Post by jordan on Jan 14, 2014 10:39:41 GMT -5
Captain America #4
War Games
Ghost Stories
Guest Written by
Jordan
*
The storm clouds churn in an endless funnel--darkness sweeping over darkness like the endless, flameless pits of hell that only the people who make it back speak stories of. The lighting strikes down with fury and passion, singing its name out upon the Earth, calling upon the Earth to cry and to shatter--and nothing comes in return but the angry bellows of the sky.
The Sky and the Earth have been fighting this war longer than any man has thought of death and immortality. One throws lightning and hail and rain and the other throws fire and darkness and smog. And they come at a standstill, staring into the abyss that is one another and cry and scream and hatred runs rampant. And it is this anger, this hatred, that so causes the human nature of war and greed--and the helplessness that comes from it.
Among these storms and these wars, this anger and this hatred, flies a sole plane carrying twelve men and Peggy Carter--Captain America. They sit tall, straight, proud; trying not to let their nerves show through. Colonel Stars and Stripes, Steve Rogers, is the tallest and proudest of them all, holding his head high, staring into the churning abyss, ready to face his fears and fulfill his dreams. Sergeant Carter's words ring hard in his head "Now let's go kill some Nazis!" A small smile carves across his face. Peggy sits across from him, also staring off into the abyss. There eyes lock for just a moment.
"You ready for this, Captain?" Steve asks Peggy, the smile still present on his face. She shakes her head and sighs.
"You know this isn't a game, right Colonel? You know that we're landing in a war zone on a mission to kill one of America's most wanted enemies, right? That this man had the means, the capabilities, to sneak into America, become part of the most secret project America has ever done, and then murder the man who started it, right? This is not a game, Colonel, so whip that damned smile off your face." Steve breaks their shared gaze and looks away. She used to be nicer.
"I'm sorry, Captain, it won't happen again."
"It had better not." Silence fills the cabin. Everyone sits staring out the window--everyone prepares for what could be their last day on this Earth. Not knowing if they'll return; not knowing if the last times they'd kissed their wives and children would be the last time they'd ever see them. it's scarier than one man should ever have to go through.
The silence is agonizing and never-ending--like a funnel of nothingness pressing against the hearts and minds of every soldier pondering his own deaths--like blood letting down on darkness and hate falling unto the souls of the loving. Silence so loud that, when it is finally broken, the noise itself is its own kind of silence.
"Prepare for drop off. Ten minutes till drop off. Repeat--ten minutes till drop off!" The captain's voice comes loud and clear over the speakers. Peggy--Captain America, stands and begins barking commands.
"Edgeworth, distribute riffles! Montgomery, you're first out the door so get in position!" She look over at Steve, her eyes meeting his with something less than emotion. "Colonel Rogers, you follow Montgomery out and secure the landing quarters. You know your team, I know mine. Keep in contact."
"Yes, ma'am, Captain!" Rogers yells, saluting to his Captain America.
"Are we all familiar with the plan?" She barks, expecting "yes" from each and every soldier. And she receives it, as every soldier, including Rogers, barks "Yes, Ma'am" right back to her. "Well, I don't want any of you to forget, now do I?
"Colonel Stars and Strips will lead six of you into the North Side Swamps while I will lead six of you from the south. My team will go in the front of the mansion. We keep in contact, reporting in every mile we travel. We aren't taking chances, soldiers, this is the man who struck America at its very core months ago."
"What happens when we get in the house, Captain America? What then? If this man is so dangerous, how do we proceed?" A small, almost frail looking black man with a gun as large as he asks, standing against the back wall of the plane--he'll be the last to jump.
"What we do then, White, is we sweep the house until we find Johan Schmidt, and, when, not if but when, we find him we gun him down and tell the General that it was self defense. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Arriving in twelve seconds."
"Everyone, get to your stations!" And came down form the plane were the warriors, fourteen in total, men on a mission they know might be their last, a mission that could bring an end to everything they know and care about. Today, they are not warriors, but heroes.
*
Their feet pad loudly through the marsh as they sprint for their lives, from one end of the large swamp land to the next, in search of the house of Johan Schmidt. Their eyes fall on every tree and creature, every guard they run buy, they all fall into line, they all do what needs be done. But still, no sign of the house.
"It was supposed to be right here!" Steve Rogers yells into the black deafness of the endless swamp. "Where the hell is it?!"
"Colonel, come in. This is Captain America." The buzzing from the speaker on the Colonel's shoulder sounds loud and clear in the infinite void following the Colonel's screaming.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Have you found the house yet? It isn't where our maps say it is."
"I'm glad to know I'm not the only one having problems." A few of Steve's men laugh, and Steve can feel the anger coming from the other side of the swamps.
"This isn't a time for jokes, Colonel!"
"Sorry, ma'am."
"Good. Now let's find a rendezvous spot. If the Nazis somehow gave us bad intel, they're waiting in ambush right now." The Colonel only hears half of those words as his attention is drawn away by a rustling in the woods.
"You find that rendezvous spot, I've got Nazis to fight. Stars and Stripes out." Radio Silence as the six men perch in battle formation, ready to fire at anything that comes out of the woods. They sit still for a long time and nothing emerges. The Colonel gets up slowly, walking towards the source of the noise. "Cover me." As he slowly walks towards the source of the noise, his riffle ready to fire, he hears another rustle to his left. He motions with his hand to where the noise came from and puts up three fingers. Two fingers. One finger. Fire.
The rounds roar out in the silence and darkness like a twenty-one gun salute. No cries of pain, no return fire. The Colonel rushes to where the enemy soldier was and finds...nothing.
"Guys, I think I just went crazy."
*
And they kept walking, the rendezvous point set twelve miles from their then current position. A small household on the edge of Citrusville. They marched and marched, not coming across a single soldier in the darkness of the marsh. They march and march, the only sounds that of their own feet hitting against the cold, hard ground. Until they find the first body, the first Nazi body.
"Captain America wasn't supposed to be out here. And I know we haven't been here." The Colonel's voice is afraid, afraid for not his own life but the life of his soldiers.
"Sir, do you see the bite marks? The tearing of flesh? It looks like an animal attack." Another afraid soldier cries out.
"It looks like a Grizzly attacked him but they don't have grizzlies in Germany, do they?"
"No, sir, but they do have Man-Things." The frail looking black man from before, Jemmings, calls out, his voice ominous and dark in the atmosphere of the swamp.
"Man-Things, Jemmings? The hell is a Man-Thing?"
"You haven't heard the stories?"
"Jemmings, what stories?"
"Well, back in the barracks, we used to hear stories about Hitler's first attack against the Jews. Everyone thinks it was Poland, but it wasn't, it was right here in Citrusville." The silence is deafening once more as everyone wants to hear the story of the Man-Thing. "Well, the story was that Hitler wanted to test out his 'final solution' on German soil before taking it to Poland. He came here to Citrusville, a city entirely of seven-thousand Jews.
"They say that Hitler came himself and the Nazis destroyed everything and killed everyone in sight. The last man, Theodore Sallis, made a run for it, diving into this very swamps to escape the Nazis. He survived for days in these swamps, the Nazis pursuing him, and he'd even managed to kill some of them. But when the Nazis finally caught him and executed him, they left his body in the swamp. And his ghost fused with the swamp and the swamp engulfed his body and from it emerged a monster, a monster that haunts these swamps in search of soldiers. Not a monster really, but not a man--a Man-Thing!"
"Get your head out of your ass, Jemmings, we need to find the rendezvous and fast before whatever did this" the Colonel motions to the torn body. "Does it to us, okay?" Jemmings falls silent and back in line as everyone continues to march forward, onward to their destination. Their legs become tired and their feet begin to drag, but Colonel Stars and Stripes marches onward, to their destination.
*
The door to the small house flies open as the Colonel and his men walk in, ready to rendezvous with Captain America and get out of here. But to their surprise and dismay, nine guns are pointed back on them. "What the--"
"Hello, Steve Rogers." The voice is cold and crude, the evil seeping into everything that Steve Rogers is, everything he ever will be.
"What the hell is going on here?!" He screams as him and men ready their arms. They stare directly into the eyes of the beast, the eyes of Johan Schmidt.
"Now would be fine, dear."And with a deafening crack, followed by three more, the Colonel hears four bodies hit the floor, their blood spraying everywhere, staining the Colonel's boots with more than just dirt and grim. The Colonel just stands there for a moment, his eyes sweeping across the small, crowded house. Four bodies hit the floor. He had a crew of six men, including himself.
"Just tell me it wasn't Montgomery." His voice is full of defeat and fear. A sad, sad mixture of both.
"None, it wasn't mister Rogers, but instead your friend Jemmings." The Colonel lowers his head and his weapon, setting the latter on the ground.
"What did you do with the Captain?"
"She's...safe, you could say."
"I'll go with you."
"Well, at this point, you didn't have much of a choice, now did yo--" Schmidt falls silent in the middle of his taunting remarks. His eyes grow wide and his jaw slacks. "What in God's name--" He is silenced once more by a roaring that shakes the small house followed by the scream and spray of blood that is Jemmings dying. The Colonel turns slowly to look at the hulking green monster. The hulking green Man-Thing.
TO BE CONTINUED
War Games
Ghost Stories
Guest Written by
Jordan
*
The storm clouds churn in an endless funnel--darkness sweeping over darkness like the endless, flameless pits of hell that only the people who make it back speak stories of. The lighting strikes down with fury and passion, singing its name out upon the Earth, calling upon the Earth to cry and to shatter--and nothing comes in return but the angry bellows of the sky.
The Sky and the Earth have been fighting this war longer than any man has thought of death and immortality. One throws lightning and hail and rain and the other throws fire and darkness and smog. And they come at a standstill, staring into the abyss that is one another and cry and scream and hatred runs rampant. And it is this anger, this hatred, that so causes the human nature of war and greed--and the helplessness that comes from it.
Among these storms and these wars, this anger and this hatred, flies a sole plane carrying twelve men and Peggy Carter--Captain America. They sit tall, straight, proud; trying not to let their nerves show through. Colonel Stars and Stripes, Steve Rogers, is the tallest and proudest of them all, holding his head high, staring into the churning abyss, ready to face his fears and fulfill his dreams. Sergeant Carter's words ring hard in his head "Now let's go kill some Nazis!" A small smile carves across his face. Peggy sits across from him, also staring off into the abyss. There eyes lock for just a moment.
"You ready for this, Captain?" Steve asks Peggy, the smile still present on his face. She shakes her head and sighs.
"You know this isn't a game, right Colonel? You know that we're landing in a war zone on a mission to kill one of America's most wanted enemies, right? That this man had the means, the capabilities, to sneak into America, become part of the most secret project America has ever done, and then murder the man who started it, right? This is not a game, Colonel, so whip that damned smile off your face." Steve breaks their shared gaze and looks away. She used to be nicer.
"I'm sorry, Captain, it won't happen again."
"It had better not." Silence fills the cabin. Everyone sits staring out the window--everyone prepares for what could be their last day on this Earth. Not knowing if they'll return; not knowing if the last times they'd kissed their wives and children would be the last time they'd ever see them. it's scarier than one man should ever have to go through.
The silence is agonizing and never-ending--like a funnel of nothingness pressing against the hearts and minds of every soldier pondering his own deaths--like blood letting down on darkness and hate falling unto the souls of the loving. Silence so loud that, when it is finally broken, the noise itself is its own kind of silence.
"Prepare for drop off. Ten minutes till drop off. Repeat--ten minutes till drop off!" The captain's voice comes loud and clear over the speakers. Peggy--Captain America, stands and begins barking commands.
"Edgeworth, distribute riffles! Montgomery, you're first out the door so get in position!" She look over at Steve, her eyes meeting his with something less than emotion. "Colonel Rogers, you follow Montgomery out and secure the landing quarters. You know your team, I know mine. Keep in contact."
"Yes, ma'am, Captain!" Rogers yells, saluting to his Captain America.
"Are we all familiar with the plan?" She barks, expecting "yes" from each and every soldier. And she receives it, as every soldier, including Rogers, barks "Yes, Ma'am" right back to her. "Well, I don't want any of you to forget, now do I?
"Colonel Stars and Strips will lead six of you into the North Side Swamps while I will lead six of you from the south. My team will go in the front of the mansion. We keep in contact, reporting in every mile we travel. We aren't taking chances, soldiers, this is the man who struck America at its very core months ago."
"What happens when we get in the house, Captain America? What then? If this man is so dangerous, how do we proceed?" A small, almost frail looking black man with a gun as large as he asks, standing against the back wall of the plane--he'll be the last to jump.
"What we do then, White, is we sweep the house until we find Johan Schmidt, and, when, not if but when, we find him we gun him down and tell the General that it was self defense. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Arriving in twelve seconds."
"Everyone, get to your stations!" And came down form the plane were the warriors, fourteen in total, men on a mission they know might be their last, a mission that could bring an end to everything they know and care about. Today, they are not warriors, but heroes.
*
Their feet pad loudly through the marsh as they sprint for their lives, from one end of the large swamp land to the next, in search of the house of Johan Schmidt. Their eyes fall on every tree and creature, every guard they run buy, they all fall into line, they all do what needs be done. But still, no sign of the house.
"It was supposed to be right here!" Steve Rogers yells into the black deafness of the endless swamp. "Where the hell is it?!"
"Colonel, come in. This is Captain America." The buzzing from the speaker on the Colonel's shoulder sounds loud and clear in the infinite void following the Colonel's screaming.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Have you found the house yet? It isn't where our maps say it is."
"I'm glad to know I'm not the only one having problems." A few of Steve's men laugh, and Steve can feel the anger coming from the other side of the swamps.
"This isn't a time for jokes, Colonel!"
"Sorry, ma'am."
"Good. Now let's find a rendezvous spot. If the Nazis somehow gave us bad intel, they're waiting in ambush right now." The Colonel only hears half of those words as his attention is drawn away by a rustling in the woods.
"You find that rendezvous spot, I've got Nazis to fight. Stars and Stripes out." Radio Silence as the six men perch in battle formation, ready to fire at anything that comes out of the woods. They sit still for a long time and nothing emerges. The Colonel gets up slowly, walking towards the source of the noise. "Cover me." As he slowly walks towards the source of the noise, his riffle ready to fire, he hears another rustle to his left. He motions with his hand to where the noise came from and puts up three fingers. Two fingers. One finger. Fire.
The rounds roar out in the silence and darkness like a twenty-one gun salute. No cries of pain, no return fire. The Colonel rushes to where the enemy soldier was and finds...nothing.
"Guys, I think I just went crazy."
*
And they kept walking, the rendezvous point set twelve miles from their then current position. A small household on the edge of Citrusville. They marched and marched, not coming across a single soldier in the darkness of the marsh. They march and march, the only sounds that of their own feet hitting against the cold, hard ground. Until they find the first body, the first Nazi body.
"Captain America wasn't supposed to be out here. And I know we haven't been here." The Colonel's voice is afraid, afraid for not his own life but the life of his soldiers.
"Sir, do you see the bite marks? The tearing of flesh? It looks like an animal attack." Another afraid soldier cries out.
"It looks like a Grizzly attacked him but they don't have grizzlies in Germany, do they?"
"No, sir, but they do have Man-Things." The frail looking black man from before, Jemmings, calls out, his voice ominous and dark in the atmosphere of the swamp.
"Man-Things, Jemmings? The hell is a Man-Thing?"
"You haven't heard the stories?"
"Jemmings, what stories?"
"Well, back in the barracks, we used to hear stories about Hitler's first attack against the Jews. Everyone thinks it was Poland, but it wasn't, it was right here in Citrusville." The silence is deafening once more as everyone wants to hear the story of the Man-Thing. "Well, the story was that Hitler wanted to test out his 'final solution' on German soil before taking it to Poland. He came here to Citrusville, a city entirely of seven-thousand Jews.
"They say that Hitler came himself and the Nazis destroyed everything and killed everyone in sight. The last man, Theodore Sallis, made a run for it, diving into this very swamps to escape the Nazis. He survived for days in these swamps, the Nazis pursuing him, and he'd even managed to kill some of them. But when the Nazis finally caught him and executed him, they left his body in the swamp. And his ghost fused with the swamp and the swamp engulfed his body and from it emerged a monster, a monster that haunts these swamps in search of soldiers. Not a monster really, but not a man--a Man-Thing!"
"Get your head out of your ass, Jemmings, we need to find the rendezvous and fast before whatever did this" the Colonel motions to the torn body. "Does it to us, okay?" Jemmings falls silent and back in line as everyone continues to march forward, onward to their destination. Their legs become tired and their feet begin to drag, but Colonel Stars and Stripes marches onward, to their destination.
*
The door to the small house flies open as the Colonel and his men walk in, ready to rendezvous with Captain America and get out of here. But to their surprise and dismay, nine guns are pointed back on them. "What the--"
"Hello, Steve Rogers." The voice is cold and crude, the evil seeping into everything that Steve Rogers is, everything he ever will be.
"What the hell is going on here?!" He screams as him and men ready their arms. They stare directly into the eyes of the beast, the eyes of Johan Schmidt.
"Now would be fine, dear."And with a deafening crack, followed by three more, the Colonel hears four bodies hit the floor, their blood spraying everywhere, staining the Colonel's boots with more than just dirt and grim. The Colonel just stands there for a moment, his eyes sweeping across the small, crowded house. Four bodies hit the floor. He had a crew of six men, including himself.
"Just tell me it wasn't Montgomery." His voice is full of defeat and fear. A sad, sad mixture of both.
"None, it wasn't mister Rogers, but instead your friend Jemmings." The Colonel lowers his head and his weapon, setting the latter on the ground.
"What did you do with the Captain?"
"She's...safe, you could say."
"I'll go with you."
"Well, at this point, you didn't have much of a choice, now did yo--" Schmidt falls silent in the middle of his taunting remarks. His eyes grow wide and his jaw slacks. "What in God's name--" He is silenced once more by a roaring that shakes the small house followed by the scream and spray of blood that is Jemmings dying. The Colonel turns slowly to look at the hulking green monster. The hulking green Man-Thing.
TO BE CONTINUED