“There’s a storm coming,” she yelled at Captain America, over the noise of the rotors. “I may need to go around, or land farther inland!”

“You know we can’t.” A note was held tight in Captain America’s other hand. Strapped to his back was the shield. It was the note that mattered, that was the reason for those two being out in the New York City sky, flying towards Long Island. “There is a deadline.”

An address was scrawled on the note, along with a precise time and a threat. Recently Captain America had adopted a young girl, named Marie. Earlier that day she’d been taken from school by a man who had looked exactly like Steve Rogers, but Captain America hadn't been at the school. The note had been taped to Steve’s door, discovered after he and Sharon had known Marie was missing. It was she that the threat pertained to.

“We’re almost there Steve,” Sharon informed Captain America. Soon, sprawling mansions appeared on the ground below. Homes to the wealthy and powerful, one of these held Maria.

As per the note’s instructions, it was only the two of them. Sharon’s connections with SHIELD had acquired the helicopter as transport. Neither the military organization nor the Avengers knew of the situation. It was only up to Captain America and Sharon Carter to save Marie from the man who had taken her.

Both knew who the man was. He’d signed the note. J. S. Johann Schmidt, the Red Skull.

“That’s the house,” Captain America yelled as they approached the next of many on the Long Island coast. From the distance, he could see that the roof tiles were discolored; creating a pattern that resembled a swastika. It wasn’t long before they were directly overhead.

“Find a place to land,” Captain America told Sharon. “I’ll check things out.” Then he stepped off the helicopter. Falling forward, Captain America went head-first towards the estate. Both his arms were straightened over his head, or below depending on the perspective. The shield slid along its straps, going from Captain America’s back down his arms and into his hands. Only the shield would separate Captain America from the hard earth.

Impact was reached at an angle, with a great deal of the force absorbed into the Vibranium-based metal that made up Captain America’s shield. His skill and natural ability provided the rest, allowing Captain America to roll as though from a fifteen foot drop rather than fifteen hundred. At the end of the roll, Captain America was crouched on one knee, the shield on only one arm and drawn back to be thrown.

On the way down, exceptional eyes had caught a glimpse of something. Brief as it had been, Captain America recognized the figure, and threw his mighty shield.

At a particular angle, the edge of the shield was as sharp as a sword, capable of cleaving metal with the right force behind it. Captain America’s throw was more than powerful enough for the shield to decapitate a charging Brother Blood. Still higher the shield angled, until it struck the top of the door frame and bounced back into Captain America’s outstretched hand. He caught it at a run, reaching Baron Blood just as his ashes disappeared into nothingness. He was running for the doorway, shield out front, in full expectation of additional obstacles.

Just inside the mansion’s foyer, Captain America caught a glimpse of something large and heavy crashing down towards him. With nimble reflexes, Captain America leapt forward and dodged past the heavy arm. It crashed against the floor, claws leaving behind deep furrows. Rolling onto his feet, Captain America whipped around to see the mammoth Armadillo lumber towards him!

“You don’t want to do this, Antonio,” Captain America cautioned, using the often-times reluctant villain’s real name. “Please, I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Rrraagghhrr!” screamed Armadillo. Massive arms covered in a thick hide swept at Captain America. Large if dull claws raked at his shield, and Captain America knew that he was not facing a man. The Armadillo was now only an animal.

“Fine, if that’s how you want to play it.” Using his smaller and quicker frame to his advantage, Captain America easily avoided a second swipe. Turning his shield to the side, Captain America jabbed it at one of Armadillo’s paws, trapping the shield between two claws. Almost without effort, Captain America shifted his weight, used the shield as a lever.

One of Armadillo’s claws snapped off, while another very nearly did the same. The animal cried out, and came at Captain America as only a wounded animal could. Ducking down, Captain America rolled between Armadillo’s legs. Coming up behind the creature, Captain America slammed his shield against Armadillo’s backside and pushed forward. This, coupled with Armadillo’s own charge, sent the massive shape crashing to the ground.

Captain America took the brief interlude to back away, shield positioned to cover as much of his body as possible. He’d caught a glimpse of Sharon Carter standing in the doorway, her pistol drawn.

“Shoot him in the eye!”

“What?”

“That’s his most vulnerable spot!” Armadillo was getting up. The slow, lumbering thing was turning around. Alone, Captain America could overcome it, but the fight would be long. There just wasn’t time. Sharon had to take the shot.

A sharp crack pierced the air. Hot metal entered Armadillo through his right eye, snapping the head back. Two paces forward moved the beast, and then it collapsed. Instead of the expected crash, Armadillo vanished before hitting the floor, as though it had never existed.

“What was that?” demanded Sharon.

Captain America didn’t face her while speaking. They had to move fast, and he went for the stairs.

“Outside, I decapitated Baron Blood with my shield, and he also vanished. First, I had already decapitated Baron Blood with my shield years ago. Second, his body remained there and solid until I burned it. What I had killed outside wasn’t Baron Blood, wasn’t even real. I was betting the same was true about Armadillo. Though Antonio Rodriguez has made a number of mistakes in his lifetime, he has never been a murderous animal.”

“Not real?” Agent 13 shot a perplexed look Captain America’s way. “What, you mean those are hallucinations we’re fighting?”

“No. That bullet you fired, it had lodged in Armadillo’s skull and fell to the ground when he vanished. They’re solid enough until killed or, I would imagine, otherwise disabled. My guess is that Red Skull managed to acquire another Cosmic Cube.”

They had both gone down the stairs, made their way into the sub-level basement by the time Captain America had finished explaining. After the explanation, he asked the question.

“Tell me about the building.”

Okay, more of a demand than a question. Sharon replied, in any case.

“Built about eight years ago, during the dot-com boom by an Internet billionaire. Like most everybody else, he went bust, and the place was sold to an oil mogul. There wasn’t time to check all the records, but I think it’s same to assume that Red Skull is the real owner.”

“Blueprints?”

“You know we can’t rely on those. The plans submitted and the work actually done may be completely different. Fortunately I have satellite photos beaming directly into my watch. It’s a damned good watch, even if it doesn’t actually tell t-aagh!”

A scream cut off Sharon’s remarks, the result of a knife that had flashed from the shadows to strike her in the upper left arm. Captain America turned around, his shield arm held back.

“Duck!”

Sharon Carter dropped to one knee just before the shield whooshed over her head. Behind her, a white cross with black eyes and mouth caught the blow of the shield. It veered up at the ceiling, bounced off that and towards the ground. Captain America caught it in mid-air, as he was leaping and in mid-turn.

No longer hidden in the shadows was Crossbones, his face concealed by the black and white mask. A shield to the forehead had only stunned his thick skull, but it was enough for Captain America to get the next strike in. He landed at full turnabout, chopping his free left hand with enough force to chip bark off a tree. Crossbones caught the attack on his neck, directly on the crarotid artery.

An instant after Captain America landed on his feet, Crossbones fell hard to the ground. The force wasn’t enough to rupture the artery. He would live, but for a time he wouldn’t be getting up. An immediate threat seen to, Captain America turned back around and went to Sharon. She’d already removed the knife and applied a bandage to stop the bleeding.

“Only a flesh wound,” she told him. “As I was saying, one of the satellites does sonar imaging. There’s another basement under us, extending out to the edge of the property.”

Captain America nodded. “To the beach. There’ll be a launch bay for a submarine. We’ll need to cut off that means of escape.”

“I can make it straight there,” Sharon insisted. “His attention will be focused on you.”

“We’ll need to access the sub-basement first.”

This didn’t prove difficult. One corner didn’t measure right with Sharon’s information, meaning there was a hidden elevator shaft behind the wall. Sharon blew the wall with a small explosive, and the two lovers jumped through the hole. It was a short drop, less than twenty feet to the bottom.

“Uh oh,” gasped Sharon.

“What do you mean ‘uh oh’,” asked Captain America.

“Nothing.” Sharon groped at the walls, quickly found the seam in the elevator doors. “Hurry, get your shield in there and force the door open.”

Captain America obliged her, slowly wedging the shield into the seam. “We’re at the bottom, meaning not on top of the elevator. That means the elevator is on top of us. So, with the press of a button, the Red Skull could lower the elevator and crush us.”

“Could be worse,” remarked Sharon. “If we’d landed on top of the elevator, then he could just send it up and crush us against the ceiling. At least this way we can hurry and get the doors open. So hurry.” “No, that way we could have just cut the cables, forced our way into the elevator and then opened the doors.”

“You want to cut the cables now? We can cut the cables now.”

“Without the cables holding it, the elevator would drop on top of us.”

“Sorry, Steve. I should have called the Red Skull and asked him to pretty please lower the elevator before we broke in, because that would have been more convenient for you.”

No sooner had the words left Sharon’s mouth, then the cables started moving and gears could be heard shifting from up above. Captain America refused to glance up.

“Please tell me the elevator isn’t moving.”

Sharon turned her gaze up. “Yup, the elevator is moving.”

“I asked you to please not tell me that.”

“You should have asked me with pretty please and sugar on top. But if you open the doors before we die I might forgive you.”

“Might?”

“I like sugar.”

“Okay, I’m getting it.” The doors were opening a crack, sending in a faint light. “Hurry up and get your fingers in there.”

“Me? You’re the super-soldier.”

“I’m going to hold the shield in front of your pretty face in case there’s a shooter in the hall. As long as you ask me pretty please with sugar on top, of course.”

“Stevie, pretty please, with sugar on top, would you hold the shield in front of my beautiful Bond-girl face so that a shooter in the hall won’t mar it with a bullet?”

Again, Captain America obliged her, and Sharon began forcing the doors open wider.

“Stevie?”

“What, you prefer I call you Mr. Rogers? Sorry, but this isn’t Thursday night role play.” Sharon managed to get the doors open to just past her shoulders, at which point she stopped. “Okay, I’m drawing my gun and getting out.”

“If you actually did that as you were saying it, I would be on my way out by now.”

“And if you hadn’t been talking,” Sharon retorted as she drew her gun and stepped into the hallway, “I wouldn’t have stayed there listening to you. That is the curse of being Captain America. People will always stop what their doing and listen to you, no matter how extreme the situation is.”

“As of this moment I am now the strong and silent type.”

In making a spectacular leap, Captain America got out of the elevator shaft just in time. The elevator landed with a soft thud. By the time its doors opened, Captain America and Sharon Carter were halfway down the door. Because they weren’t looking back, they didn’t notice the doors had opened. They didn’t notice that three men were inside they elevator.

It wasn’t until two men appeared at the end of the hall and they did a quick turnaround that Captain America and Sharon Carter realize that an additional three men were behind them. Three men were closing in from one end, and two more at the other end. Five men, all wearing red, white and blue, were bearing down on Captain America and Sharon Carter from opposite ends of the hallway.

“So what do you think,” Sharon asked Captain America. “More constructs of the Cosmic Cube, or lackeys wearing your duds?”

“I actually hope it’s the former,” Captain America told her. “Rush the two at the end of the hall. With my help, you should be able to get past them.”

“Sure, like I really need your help.” Sharon ran away from Captain America; ran towards the two men dressed like Captain America. They even had the shields, though Sharon doubted those were as good as the real thing.

When Sharon was close enough to the two, Captain America threw his shield that way, low to the ground. Sharon leaped just before it got to her ankles then jumped again off the shield. This act nudged the shield against the floor, where it bounced up and struck the two Captain America look-alikes. The shield caught both men in the gut, doubling them over as Sharon Carter flipped over them.

As she flipped, Agent 13 of Shield drew two pistols. These were Walther P88, a fully ambidextrous gun that would be held in either hand. Both these guns Sharon Carter fired into the heads of the faux-Caps. They dropped dead to the ground the exact moment she landed on her feet. An instant later they vanished, and she was running out of sight.

So then, thought Captain America, fake. He didn’t approve of what Sharon had just done, but at least now he knew. Against the other three, he wouldn’t hold back.

The shield returned to Captain America’s hand, and he turned around while bringing it to bear. Another discus bounced off of it, thrown by one of the three that had left the elevator. Captain America knew that they weren’t just men dressed in the uniform. No, Red Skull would do better than that. At one time in each of their lives, the men behind those masks had been Captain America.

The two Sharon Carter had made it past were poorly trained, too reliant on their enhanced abilities. Captain America had been that it’d been those two, Johnny Walker and the other Steve Rogers. One was given enhanced strength by the Power Broker, while the other had taken an incomplete super-soldier formula that empowered the body but destroyed the mind. Both men had been erratic in their tenure as Captain America, easy to make mistakes.

Captain America knew that the other three wouldn’t go down as easily. William Naslund and Jeffery Mace had served in costumes during WWII, were respectively known as Spirit of ’76 and Patriot. Ironically, Johnny Walker had once called himself Super-Patriot before the government chose to give him the shield. Naslund had been given the shield after Captain America was presumed dead, so that soldiers wouldn’t lose morale. From what Captain America had heard, Naslund had done a good job up until he was killing defending John F. Kennedy during his first campaign for the Senate. Jeffrey Mace then took up the shield, put on the costume to stop the threat that had killed Naslund. After a few more years Mace retired, and died of natural causes only a few years ago. It was a luxury few men like Captain America were rarely afforded.

Certainly the third man hadn’t been given that chance. An unnamed soldier, his name classified even from Captain America, he’d taken up the shield only because the original had tossed it aside. Captain America had lost faith in his country, and so had taken up the identity of Nomad. The name of Captain America was then in the government’s hands to bestow, and just like so long ago they had given it to the best of their best. Sadly, that man hadn’t been good enough against the Red Skull. It was his death that had compelled Steve Rogers to take up the shield again.

At that moment, Captain America was infuriated that Red Skull would create a caricature of a man he’d killed. Not brought back to life – these weren’t the men who had died for their country. Captain America would destroy those false constructs; remove the insult to great men.

Shield held in front of him, Captain America rushed at the three men. There was no way of knowing who was who, or what specific fighting style belonged to what man. All Captain America knew was that all three were highly trained, more than capable fighters. That none of them had enhanced abilities was less of a disadvantage than one would think.

In such close-quarters fighting, the shield quickly became a liability, balanced out only by the equally awkward shields that the others had. His skill with it gave Captain America an edge though, so he strapped it to his arm and used it to bludgeon. One man had his face crashed against the wall. He vanished so suddenly that Captain America almost fell against that wall. His free hand Captain America used to grab at a shield one was holding horizontally, trying to drive it against his throat. Captain America pushed down, and the opposite edge of that shield snapped up against the man’s jaw. He was staggered, not beaten, but Captain America took the breather to spin away from the wall and the other attacker. Getting caught between two opponents was not a good idea.

However, the second Captain America look-alike had anticipated this, and executed a perfect standing leap to flip over the true Captain America. As this faux Captain’s shield was strapped to his back, both hands were free, and he used these to grab the real Captain’s shield and yank at it. One of Captain America’s fears was coming true, as his arm was now twisting painfully. A kick was driven into his unprotected ribs.

“You killed me,” said the man holding Captain America’s shield. The unnamed soldier, Captain America identified him as.

“I saved your life.” That was Jeffrey Mace, who now had an arm locked around Captain America’s throat and was driving a fist into his kidneys. Captain America was trapped, held down by two imposters and freely beaten. Worse, the Red Skull had them sounding off accusations, to drive the real Captain America off balance with a sense of guilt.

The accusations had an opposing effect.

“No!” Captain America lifted his right leg, locked the unnamed soldier’s leg inside the crook of his knee. With his opponent momentarily off balance, Captain America drove his left arm out and up, delivering an upper-cut into the soldier’s solar plexus with all his weight behind it. This managed to knock the air out of the soldier and caused him to release Captain America’s shield.

With his shield arm free, Captain America drove it back, slamming his elbow into the face of Mace. As he let go and stumbled back, Captain America continued turning, and kicked his right leg into the man’s kneecap. The joint reversed with a sharp splinter. Mace went down in pain.

Having dispatched the threat behind him, Captain America drove his shield arm forward to deal with the soldier. He had recovered and was rushing forward blindly. There was no chance for him to avoid the shield’s edge smashing against his throat. No air could escape the soldier’s crushed windpipe, and so he fell without a sound. Before he had even hit the ground, the soldier had vanished.

Captain America turned around, and saw that Jeffrey Mace had disappeared as well. The crippling effect of a disjointed knee must have served whatever requirements the Red Skull had with his Cosmic Cube.

For a brief moment, Captain America remained where he stood, caught his breath. Then he took off running, ready to face anything else the Red Skull had conjured up.

Methodically and silently, Sharon Carter had traversed the corridors of the Red Skull’s bunker. So intent was she on reaching the submarine bay, she didn’t even stop to consider the lack of obstacles encountered. Even if she had thought about it, Sharon would likely have guessed that the bunker contained few actual guards. That instead the Red Skull was simply using his Cosmic Cube to generate foot-soldiers, former foes of Captain America’s for the specific purpose of harassing the hero.

Unquestioning and oblivious, Sharon Carter reached a large and fortified door, which she knew led into the submarine bay. Next to the door, building into the wall, there was an electronic keypad.

“Oh, that’s clever,” Sharon murmured as she approached the keypad. “The Red Skull is really going to remember an access code when he’s running to escape Steve. On the Heli-Carrier we have card swipes.” Quickly, Sharon managed to remove the cover, exposing the wires around the numbered keys. Reaching into one of her belt pouches, Sharon removed a small rectangular box with two wires leading out of it. At the end of each wire was a connector, which Sharon fixed to the wires of the keypad.

“Of course, I also have a piece of cardboard with magnetic tape on it, so the card swipe wouldn’t have done any good either. A handprint or retinal scanner is out, because hey, your body was cloned from Captain America so he can access them too!”

A small screen on the face of the box flashed, showing a number of zeroes and four altering numbers. Rapidly, each number would become fixed as the computer learned each part of the access code. Soon all four numbers became fixed, and the door began to slide open.

“1, 2, 3, 4.” Sharon rolled her eyes. “How original. The easiest codes are the first ones you forget when under stress. Hunh, and here I thought Red Skull was a ge- whoa!”

On the other side of the door wasn’t the submarine bay that Sharon had been expecting. For one thing there was no water, and no vehicles of any kind. What Sharon saw instead were rows of computer consoles, as well as a massive screen above these. In the center of the room was a large table, covered with an array of papers. Off at the other end of the room, Sharon noticed an ascending staircase, most likely another means to reach the floors above. Standing at the bottom of these stairs, with Captain America’s adopted daughter Maria at his side, was the Red Skull.

“By all means continue, Agent 13.” That sickening red visage of Red Skull’s had the curl of a smile on it. “You were about to call me a genius. A most accurate assessment, when you consider how effortlessly I lured you here.” The Red Skull raised his hand, in which the Cosmic Cube glowed with otherworldly power. “Right about now, Rogers is facing the last and most devastating of my constructs. When he has narrowly triumphed, I shall be there, and at last our eternal combat will end!”

“Not if I don’t shoot you in the head first!” Sharon Carter yelled. The gun was in her hand, the trigger was pulled. A bullet flew. The force-field which surrounded the Red Skull shimmered when the bullet struck. It bounced off, useless. Those disgusting red teeth parted, and the Red Skull laughed.

“Ah, a woman such as you would be a prize among the master race. Perhaps, after Rogers lies dead at my feet, I shall take you; fill you with my enemy’s seed. Such a product would make a worthy heir to my new world.”

“Over my dead body!” Sharon’s words dripped with venom. The Red Skull just continued on.

“Oh, the miracles of science. All I need do is strap you down, extract what I require and place the results into a woman willing to carry my heir.” The Red Skull then raised his other hand, which like the first was gloved. He liked to keep his body covered from the neck down, make everybody wonder if the rest of him was a red skeleton. In actuality it was all whole and strong, a perfect replica of Captain America’s, but it that uncertainly the Red Skull desired. With his free hand, the Red Skull brushed Maria’s hair. “Maybe this one. She is about the right age to bear.”

“Stay away from her!” Sharon screamed. Much as she wanted to rush at the Red Skull, to wrest the Cosmic Cube from his hand and shove it down his throat, she dared not. In the time it would take her to reach him, the Red Skull would be able to snap Maria’s head like a twig.

“But no,” the Red Skull sighed. “She is unsuitable, merely another creation of the Cosmic Cube. In drawing Captain America here, she was already served most of her purpose.”

“You lying son of a bitch!” This time Sharon did take a step forward.

In response, the Red Skull gestured at the table. “Educate yourself, cow. The information you require is all there. Birth certificate, medical history, all falsified. This child at my side is no more real than your concept of democracy.”

Taking her eyes of Red Skull for the first time, Sharon quickly scanned over the documents. Every detail of Maria’s life, up to her adoption by Steve, was laid out on that table.

“No.” Sharon breathed. “This, it can’t be.” She turned back to face the Red Skull, her face livid. “You monster!”

“No, he was Frankenstein,” said Maria sweetly. She stood alone on the staircase, the Red Skull nowhere in sight. “I’m the monster. Would you like you play with me, mommy?”

Then Maria drew a gun and fired.

Every maniacal villain seeking world domination has the big room. With Nazi villains, it’s practically a given. You know the room. Auditorium sized; a string of catwalks about halfway up, with ladders and staircases to get on the catwalks. Hanging from the ceiling would be countless sandbags; maybe there would even be a curtain. Maniacal villains are very theatrical, but still they’re smart enough to use the space. That much space, you have to store items there, hence the numerous large crates laid out in a vague pattern.

When Captain America walked into the room, he couldn’t believe it. There’d had been no slant in the floor that he’d noticed, and the ceiling was so high that the room must go up into the first and second floors of the mansion itself.

“That Cosmic Cube again,” said Captain America to himself. Because when you have an object of near limitless power, capable of warping time and space, it must be used to make a big room.

If there was any real purpose to the big room at all, it must have been to momentarily distract Captain America. And if so, then it had very nearly succeeded. Bullets struck the wall mere inches from Captain America’s head. He brought the shield up just in time to deflect of bevy of rounds. Automatic rifle fire is capable of cutting a person in two. Somebody must have been actively trying to miss.

That somebody was up on the catwalk. When the firing ceased, Captain America risked a peek. His shooter was a younger man, light brown hair, dressed in a blue uniform and wearing a domino mask. Bucky was shooting at Captain America, and for the WWII veteran it was the line that Red Skull had finally crossed.

More automatic rifle fire. The shield was already in the air, but Captain America dived and found cover under a crate. The gunfire ceased, the rifle dropped as Bucky raised his hands and caught the shield. Captain America moved as soon as the shooting stopped, saw the rifle falling to the floor, its safety off. Too far away to catch, so Captain America turned to increase the distance.

Bullets spat out of the rifle as soon as it struck the ground, jolted into firing. Just in time Captain America dived behind a crate, hot metal singeing his uniform. Up on the catwalk, Bucky deflected stray bullets with the shield while running off. Captain America caught a glimpse of him disappearing through a doorway, into the mansion itself.

As soon as the gunfire abated, Captain America was on the move. Climbing up onto the crate, he ran and jumped for a ladder. Easily he caught ahold and climbed onto the catwalk within seconds. Like the devil he ran after Bucky, through the doorway and left in the hall outside. Cool air brushed against Captain America’s face. He ran for the source, a pair of French windows thrown open. Out on the balcony stood Bucky. In his hands was Captain America’s shield.

“The greatest invention of the century, made my accident,” Bucky reflected. He glanced up at Captain America. “Just like you, it couldn’t be duplicated. An indestructible metal used to make a shield, what a waste. Just like you.”

Slowly, Captain America took a step forward. Bucky held the shield out over the railing, and dropped it.

“Without that you were nothing,” he hissed. “I cleared the way, made sure there weren’t anybody left but green soldiers that couldn’t hit a target less obvious than that star. You sure knew it too, didn’t you?”

Another step Captain America took towards the mockery of Bucky. He didn’t say anything. Bucky grinned, though, entered into a fighting position. Yes, Bucky knew how to fight, of that Captain America was well aware.

“It should have been me, you damned skinny runt,” the twisted creation of Red Skull spat out. “Born into the Army, taught to fight since before I could walk, it was me should have been the Super-Soldier. Instead the brass made me a mascot, cannon fodder for you made a mistake.”

“There’s nothing I need to say to you,” said Captain America quietly. This thing he spoke to was not Bucky. “You’re only another weapon of the Skull’s.”

Fighting began then. It was Bucky went first, jabbing out a fist to Captain America’s face. The punch he threw in response could be seen a mile away, and Bucky dodged it with a laugh. He dodged it fancy too, jumping up and back so that his feet balanced on the railing. A leg kicked out, barely covering the distance but managing to catch Captain America on the side of his head. Bucky remained balanced, even hopped from one foot to the next, hoping to kick Captain America again. But the hero had backed up a step, out of reach.

Yes, Bucky was being fancy, showy. A lot of men Captain America knew fought like that. They could afford to be flashy, with their skills and training. In spite of what most people thought, Captain America wasn’t the world’s best fighter. Mostly he would just hop around, dodging, or use the shield. That had been the bulk of his training, aside from some boxing and judo. Throw a good punch, use his opponent’s strengths against him, that was what Captain America knew, and only moderately well.

That was why Captain America didn’t use fancy moves. All he was ever interested in was ending the fight as quickly as possible. If it meant a little extra effort to end the fight with little damage done, fine. Still, Captain America was a soldier, and when necessary he didn’t go out of his way.

Bucky’s flashy kick found only empty air. Captain America’s hand found Bucky’s ankle. The strength of a top Olympic athlete hefted the smaller man off of the railing with one arm. Without a word Captain America swung Bucky up against the wall like a rag doll.

It was loud, the sound of Bucky’s neck breaking, of his head cracking open. No blood spattered. It just remained there on the wall, after Bucky bounced off. Captain America let go of the man then; watched as the mockery of his friend fell two stories. Bucky didn’t vanish until after he’d hit the hard cement. The man on the balcony got to watch that.

“A rather cold display, Herr Rogers.” The voice that spoke from behind Captain America dripped with hatred and was soaked in pure evil. At that moment Captain America thought something foul was filling his nostrils, trying to choke him in sewage. “I would have expected mercy from you.”

Carefully, Captain America turned around. The Red Skull stood in the doorway to the balcony, unadulterated evil clad in a three-piece Italian suit. Only that red skull-like head lay bare, the mark of Johann Schmidt’s own toxin. In one gloved hand, the Red Skull held a glimmering Cosmic Cube.

“All that power,” Captain America said in a voice almost too soft to be heard, “and you’re trying to goad me with dead men.”

Without any real lips to speak of, it was hard to tell if Red Skull was smiling. Those sickening red teeth jut out a bit, and there was some curve at the ends of his jaw. “You should consider that a gift, Herr Captain. I allowed you to enjoy those physical gifts of yours one last time!”

That Cosmic Cube shimmered with power. Captain America felt its effects wash over him; knew what the Red Skull was using it for. Impossibly, mass shrank away from Captain America’s form, and his bulk visibly decreased as a result. Soon, that uniform he wore hung off Captain America as though he were a child trying on his father’s suit. Just like that, the Super-Soldier Serum had been expunged from Captain America’s body.

The Red Skull, on the other hand, still wore that strong and powerful body cloned from Captain America’s cells. Confident in his power, in his victory, Red Skull strode forward and took Captain America by the throat. Like a child, Red Skull lifted his enemy off of his feet. Sadistic pleasure radiated from that tainted body. Steve Rogers felt like retching.

Hot breaths stinking of foul evil poured into Captain America’s face as the Red Skull spoke. “Beg, and I may simply leave you like that. One word, and you would be allowed to live the rest of your life in this weakling shell. Your strength is gone, Rogers, and with it your spine. Defiance will earn you only death, coward, so beg for your life!”

Steve Rogers did not beg, however. Nor did he simply stare at Red Skull in defiance. No, what Captain America did, now that Red Skull had brought it close enough, was place his own hand over the Cosmic Cube.

This time the energy shimmered over both men. It was the power of the Cosmic Cube to alter reality according to the wishes of its wielder. At that moment, two men wielded the Cosmic Cube, and so their wills clashed for control. Red Skull with his indomitable hatred for all life he considered inferior. Captain America with his desire to make the world safe for those who wish to live free.

A loud noise filled the ears of both men, a long high-pitched whistle, that could almost be interpreted as a living thing being torn apart. In actuality it was the Cosmic Cube being torn asunder, ripped into unequal halves by the overwhelming desires to two sworn enemies.

When the light subsided, Red Skull no longer had Captain America by the throat. Both men stood several feet apart, facing each other. Red Skull without a Cosmic Cube in his possession. Captain America in a body once again at its peak because of the Super-Soldier Serum.

Maria had certainly moved as though she weren’t real. Dives, somersaults, flips that shouldn’t have been possible for an untrained girl her age. And all the while she was firing at Sharon Carter.

She didn’t have any choice. The bandage in her arm was seeping. A bullet had grazed Sharon’s head, not deep, but blood was getting in her eye. She had to end it.

Something was going on. Maria paused suddenly, looking as though she was about to vomit, as though a wave of sudden nausea had come over her. Sharon saw her chance, took the shot.

A wad of hot metal jabbed into the middle of the girl’s chest. Blood blossomed from her bosom. Surprise and pain etched over her face. There was no great fling across the room, propelled by the bullet. No grand death. Maria just fell to the ground, lying sprawled there with blood pumping high out of her chest. Cautiously, gun in both hands, Sharon approached.

“Ahuh ahuh ahuh ahuh.” The breaths came shallow and fast out of Maria’s throat, and with each breath another gout of blood shot out of her body. Fear, confusion, disappoint and betrayal all showed on her face as Maria looked up at Sharon.

It wasn’t the look of a killer, of an unreal thing created by evil. Sharon was looking down at a young girl, the same young girl she and Steve had been raising for the past few months. At that moment Sharon knew what it had meant when Maria stopped moving about.

“Oh my god,” Sharon whispered. A glance at the table, at the papers on it. Fraudulent, yes, but only so the Red Skull could say that they were fraudulent. Once, he’d used the Cosmic Cube to warp Sam Wilson’s mind. He’d just done the same thing again.

The only thing left for Sharon Carter to do was hold a little girl’s hand as she died.

The first man to react was Captain America, with a bone-jarring punch to the center of Red Skull’s face. Again the patriotic hero struck, throwing a hook that nearly took Red Skull’s head off. Blood went flying, as did a red tooth.

“Where is my daughter?” asked Captain America as he drove his fist up into Red Skull’s gut, doubling the Nazi villain over. His other arm was raised over his head like a club, and Captain America sent the hammer down against the back of Red Skull’s neck. “Tell me!”

For perhaps the first time that night, there was heat in Captain America’s voice. Even then, however, as he rained blows on the Red Skull, Captain America managed to keep his emotion in check. Killing the Red Skull would tell him nothing.

“Where is she!” Screamed Captain America. His hand was pressed against the back of the Red Skull’s head, which in turn was pressed against the cracked wall. Blood dripped down from that broken red face, dripped down to stain those expensive shoes.

Once, twice, three times Captain America drove his elbow into the Red Skull’s kidneys. Maybe there would have been a fourth time, had not a sharp pain just then jabbed into Captain America’s back. A knife and struck. A long one, it had gone in deep. Captain America released the Red Skull, who crumbled to the floor in a heap. Staggering, Captain America rested a hand on the railing, looked down at the courtyard. That had been from where the knife came, by the angle in which it entered.

Crossbones stood there, the white in his mask shining like a beacon in the dark night. In his hand was a knife, long, the same kind that he’d just thrown into Captain America’s back. He seemed to be waiting. Reaching over to finger the knife in his back, Captain America knew for what.

Only briefly did he glance at the Red Skull, at that broken, battered figure. Would he be able to escape? Could he even talk now, after what Captain America had done to him? He knew what Crossbones was playing for, attempting to give his employer a chance to get away. Should Captain America play into it?

Trust Sharon, Captain America decided.

His teeth grit, Captain America yanked the knife out of his back. Blood flowed, but it was okay. Soon the business at hand would be dealt with, and he’d get the wound tended. Leaping over the railing, Captain America landed in a crouch. The knife was in his hand when he ran at Crossbones.

Both men had a knife in their right hand. They ran at each other, collided, each gripping the other’s right wrist with his left hand, holding the knife at bay. These two men stared into one another’s eyes, saw that neither would give any quarter. Captain America was the stronger, the faster, but he’d been fighting non-stop for over an hour now, and Crossbones had had time to recover from the earlier encounter.

Below their feet, a beep could be heard. “Time’s up,” Crossbones growled. Too late, Captain America realized he was being held in place for a reason.

The explosion occurred barely a foot from the two of them. There wasn’t much debris, but the sheer force of the blast lifted Captain America and Crossbones into the air. Somehow both managed to hold onto his knife, but in hitting the beach they separated.

Captain America rolled along the sand. His back, covered in salt water soaked sand, throbbed and burned. Still, he got up, staggered towards Crossbones. The other man also got to his feet, went for Captain America, slashing. The knife Captain America avoided, then used the opening to swipe his own knife along Crossbones’ arm. A long trail of blood seeped out.

If this affected Crossbones in the least, he didn’t show it. His backhand nearly broke Captain America’s jaw. But this in turn barely registered on the bruised and weary soldier. Again he swiped with the knife, stabbing at a bad angle into Crossbones ribs. It struck bone, broke at the handle.

With metal sticking out of his torso, Crossbones punched down with his knife hand at Captain America’s head. The blade cut down at the mask, only barely breaking the skin but the remnants of the mask fell away. Then Crossbones brought his fist back up, jabbing the handle under Captain America’s eye. The bone there broke, a splinter through the skin. Blood exploded out of Captain America’s face, and he went down into the sand.

Not far down the beach, a celebrity gala was being held at the neighboring estate. Press and cameras were there, and the explosion drew attention. A crowd was moving down the beach. Photographers and cameramen were able to capture the battling shapes, even make out some of what happened.

Crossbones was on top of Captain America, one hand at his throat and the other hand holding a knife, poised to stab down. Captain America had both his hands at that wrist, struggling to keep the knife away. His back and face were large masses of pain, a fog was settling over his vision and Captain America could feel his strength fading. There was no way he could hold Crossbones back forever.

So Captain America lifted his leg up, driving the knee up hard into Crossbones’ groin. Behind the full facemask this thug groaned. His grip on Captain America’s throat weakened, and the knife fell harmlessly into the sand. Just as Captain America lifted his head up, to try and take advantage, Crossbones snapped his head down. The skulls cracked together, with Captain America taking the brunt. He fell back against the sand, gurgled blood as his back lit afire. Crossbones closed both meaty hands around his enemy’s throat.

Pressure was brought down on Captain America’s windpipe and on his carotid artery. Strength was fading, and the last of it Captain America used to bring his hands up to grab Crossbones by the head. Only one thing could save Captain America.

“Just lay down and die,” hissed Crossbones. He closed his hands tighter. “That bitch Diamondback is in hell waiting for you. Oh yeah, I enjoyed doing her real nice.”

Those words did something to Captain America. His eyes widened, something new and dark behind them. Rage fueled him more than desperation, and he used it to move his hands. One hand at the back of Crossbones’ head, the other at his chin. A devil’s strength was behind the push and the pull.

Hands at his throat went limp and lifeless. With no more strength left in his arms, Captain America couldn’t hold the weight up. Crossbones fell onto him, dead. With some effort, Captain America rolled the body off, and slowly got to his feet.

Lights alerted Captain America to the cameras and reporters. There were witnesses to his act, people who would ask questions and perhaps twist what he had done. Composing himself, Captain America started towards the crowd. The first camera he saw he went for and, before the cameraman could do anything, Captain America took ahold of the video camera and stared into the lens.

“My name is Steve Rogers.” The mask was gone, his bloody visage was bared and ready to be captured in film. “Most of you know me as Captain America. Some of you may even want to take advantage of this new information.”

Captain America shifted the camera to take in the body of Crossbones. After half a minute, he stared back into the camera. Blood from his face smeared onto the lens, bathing his face in red. “He tried to take advantage. If you won’t follow my rules, then I will follow yours.”

Behind Captain America, the Red Skull’s mansion erupted in great gouts of flame.

Within half an hour, all the proper authorities had arrived. Not the local police or Sheriff, but virtually every Federal agency was on the scene, keeping the press back and documenting everything. An Army medical officer was tending Captain America’s wounds, sewing the deep cut on his back as well as repairing the damage to his face.

“Burn those bandages as soon as you can,” Captain America told the officer. “My DNA can’t be out loose.”

“I received a briefing, sir.”

“Did anybody survive the explosion?”

“I can answer that sir.” A tall man wearing a very expensive suit and sunglasses approached Captain America. He didn’t bother to wonder about which agency this man was from. “One managed to get out in time. A woman. I can take you to her as soon as you’re done here.”

“I’m done now.” Captain America rose to his feet, brushing the medical officer aside. “You’ve done enough, officer. The wounds will mend fine.” Then he addressed the agency man. “Take me to her.”

All through the short walk, Captain America was torn about whom he hoped to see. If it was Maria that had gotten out, then likely Sharon had died making sure of it.

Firetrucks formed a perimeter around the mansion. Seated near one of them was Sharon Carter. Briefly, Captain America told himself that it didn’t mean anything, that Red Skull had likely escaped, and could have taken Maria with him. One look at Sharon’s face, however, told Captain America that it was a false hope.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Sharon began. “She, she was never real. I saw rough drafts, the whole process Red Skull used to forge her documents. At first I didn’t believe it, even when she attacked me. I-I held her off as best I could without hurting her. Then she, she just disappeared. I hadn’t done anything, but she was gone, and I knew. Steve, I’m sorry.”

The first words had struck Captain America like a physical blow. He staggered, not from his injuries, and had to be held up by two men. As Sharon continued talking though, it occurred to Captain America that she wasn’t looking him in the eye. For some reason, she wasn’t being entirely truthful with him.

What was Agent 13 leaving out, Captain America wondered. Could it only be that she fought Maria the way that she would fight any enemy? Or was there something more? Could Sharon have…?

“Don’t say anything else,” Captain America warned. Tears were starting to flow out of his eyes, stinging the wound on his cheek. “Please Sharon, don’t you dare say another word.”

Shaking off the two men who held him, Captain America turned away from Sharon Carter. Without another word, Steve Rogers walked away.