feet, his weakened body combined with the water on the stone floor, causing him to slip and return hard to his fallen position. He coughed and sputtered, expunging the sea water from his lungs, all while a collection of strange men and women began to huddle around him.

“Cap, it's okay,” a man's voice consoled, followed by a tender hand on his shoulder from the one dressed in black and yellow. Steve looked up from the floor and remembered what the woman in Zemo's cell had told him. These “Avengers” parted the way, shifting to allow the approach of a newcomer.

“Welcome, Captain America , to Limbo,” the robed man greeted with warmth and sincerity, “I am Immortus. It is truly an honor for me.”

“Oh god,” was Rogers' reply as he curled up on the floor of Immortus' throne room, shaking in the fetal position from both the icy depths and the shock of his partner's death.

The Avengers exchanged nervous looks with one another, though all failed notice the faint smile crossing the lips of Immortus.

“Bucky,” Captain America whispered.

The End

Next Issue: We're doing something a little different next month as I take a break and allow my good friend Bowie (Midnight Sons) Sessions to take a turn as guest-writer for one issue only! And where might he be taking our band of Avengers? Let's just say it's one very familiar future. I'll be back writing with issue # 6, but that's no reason to not look forward to Bowie's fantastic story!

Time Out!

Cross-Over.

A word that brings a feeling of dread to most fanfic writers, considering their tendency to screw up schedules and well-laid plans of many a site past and present. The Avengers, too, haven't exactly had a good track record when it comes to cross-overs. "Operation: Galactic Storm" was a success, and "Acts of Vengeance" started strong before falling apart in the home stretch, but the less said about cock-ups like "Disassembled" and "The Crossing" the better. But come this Winter, Marvel 2000 is going to try and buck this trend by doing the site's first line-wide Avengers cross-over. What's it about, you might ask? Steve Crosby, Josh Reynolds, and I think the title of the story spells everything out pretty clearly.

"The Kang/Ultron War".

More info to come as we get closer, but the next handful of issues here in Avengers Immortal will be providing the bridge-work for the cross-over (and look for all of the subtle hints and sign posts in upcoming issues of both Avengers and Avengers West Coast).

On to the letters, and the only one this month comes to us from a Time Out regular, Greg Cruikshank:

Well, it was a bit later than you originally predicted, but Avengers Immortal's newest issue finally revealed itself to us. Now, if only the new issues of Thunderbolts would start magically appearing (luckily, I have Meriades Rai's Supervillain War to tide me over in that regard).

Guess what, Greg? Thunderbolts has returned with all-new issues courtesy of that book's new co-writer and scripter, Steve Crosby! See, I always deliver most of the time!

Firstly, let me just say that this team continues to impress. Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't done more with Mockingbird yet, although I'm sure that's coming. Yellowjacket actually displays a little humanity, which is nice to see, and Mr. Immortal continues to prove his utter pathetic-ness (Avengers Chairman? What the hell was Cap thinking?).

Trust me, both Mockingbird and Mr Immortal will be getting their time in the spotlight sooner than you might think. We got a little look inside Mr. I's head in this issue, and I'm curious as to whether it improved your opinions on him or not.

A little upset Vance Astro is already dead. Mostly cuz I figured we'd get a few more missions before you had one of these guys die. Instead, it's Magnus all over again: one mission, and he's gone. Oh well. At least now we get Cap (or Bucky, or Heinrich Zemo......). And Wolverine vs. the Black Knight. Need I say it? F*** yeah. So once again, kudos for another great issue. Keep 'em comin'!

No one was more upset that Vance Astro had to die than me, and I'm the guy who had to write it! Like the Exiles/Magnus example you cited above, I wanted to show that the dangers these Avengers will be facing are of the life-ending variety of a much higher degree than normal...so, yeah, Major Astro was the sacrificial lamb for the first story-arc. Glad you enjoyed the Black Knight/Wolverine fight, though, and I had a blast showing those mutie-lovers out there that Adamantium ain't shit compared to the Ebony Blade. Thanks for the letter, Greg!

So while next month will be a fill-in issue by a guest-writer, by no means is that an excuse for you all to stop reading - especially when said guest-writer is none other than the uber-talented Bowie Sessions of Midnight Sons fame! I'll be back with next issue's lettercol to answer more of your reader questions and I'll return to the writer's chair with # 6, where we'll be visiting an obscure bit of Marvel history that many readers may not have even heard of.

Anyone remember a little story called "The Kree/Skrull War"?

Also, everyone should take a look at this awesome Avengers Immortal promo piece that Dino Pollard whipped up for the series. Thanks, Dino!

~ Chris Munn
08/01/07