Captain America: Sentinel of Liberty #2

[fan4]

Captain America: Sentinel of Liberty #2
Lost and Found, Part 2

Written and edited by Aaron Martel (fan4)

Washington D.C., early 1941

So secret was the government lab that only a very few high-ranking officials even knew of its existence. This was where the highest priority, absolute top secret projects were conducted, and the United States government did not recognize or even acknowledge the lab in any sort of “official” capacity.

Two-star general Simon Beaker walked the corridor leading to the presentation hall, flanked by his top associate, Lieutenant Bud Wells. There was an undeniable spring in General Beaker’s step, as this was the project that he had the most time and interest invested in. Lieutenant Wells could barely contain his own excitement as he spoke to his senior officer.

“General, wait ‘til you see who they got for this,” Wells chattered. “He’s the perfect specimen. I saw him myself.”

“So Erskine has his guinea pig,” Beaker deadpanned, smirking. “And I may be rewarded for my faith in Rebirth at last.”

The two men entered a fairly large chamber where a lab table was set up in the center of the room, with folding chairs occupied by a handful of American military officers lining the room’s edges. Beaker and Wells took their seats, and settled in to listen to the bearded man in a lab coat standing next to the table. The man was medium built and wore spectacles, and possessed a clear, nasal voice. He was well into his speech already, and took no notice of the newcomers Beaker and Wells.

“…Sought to chemically enhance the performance of our military soldiers,” Dr. Abraham Erskine stated. “But never before has a true ‘super-soldier’ serum been developed. Now, through Operation Rebirth, that dream has become reality. For years I have been refining the formula, and I believe my efforts have finally borne fruit. My new super-soldier serum has been positively tested on simian subjects, and I have assembled you all here today to witness the serum’s effects for the first time on a live human test subject. This, gentlemen, may very well be the key to creating the ultimate human soldier, and change the face of the American Army as we know it.”

There was a startled murmur throughout the room as a side door opened and another man in a lab coat entered the lab leading a tall, nervous young man through the door and into the center of the room next to Erskine. The young man was handsome, blue-eyed, blond, and remarkably, almost dangerously, thin. He was trembling in fright, but there was a noble dignity in which he carried himself.

That’s our super-soldier? General Beaker thought, disgusted.

“Gentlemen,” Dr. Erskine announced, “Let me introduce Steven Rogers, from Brooklyn, New York. Steve has tried numerous times to enlist in the armed forces but was rejected each time for medically unfit reasons. As you can see, he is woefully thin and rather sickly due to childhood illnesses.”

General Beaker shook his head at Erskine’s arrogance as Steve Rogers’ face reddened.

“However, his physical condition is ideal for the formula to work its ‘magic’,” Erskine continued. “I have found that stronger, healthier subjects’ constitutions were overwhelmed by the serum, and in all cases expired as a result.”

If Steve Rogers was shaken by this, he didn’t show it, and General Beaker found himself already admiring the young man’s fortitude.

“And now, without further ado, I shall inject the super-soldier serum into our subject,” Erskine declared with a flourish. “If prior indicators are correct, we should see an almost instantaneous reaction.”

As Steve began to remove his shirt, Dr. Erskine procured a hypodermic needle from the table. The lab assistant sat Steve down and bound his arm; Steve was so scrawny his ribs were markedly visible and his veins stood out prominently, while beads of sweat formed on his brow. Erskine paused to look at his test subject, and Steve nodded assent. Dr. Erskine injected the needle into Steve’s arm and slowly pressed down on the plunger.

Steve immediately began to violently shake and writhe in apparent pain, and nearly everyone in the room gasped in shock and alarm. Only Erskine stared at the scene in rapt fascination, and then he broadly smiled as the serum took effect. Before all the witnesses’ eyes, Steve’s arms, legs, and chest began to expand as muscle and tissue seemed to literally grow from within his body. In a mere matter of moments Steve stood up completely transformed; he now had an athletic and muscular body comparable to or perhaps even beyond any Olympic athlete or professional bodybuilder. A perfect physical specimen.

Dr. Erskine put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Well, how do you feel, son?”

Steve looked at the doctor with a mixture of astonishment and gratitude. “I feel…great! Like I could run a marathon! Like I could take on a whole army myself!”

Erskine, beaming, turned to the assembled military officers, who were fervently applauding. “It’s a success. Success! And this is only the begin-“

“Heil Hitler!”

There was the sharp report of a gunshot, and Dr. Erskine fell dead, killed by the lab assistant, who aimed his pistol at Steve. In a virtual blur of motion Steve upended the lab table into the assassin, distracting him long enough for the newly created super-soldier to land a clumsy, awkward punch squarely on the Nazi spy’s jaw, knocking him out cold.

Steve looked down, puzzled, at the two bodies lying on the floor as General Beaker rushed up to offer support, the lab erupting into pandemonium around them.

[fan4]

Present day, aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier

Colonel Nick Fury, director of the international peacekeeping force S.H.I.E.L.D., was speaking to a medical doctor outside the isolated intensive care unit in the medical wing of the helicarrier, concerned about the patient lying within the ICU.

“How’s he doin’?” Fury queried.

“Unbelievably well. His body shows no cell or tissue damage whatsoever. He’s still in a lot of pain, his muscles have to get adjusted to warmth and expansion since they were frozen for so long,” the doctor spoke. “But I believe in a matter of days he should be up and about.”

Fury’s brow furrowed, his eye patch scrunching over his left eye socket. “Doc, how…how is this possible?”

“The only answer I could hypothesize would be because of the super-soldier serum in his system. When he hit the water, the serum must have slowed his brain, motor and respiratory functions and put him in a state of stasis.”

“Suspended animation?”

“Like in the movies,” the doctor intoned. “It’s a miracle, truly. No other human being could have possibly survived.”

“Can I go in?” Fury asked.

“Go ahead, but remember he’s really hurting, and he has no idea what’s happened in the last sixty years,” the doctor replied.

Fury opened the door and entered the ICU to see Steve Rogers, the legendary Captain America, lying in a bed, his entire body shaking, his teeth gritted in pain. Two days prior, Cap had been discovered frozen in a block of ice deep in the waters of the northern Atlantic Ocean, and now he was aboard the helicarrier, thawed out and incredibly, impossibly, alive. Fury approached Steve and addressed him gently.

“Captain Rogers.”

“Not…captain…” Steve sputtered, his eyes tightly shut. “P-private…”

Fury understood. Steve Rogers was an army private, while in his other guise he was a captain.

“Captain America,” Fury prodded.

Steve turned his head, his eyes opening, to peer at Fury. It took a few moments, but then the recognition clicked.

“Sergeant Fury?” Steve wondered. “What happened to your eye?”

“Long story from a long time ago,” Fury answered. “And it’s Colonel Fury now.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You fell in the ocean and got frozen in ice, Cap,” Fury explained. “We finally found you, but you’ve been gone a long time.”

“How long?” Steve winced and seized up in pain.

“Too long. Cap, the year is 2007.”

The look on Steve’s face betrayed shock and utter disbelief. “What…how…” Then Cap thought of something else. “Bucky…is he okay?”

Bucky was Captain America’s young costumed partner who had been with Cap on the mission that eventually led to Cap’s extended hibernation.

“His body was never found.” Fury was sympathetic. “It was a long time ago. He’s gone, Cap. We thought you were gone forever, too.”

Fury watched closely as Steve struggled both with his physical pain and the mental stress of the information he was being given. Fury worried that it must be too much for any one person to handle, even this most extraordinary of men. But then Steve’s eyes grew concerned, and he turned to Fury once more.

“Did we win the war?” Steve asked.

Fury smiled.

[fan4]

Fort Jackson, South Carolina, December, 1941

Private Steve Rogers reported to the office of General Simon Beaker, who had been appointed by President Roosevelt as Rogers’ liaison and handler. Beaker returned Rogers’ salute and then the two shook hands. Beaker motioned for Rogers to sit.

“Suppose you’ve heard we’re in this thing now,” General Beaker spoke, referring to the United States’ entry into World War II.

“Yes, I’ve heard,” came the soft-spoken, yet strong reply.

“Well, Private Rogers, it looks like we’re gonna find out what you’re made of at last. I’ve seen many a recruit come through combat training but no one has ever approached your level of ability. This is what you were created for.”

Steve smiled at the awkward pep talk. “Yes, sir.”

“You are our first, and only, super-soldier,” Beaker continued, alluding to the fact that when Dr. Erskine was killed in the Washington lab, the super-soldier serum apparently died with him. There were no written formulas or instructions to make the serum found in Erskine’s notes, and thus far any and all attempts to recreate the serum from Steve’s blood and tissue samples had met without success.

”We’re gonna send you to Europe to fight the Germans, and we’re gonna send them a message,” Beaker went on. “I have something for you.”

General Beaker stood and opened a closet door behind his desk, bringing out an outlandish, colorful uniform on a wire hanger. Steve looked at the American flag-hued military uniform and almost laughed.

“What is that, sir?” Steve guffawed.

“You’re gonna become the Germans’ worst nightmare. You’re gonna be a living symbol of the red, white and blue. We want the Nazis to know who it was that kicked their asses. We want them to see you coming.” Beaker could barely contain his pride.

“And what’s that?” Steve asked, referring to the pointed, medieval knight-styled shield emblazoned with the American stars and stripes.

“Your shield.” Beaker sounded pleased. “You’ll lead the troops into battle with it. You didn’t think we trained you in throwing projectiles for nothing, did you?”

“Lead the troops?” Steve was dumbfounded. “But I’m not an officer-“

“You’ve had intensive military strategy and tactics training, more so than most commissioned army officers,” Beaker interrupted. “You’re qualified to lead, in my mind. That’s why when you wear this uniform you will no longer be Private Steven Rogers. You’ll be known as Captain America.”

[fan4]

Present day, S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier, six months after the discovery of Captain America in the North Atlantic

Colonel Nick Fury sat in his S.H.I.E.L.D. director’s office and reviewed a tape of Captain America’s training session from that morning. The images showed Cap running through a modified obstacle course, deflecting live ammunition with his shield and dodging attacks from “life model decoy” training robots designed to test Cap’s combat skills. Methodically, the super-soldier destroyed the LMDs while acrobatically and deftly blocking the rounds coming at him from all angles. It was truly impressive to watch.

Damn, Fury thought. He’s better than ever. His reflexes are unbelievable. He’s ready to get back in the game.

There was an expected knock at the door. “Come in,” Fury called.

The door opened and Captain America, in full costume, walked in. He saluted Fury, who grunted, ”At ease.”

Fury had a feeling where this conversation was going to go even before it began, so he right away tried to steer it in another direction. “So, Cap, do you like the new suit? It’s the latest in lightweight steel mail battle armor, an’ we even managed to make it look like your old getup.”

“Yes, it’s very good,” Cap offered, looking down at his uniform. “It’s flexible, and allows me freedom of movement. Colonel Fury, may I speak freely?”

“Of course,” Fury responded sullenly. “What do you need, Cap?”

“I’ll get right to the point,” Cap stated. “For months I’ve been training, learning, and studying about the modern world. I haven’t found out about everything that’s happened since my…absence, and it hasn’t been easy, but now I believe I’ve got a fairly good grip on things. I think I’ve talked to just about all the doctors, specialists, and shrinks the government employs, and I do understand the need for all of it. But I haven’t seen the actual outside world except on television, and I’ve been cooped up on this flying city and S.H.I.E.L.D. training centers the whole time. I need some leave time. I think I’ve earned it.”

“Cap,” Fury began, with a twinge of guilt, “I know it’s been tough, an’ I’d like to help you out, but the timing isn’t right yet. We still got a few more tests to run, and the president wants to be sure-“

“Nick,” Cap butted in, his blue eyes staring directly into Fury’s sole good eye, “You know where I want to go, and I need to see it for myself. I won’t be gone long, and no one will be the wiser. I don’t ask this lightly.”

After a few silent and thick, tense moments, Fury nodded slightly, giving in to the living legend. “All right, Cap. Take a few hours in the hoverpod. But come right back. An’ you didn’t get permission from me. I don’t know nothin’ about this.”

[fan4]

Washington D.C., the White House Oval Office, 1942

President Franklin Delano Roosevelt was excited to meet Captain America, and was even more delighted to be a part of the small ceremony taking place in the Oval Office. Also attending were the First Lady, Vice-President Wallace, Secretary of State Hull, War Secretary Stimson, and General Simon Beaker. President Roosevelt pushed himself in his wheelchair around his desk and offered his hand to Cap.

“How many of those have you been through?” the president asked, indicating Cap’s battered and pockmarked shield.

“Twenty-one, sir,” Cap replied.

“Well, we’ve decided to do something about that, Captain.” President Roosevelt gestured and a Marine guard stepped forward carrying a rounded, concave shield with circular American flag markings.

“I’m told this shield is made from some sort of rare metal mixed with steel,” the president stated.

“Vibranium,” General Beaker put forth.

“Thank you, General.” President Roosevelt smiled. “From what I understand, no bomb on earth can crack it. It’s as unique and indestructible as you are, Captain. I’d like to present it to you, with the thanks of the entire United States for your exemplary service.”

Cap took the shield, which to his surprise felt light and easy to throw, a perfect defensive and offensive weapon. He then thanked the president and shook his hand while the others in the room waited their turn to meet the famed American hero. Standing to the side, General Beaker felt somewhat like a proud parent, his heart swelling with pride.

[fan4]

Present day, Brooklyn, New York City

Steve Rogers walked the Brooklyn streets with a sense of wonder, a black, duffel-style gym bag that contained his Captain America outfit slung over his shoulder. He tried to comprehend the changes that had occurred since he had lived there; despite the fact he hadn’t walked these streets since the early forties, in his mind it had only been a few years since he was here. Still, there was much he did recognize, many of the same buildings, and he was reminded of a saying- the more things change, the more they stay the same.

The culture, however, was a huge shock for him. He wasn’t prepared to see so many African and Latino Americans, and didn’t know how to react to the hard, suspicious looks he was receiving, particularly from the young people. The music blaring from the strange cars and giant radios hurt his ears, and he was irked to see the graffiti spray painted on the walls. It occurred to him he must stick out here like a sore thumb, and he suddenly wished he’d thought about coming here a little more thoroughly and done more research. Technically this was home, but it didn’t feel like home anymore.

What am I doing here? God, the Dodgers aren’t even here anymore! Ebbets Field is gone!

Steve was about to head back and return to the helicarrier when a young woman’s scream pierced his ears about a half block over from where he was. There followed more shouting and screaming, both male and female, and everyone on the street’s attention was diverted in that direction. Steve’s adrenaline instantly kicked into gear, and he ducked behind a set of concrete steps, quickly zipping open his gym bag and pulling out his costume.

[fan4]

Present day, S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier

Director Nick Fury was relaxing and enjoying a cigar in his office, the evening news showing on one of his monitors. When there was no earth-shattering crisis to attend to, Fury amused himself by watching the news and noting how many inaccuracies there were in the reporting. He prided himself on knowing about everything happening everywhere.

“And now the last story this evening,” the newsman reported. “From Brooklyn, where there was footage recorded this afternoon on a cell phone of a man dressed in the costume of the World War II hero Captain America, shield and all, thwarting a gangland street fight this afternoon. As you can clearly see, the man stopped ten knife and chain-wielding men in all, disarming and disabling them, and yet no one was seriously injured. After performing this heroic deed, the man raced away on foot and has not been located since. The footage is now being heavily watched on You Tube.”

“Director Fury,” the intercom buzzed in, “The President wishes to speak with you immediately.”

“Ah, hell,” Fury muttered.

To be continued